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 


--
miserably in the breeze, and from adjacent build-
ings flecks of burnt paper floated down like flakes of coal-
black snow.  I who had seen more of war and suffering than
most, was still sickened by the senseless destruction.  The
Record went on .  .  .
    Unemployment, in war-time London!  The man tried
to enlist as a War Reserve Policeman.  Tried in vain.  His
medical papers were marked Grade Four, unfit for service.
Now, with his employment gone, through the dropping of
the bomb, he walked the streets in search of work.  Firm
after firm refused to take him.  There seemed to be no hope,
nothing to lighten the darkness of his hard times.
    At last, through a chance visit to a Correspondence
School with whom he had studied-and impressed them
with his mental alertness and industry, he was offered

                                             165

employment at their war-time offices outside London.  "It  
is a beautiful place," said the man who made the offer.     
"Go down on the Green Line bus.  See Joe, he should be      
there by one, but the others will look after you.  Take      
the Missus for the trip.  I've been trying to get shifted   
there myself."  The village was indeed a dump!  Not the     
"beautiful place" he had been led to suppose.  Aircraft      
were made there, tested, and flown to other parts of the   
country.                                             
    Li