🚀 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 


--
The scene moved on and we were able to see the city
of London, in England, just as if we mingled with the
crowds there.  The huge red buses roared along the streets,
weaving in and out of traffic and carrying great loads of
people.  A hellish shrieking and wailing broke out and
we saw people dart for shelter in strange stone buildings
erected in the streets.  There was the incessant "crump-
crump" of anti-aircraft shells and fighters droned across
the sky.  Instinctively we ducked as bombs fell from one
of the planes and whistled down.  For a moment there was
a hushed silence, and then whoom!  Buildings leaped into
the air and came down as dust and rubble.
    Down in the deep subways of the underground railways,
people were living a strange, troglodytic existence, going
to the shelters at night, and emerging like moles in the
morning.  Whole families apparently lived there, sleeping
upon make-shift bunks, and trying to obtain a little privacy
by draping blankets from any available protrusion in the
smooth tiled walls.
    I seemed to be standing on an iron platform high above
the roof tops of London, with a clear view across to the
building which people called "The Palace".  A lone plane
dived from the clouds, and three bombs sped down to