🚀 go-pugleaf

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 


--
papers for it to       
enter France?"                                          
    "Yep," he said.  "Been waiting three months to get
them.  We have been keeping you on ice and letting you
earn some pocket money.  Guess I never thought you were
living in a dump like this, though."                         
    He got up and motioned for me to follow him out.  At
the door he had his car, complete with girl-friend.  "You        
drive," he said, getting in the back with the woman.  "I          
will direct you."  At what appeared to be an abandoned          
airfield outside Ludwigshafen we stopped.  There, in a huge       
shed, was the weirdest machine that I had ever seen.  It          
seemed to be mainly yellow girders supported on a whole          
series of eight-foot wheels.  Ridiculously high off the ground       
was a small glassed-in enclosure.  Fixed on the back of the 
contraption were a whole series of lattice girders, and an
immense steel scoop.  Gingerly I climbed up to the seat.
"Sa-ay," yelled the American, "Don't you want the hand-           
book?"  He reached up, and passed me a Manual dealing
with these contraptions.  "I had a guy," he said, "who was       
delivering a street sweeping truck, a new one.  He would          
not read the book and when he got to his destination he        
found that he had had the brushes sweeping all the time          
and he had worn them out.  I don't want you wrecking the 
road from here to Verdun,"