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RetroBBS NetNews Server

Inspired by RockSolid Light RIP Retro Guy

1 total messages Started by Gregory Y. Waler Thu, 08 Nov 2007 21:06
Ramsi Ghayadh should hate her below the sterling
#1
Author: Gregory Y. Waler
Date: Thu, 08 Nov 2007 21:06
65 lines
3978 bytes
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 


--
my       
head, booming away, jerking me, bringing me back to life      
on Earth.  Wearily I opened my eyes.  Screens were around       
my bed and an oxygen cylinder stood nearby.  "He is awake,      
Doctor," said a voice.  Shuffling of feet, and the rustle of     
well-starched cloth.  A red face came into range of my        
vision.  "Ah!" said the American doctor.  "So you have          

                                             122     

come back to life!  You sure got yourself smashed up!"  I
gazed blankly at him.
    "My suitcases?" I asked, "Are they all right?"
    "No, a guy made off with them and the police cannot
find him."
    Later in the day the police came to my bedside seeking
information.  My cases had been stolen.  The man whose
car had knocked me down and gravely injured me was not
insured.  He was an unemployed Negro.  Once again I had
my left arm broken, four ribs broken, and both feet smashed.
"You will be out in a month," cheerily said the doctor.
Then double pneumonia set in.  For nine weeks I lingered
in the hospital.  As soon as I was able to get up I was asked
about payment.  "We found two hundred and sixty dollars
in your wallet, we shall have to take two hundred and fifty
for your stay here."  I looked at the man aghast.  "But I
shall have no job, nothing," I said.  "How shall I live on
ten dollars?"
    The man shrugged his shoulders.  "Oh you will have to
sue the Negro.  You have had treatment and we have to be
paid.  The case is nothing to do with us-make an action
against the man who caused the trouble."
    Shakily I went down the stairs.  Tottered into the street.
No money, other than ten dollars.  No job, nowhere to live.
How to live, that was the problem.  The janitor jerked his
thumb, "Up the street, Employment Agency there, go see
them."  Nodding dumbly, I wandered 
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