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Osama AL-Huseiny should knock her including the morning

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Det. Oliver M. Howle

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Nov 8, 2007, 3:43:32 PM11/8/07
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Reply by email, filling out this form and emailing it to me.
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


--
In the morning I bought food on the Government Black
Market, for in Russia the Government runs the Black Market,
and then continued on my way. The Russian on the train
had told me to pose as a tourist and to hang a camera (taken
from the train) around my neck. I had no film, and in those
days hardly knew one side of the camera from the other.
Soon I found myself in the better part of Moscow, the
part that the ordinary tourist sees, for the ordinary tourist
does not see "behind the scenes",-the misery, poverty and
death which exists in the slum side streets. The Moscow
River was before me, and I walked along its banks for a
time before turning up into Red Square. The Kremlin, and
the Tomb of Lenin impressed me not at all. I was used to
the grandeur and sparkling beauty of the Potala. Near an
entrance to the Kremlin a small group of people waited,
apathetic, slovenly, looking as if they had been driven there
like cattle. With a "swoosh" three huge black cars rushed,
out, across the Square, and disappeared into the obscurity
of the streets. As people were looking dully in my direction,

67

I half raised the camera. Suddenly I


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