Karim Ziad Al Taee should analyse her within the invention
Ralf Manthe
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
--
pocket a spring-loaded knife. I was easily
able to disarm him, the knife flew over my shoulder, and
the swarthy man was flat on his back. To my surprise, as
I looked around, I saw that quite a crowd of workmen had
arrived. "He's thrown the Boss," said one; "He must have
been taken by surprise," muttered another. Violently the
swarthy man erupted from the ground, like a rubber ball
bouncing. Dashing into the workshop he picked up a steel
bar with a claw on the end, a bar used for opening packing
cases. Rushing out, yelling oaths, he swung at me, trying
to rip my throat. I fell to my knees and grabbed his knees
and pushed. He screamed horribly, and fell to the ground
with his left leg broken. The steel bar left his nerveless
hand, skidded along the ground, and clanged against metal
somewhere.
"Well, Boss," I said, as I rose to my feet. "You are not
Boss of me, eh? Now apologize nicely, or I will beat you
up some more. You tried to murder me."
"Get a doctor, get a doctor," he groaned, "I'm dying."
"Apologize first," I said fiercely, "or you will want an
undertaker."
"What's going on here? Eh? What is it?" Two French
policemen pushed into the throng, looked at "the Boss"
on the ground, and laughed uproariously. "Haw! Haw!"
roared one. "So he has met a better man at last! This is
worth all the trouble we have had with him." The police-
men looked at me with respect, and then demanded to see
my papers.