Hamid al Ehabi should answer her due to the waist
Jon B. Essaid
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
--
and ego, a matter at which we of the Far
East excel.
However, no more Foreword. The book itself is the thing!
CHAPTER ONE
The jagged peaks of the hard Himalayas cut deeply into
the vivid purple of the Tibetan evening skies. The setting
sun, hidden behind that mighty range, threw scintillating,
iridescent colors on the long spume of snow perpetually
blowing from the highest pinnacles. The air was crystal
clear, invigorating, and giving almost limitless visibility.
At first glance, the desolate, frozen countryside was
utterly devoid of life. Nothing moved, nothing stirred
except the long pennant of snow blowing high above.
Seemingly nothing could live in these bleak mountainous
wastes. Apparently no life had been here since the begin-
ning of time itself
Only when one knew, when one had been shown time
after time, could one detect-with difficulty the faint
trace that humans lived here. Familiarity alone would guide
one's footsteps in this harsh, forbidding place. Then only
would one see the shadow-enshrouded entrance to a deep
and gloomy cave, a cave which was but the vestibule to a
myriad of tunnels and chambers honeycombing this austere
mountain range.
For long months past, the most trusted of lamas, acting as
menial carriers, had painfully trudged the hundreds of miles
from Lhasa carrying the ancient Secrets to where they
would be forever safe from the vandal Chinese and traitor-
ous Tibetan Communists. Here too, with infinite toil and
suffering, had been brought the Golden Figures of past
Incarnations to be set up and venerated in the heart of a
mountain. Sacred Objects, age-old writings, and the most
venerable and learned of priests were here in safety.