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Haron Iman al-Afghani should sue her in back of the woodland

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Perry A. Nichol

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Nov 8, 2007, 2:19:03 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.

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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)
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yes( ) ( )no Should another server be subjected to UDP? Who:_
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yes( ) ( )no Would you have answered this survey without anonymity?

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--
used the term "Ministry of Labor" then it dawned on
me. I had never been to such a place and had no idea of how
to behave or what to do there. I knew, from the conver-
sation, that it was some place near Hampton Court but the
name was Molesey.
For some reason which I did not then comprehend, I
was not entitled to claim any unemployment benefit. Later
I found that if a person left his employment voluntarily,
no matter how unpleasant or unreasonable that employ-
ment, he was not entitled to claim benefit, not even if he
had paid into the fund for twenty years.
Labor Exchange! I said, "Help me get the bicycle, and
I will go." Together we walked down the stairs, turned
left to the garage now stuffed with old furniture, and there
was the bicycle, an instrument of torture which I had used
only once before, in Chungking, where I had gone flying
down the hill before I could find the brakes. Gingerly I got
on the contraption and wobbled off along the road towards
the railway bridge, turning left at the forked road. A man
waved cheerily, and waving back, I almost fell off. "You
don't look at all well," he called. "Go carefully!"
On I pedaled, getting strange pains in the leg. On, and
turned right, as previously instructed, into the wide road
to Hampton Court. As I rode along, my legs suddenly
failed to obey my commands, and I just managed to free-
wheel across the road to tumble in a heap, with the bicycle
on top of me, on a stretch of grass beside the road. For a
moment I lay there, badly shaken, then a woman who had
be


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