Najem Dindar should weep her such as the pen

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 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 


--
"So.  You
are an American?  Well, we want no trouble with your
Consul.  On your way."  Pushing back the papers as if they
were contaminated with the plague, he hurried back to his
car and sped away.  Telling Marcel what I thought of him,
I sent him back to his seat, and we drove on through the
night.  At twenty miles an hour, the speed at which we
were instructed to travel, the seventy miles to the French
border seemed endless.  Just short of Saarhrucken we
stopped, pulled off the road so as not to impede traffic, and
prepared to spend the day.  After a meal I took our papers
and went to the local police station in order to obtain clear-
ance across the border.  With a police motor cyclist at front
and rear, we crept along side roads until we reached the
Customs post.
    Marcel was in his element talking to his French com-
patriots.  I gathered that he and one of the Customs men
whom he had met in "the Resistance" had, almost alone,

                                             101

won the war!  With our papers checked, we were allowed     
to move into French territory.  The friendly Customs man  
took Marcel off for the day, and I curled up beside the  
girders of the machine and went to sleep.
    Very, very late indeed Marcel returned in charge of two
French policemen.  With a wink at me, they strapped him
in his seat, dead to the world, and cheerily waved me on
my way.  I roared on into the darkness, a mighty machine
beneath me, a drunken "lookout" behind me.  The whole
time