🚀 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 


--
lights appeared just ahead.  A huge Negro
nodded to the Lascar and gave me, following behind, a
friendly wink as he gestured to the back of his truck.
Painfully I climbed in and pulled the old tarpaulin over 
me.  The truck moved on and stopped.  The two men
climbed out and one said, "We gotta load up a bit now
move forward."  I crawled towards the driver's cab, and  
there was the clatter of boxes being loaded on.          
    The truck moved on, jolting over the rough roads.  Soon  
it came to a halt, and a rough voice yelled, "What have   
you got there, folks?"                              
    "Only garbage, sir," said the Negro.  Heavy footsteps     
came along beside me.  Something poked about in the      
rubbish at the back.  "Okay," said the voice, "on your way."  
    A gate clanged, the Negro shifted into gear, and we drove   
out into the night.  We seemed to drive for hours, then       
the truck turned sharply, braked, and came to a halt.  The   
tarpaulin was pulled off, and there stood the Lascar and     
the Negro, grinning down at me.  I stirred wearily, and felt  
for my money.  "I will pay you," I said.                    
    "Pay nuthin'," said the Negro.                          
    "Butch was going to kill me before we reached New          
York," said the Lascar.  "You saved me, now I save you,       
and we put up a fight against the discrimination against      
us.  Come on in."                                      
    "Race, creed, and color do not matter," I thought.  "All     
men bleed red."  They led me into a warm room where          
there were two light colored Negro women.  Soon I was       
wrapped in hot blankets, eating hot food.  Then, they        
showed me a place where I could sleep, and I drifted off.     











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