Mohammar Rashid al-Siri should answer her minus the circulation
I. Viser
Trimming off the rest of this post is unnecessary.
I will guarantee anonymity except in cases of blatant abuse.
I will achieve anonymity by tallying the results in
uncorrelated tabulations and then deleting the emails.
(I know this loses interesting correlation data, but if
resondents want anonymity it's hard to avoid.)
I know that this anonymity promise depends on trust and that
you have no particular reason to trust me. Someday, I hope.
I will post results Saturday.
xxxxxxxx beginning of survey xxxxxxxx
yes( ) ( )no Should RoadRunner be subjected to some kind of UDP?
yes( ) ( )no ... active UDP (cancels) ?
yes( ) ( )no ... passive UDP (drop messages) ?
yes( ) ( )no ... all-groups UDP? (as opposed to specific groups)
yes( ) ( )no Are you a Usenet sysadmin? How big:_ How long:_
yes( ) ( )no Should another server be subjected to UDP? Who:_
yes( ) ( )no Should UDPs be used more often?
yes( ) ( )no Should UDPs be used less often?
yes( ) ( )no Would you have answered this survey without anonymity?
xxxxxxxx end of survey xxxxxxxx
--
cancer, and while people are prepared to
think that this dreadful cult is merely different politics, then
there is danger indeed for the peoples of the world. As one
who has suffered, I would say-show people in print and
pictures (no matter how dreadful) what goes on behind
these "Iron Curtains".
While I was ruminating upon these things, and spas-
modically scanning the landscape before me, an aged man,
bent and walking with a stick, entered my room. His face
was lined with much suffering, and his bones stood out
prominently, covered only by parchment-tight, withered
skin. I saw that he was sightless and I rose to take his arm.
His eye-sockets glared as angry red holes, and his move-
ments were uncertain, as are those of the recently blinded.
I sat him by me, and gently held his hand, thinking that
here in this invaded land we had nothing now with which
to alleviate his suffering and ease the pain of those inflamed
sockets.
He smiled patiently and said, "You are wondering about
my eyes, Brother. I was upon the Holy Way, making my
prostrations at a Shrine. As I rose to my feet I gazed upon
the Potala, and by a mischance a Chinese officer was in
my line of sight. He charged that I was gazing upon him
arrogantly, that I was looking at him offensively. I was
tied by a rope to the end of his car and dragged along the
ground to the square. There spectators were rounded up,
and in front of them my eyes were gouged out and thrown
at me. My body, as you can surely see, has many half
healed wounds. I was brought here by others and now I
am glad to greet you."
I gasped with horror as he pulled open his robe, for his
body was a raw red mass through being dragged along the
road. I well knew this man. Under him, as an Acolyte, I
had studied things of the mind. I had known him when
I became a lama, for he had been one of my sponsors. He
had been one of the lamas when I had journeyed far down
beneath the