Question:
Dr. Benjamin Stone is a hotshot young surgeon who longs to leave the drudgery of a Washington , D.C. emergency room and finally leaps at his chance at more money and less death as a plastic surgeon in Beverly Hills . On his last day , Ben's relationship with his co-workers is presumed to be anything but a warm one . None of his colleagues will join him for a drink and a cake in his honor has an iced portion of the phrase '' Good riddance , asshole '' sliced out . Ben's cross-country drive in a 1956 Porsche 356 Speedster is interrupted when he crashes in the rural hamlet of Grady , South Carolina . The crash damages the fence of local Judge Evans , who sentences him to community service at a nearby hospital . Ben offers to pay for the fence , but the stern judge increases his community service each time he talks back . Defeated , he reports to the hospital , where Nurse Packer humbles him by ordering him to clock in and out , as would a factory worker . Though upset , Ben quickly makes friends with Mayor Nick Nicholson , the town cafe's proprietor/head waitress , and Melvin , the local mechanic tasked with repairing Ben's car . Ben soon finds his clinic work to be much more laid-back than the emergency room . He has simple cases such as spots before the eyes , fishing hook impalings , and even reading mail for a young illiterate couple , whose baby he later delivers . The experience also humbles Ben when he mistreats a case of mitral valve regurgitation leading to late cyanosis in the child . After reading the above, is "In Grady,South Carolina" the correct answer to the question "Where does Dr. Stone have more friends, in Washington, D.C. or in Grady, South Carolina?"? OPTIONS:
- no
- yes

Answer:
yes

Input: Grande dame of cooking still going strong at 90: Julia Child celebrates in San Francisco. How does it feel to turn 90 and have attained the status of an icon, a living legend? "It feels just like it felt before," Julia Child says with the throaty laugh familiar to millions who cut their culinary teeth on her "French Chef" television series. The show, along with her seminal book, "Mastering the Art of French Cooking" (1961), revolutionized the way America cooks and eats. While making light of the difference a day -- or another decade -- makes, Child intends to enjoy her birthday thoroughly. First, there will be all the public observances, including a sold-out dinner Thursday at San Francisco's tony Fifth Floor restaurant, which -- like dinners that night at 19 other venues across the country -- will benefit the scholarship fund of the International Association of Culinary Professionals (which Child co-founded). Friday to Sunday, the action moves to Napa, with both members-only and public events at COPIA: The American Center for Wine, Food and the Arts, of which she is an honorary board member. Aug. 15, her actual birthday, will see her in Maine at an annual gathering of nieces, nephews, their offspring and friends, who for many years have rolled a joined birthday celebration for several members of the group into a jolly reunion. The schedule Child and her assistant of 14 years, former pastry chef Stephanie Hersh, have laid out is not exactly a senior-citizen routine, even though Child has always been candid about her age and realistic in assessing her own capabilities. When the Pasadena native moved back to California from her long-time home in the Boston area last year, she also made the move from a condominium she and her late husband, Paul, had purchased many years ago to a progressive retirement home. She is in the most active of the four levels available, but should the need arise, she can move on to assisted living facilities within the same complex.
"What scholarship fundraiser did Child co-sponsor?" is "International Association of Culinary Professionals"?

OPTIONS:
- no
- yes
Output: yes

Input: Hotel California My first thought: I was going crazy. Twenty-four hours of silence (vacuum, remember); was I hallucinating noises now? I heard it again. It was a fine bell, reminiscent of ancient stone churches and the towering cathedrals I'd seen in documentaries. And accompanying the bell, I saw a light. Now, there were two things here that made ridiculously small amounts of sense. First, the whole in-a-vacuum why's-there-a-bell thing. Second, I was floating in the dark remnants of my broken ship, and any conceivable light sources were not within view; starlight is a distinctly different color and significantly less bright. These signals were the heralds of my saviors. The first words they said to me meant nothing. I wasn't listening; I didn't care; I was going to live; I was going to keep breathing. Next to those, nothing else mattered. The recycled air tasted sweet in my mouth, and all thoughts that crossed my mind were cheap metaphors about life-giving substances and how breathing was like sex, only better. (I reserved the right to revise this opinion later.) When I was done mentally exclaiming over my impossible rescue, I looked around. The ship, it was odd and old, either so outdated or so heavily modified that I couldn't tell what make it was, and somehow, the crew standing around me fit the same description, a singularly atypical amalgamation of folk. And me, I guess I was one more piece in their puzzle. I was one more scrap to weld onto the rest, one more stranded survivor who was found. I was now one of them.

Does the response "He heard a bell" correctly answer the question "Why did the writer think he was going crazy?"?

OPTIONS:
- no
- yes
***
Output: no

Question:
In her storage room-turned-office, Jennifer Baum works under an expanding leak that is causing the ceiling to turn brown and crumble. Mold grows in the buckets positioned to catch the water. She shrugs it off. Outside her office she has taped up a clear plastic suit, and a sign that reads, "All employees must don protective gear before coming in." Such is life in limbo. Nearly a year after Sept. 11, the Legal Aid Society-the lawyers for New York's poor and homeless-remains, well, homeless. The nonprofit has been barred from returning to its 90 Church St. headquarters, across from the World Trade Center site, because of environmental concerns. Legal Aid has uncomfortable company. More than 11,500 New Yorkers continue to work out of temporary space, according to analysis by Manhattan-based real estate brokerage TenantWise.com Inc. and Crain's New York Business. That's 8% of the 137,000 workers who lost their offices or access to them when the Twin Towers collapsed. Legal Aid's 450 displaced attorneys and staffers have spent the past 12 months spread among previously unused spaces-some unused for good reason-in the nonprofit's other offices. It could be another year and a half before they return to their old desks. They have contended with difficult working conditions as demand for Legal Aid's services is on the rise because of Sept. 11 and the deteriorating economy. The civil division is spread among a few boroughs. Their papers and documents, some 20,000 boxes worth, are stuck in a storage facility in Linden, N.J. "I am counting the days till we can have all the parts back in one place," says Steven Banks, Legal Aid's associate attorney in chief. In the memories of the exiled workers, the old office has achieved mythical proportions. They say the wood paneling and rugs had the ability to cool emotions and lift spirits. The Legal Aid office on Montague Street in Brooklyn Heights, where 65 displaced workers have cobbled together space amid the faded and scratched walls, looks more like a bargain basement. After reading the above, is "Janitorial staff" the correct answer to the question "Who put up a sign outside her office that reads: "All employees must don protective gear before coming in.""? OPTIONS:
- no
- yes

Answer:
no