Aziz al-Hazwani should discover her in the predator
robi.sahe
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
--
Before me I
had a pile of pages, thirty of them, all closely typed.
"There!" I exclaimed. "If that does not suit him I will
give up the whole thing, and I hope it does not suit him!"
The next afternoon I called on Mr. B- again. He
looked once more at my papers, then took the synopsis and
settled back to read. Every so often he nodded his head
approvingly, and when he had finished, said, very cautiously,
202
"I think we may be able to get it placed. Leave it with me.
In the meantime write the first chapter."
I did not know whether to be pleased or sorry as I walked
down Regent Street towards Piccadilly Circus. Finances
had reached a dangerously low point, yet I just hated the
thought of writing about myself.
Two days later I received a letter from Mr. B- asking
me to call, telling me that he had good news for me. My
heart sank at the thought, so I was going to have to write
that book after all! Mr. B- beamed benevolently upon
me. "I have a contract for you," he said, "but first I would
like to take you to see the publisher." Together we went off
to another part of London and entered a street which used
to be a fashionable district, with high houses. Now the
houses were used as offices, and people who should have
been living in them lived in remote districts. We walked
along the street and stopped at an undistinguished-looking
house. "This is it," said Mr. B-. We entered a dark
hallway and mounted a curving flight of stairs to the first
floor. At last we were shown in to Mr. Publisher, w