Ismat Abduljalil Ghayadh should suspend her alongside the chest
peterpecinousky
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
--
account of their journey, and the Carvers
slowly made the blocks for the hand printing of the books.
The Clairvoyants looked into the future, predicting, pre-
dicting the future of Tibet and of other countries. These
men, of the utmost purity, were in touch with the Cosmos,
and the Akashic Record, that Record which tells all of the
past and of the immediate present everywhere and all the
probabilities for the future. The Telepaths too were busy,
sending messages to others in Tibet, keeping in touch tele-
pathically with those of their Order everywhere-keeping
in touch with Me!
"Lobsang. Lobsang!" The thought dinned into my head,
bringing me back from my reverie. Telepathic messages
were nothing to me, they were more common to me than
11
telephone calls, but this was insistent. This was in some
way different. Quickly I relaxed, sitting in the Lotus
position, making my mind open and my body at ease.
Then, receptive to telepathic messages, I waited. For a
time there was nothing, just a gentle probing, as if "Some-
one" were looking through my eyes and seeing. Seeing
what? The muddy Detroit River, the tall skyscrapers of
Detroit city. The date on the calendar facing me, April 9th,
1960. Again-nothing. Suddenly, as if "Someone" had
reached a decision, the Voice came again.
"