Dear colleagues,
May I recommend a poem by Piet Hein. Its called: "The art of
toasting" (I guess toasting could be replaced by 'oxidation')
there is a time for knowing when
never try to guess
toast until it smokes
and then
twenty seconds less
If you feel that I'm trying to buffer your freedom of speach - I
apologize. But, if you don't reduce the flow into my E-mail system I
fear that my hotline to the metamorphic society will be totally
oxidized - leaving me isolated..
Respectfully yours
Bjorn
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