Abdel AL-Shehhi should vote her like the covenant
Chris Loyd
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
--
you
help me?"
"Well," replied the manager, "you really want to go to
Vancouver and I have nothing in that direction, but I have
a man who wants a new De Soto. He lives at Oroville, right
on the Border. He will not drive that far himself. He'd be
good. I'll call him."
"Gee, Hank!" said the manager to the man on the
telephone, "Will ye quit yer dickering! and say if you want
the De Soto?" He listened for a while and then broke in,
"Well, ain't I a-telling you? I gotta guy here who is coming
to Oroville on his way to Canada. He brought a Lincoln
from New York. What say, Hank?" Hank babbled away
at length in Oroville. His voice came through to me as a
confused jumble of sound. The manager sighed with exas-
peration. "Well, ain't you an ornery doggone crittur?" he
said. "You can place your cheque in the bank, guess I've
known you for twenty years and more, not scairt of you
running out on me." He listened for a little longer. "00-kay,"
he said at last, "I will do that. Yep, I'll add it on the bill."
He hung up the receiver and let out his breath in a long,
low whistle. "Say, Mister," he said to me, "D'ye know
anything about wimmin?" Women? What did he think
I knew about women? Who does know about them? They
are enigmas even to themselves! The manager saw my
129
blank look and continued, "Hank up there, he's been a
bachelor for forty years, that I know. Now he asks for
you to bring up some feminine fripperies for him. Well,
well, well, guess the ol' daug's gone gay. I shall ask the
Missus what to send."
Later in the week I drove out to Seattle in a brand new
De Soto and a load of women's clothes. Mrs. Manager had
sensibly telephoned Hank to see what it was all about!
Seattle to Wenatchee, Wenatchee to Oroville. Hank was
satisfied, so I wasted little time but pressed