I had drunk too much, I confess, though we all had. Somehow, Tasha and I began to argue the worth of Solevgrad jazz, as inconsequential a topic as I can imagine. She had studied it in school, so she thought herself as an expert. I once had a neighbor who played it constantly, loudly, and badly, so I thought I knew it better. Malaquez tried to mediate, but I saw him as siding with Tasha. So, I think, did she. The subject shifted from music to Tasha's obsession with fame, undoubtedly by a leap that I made. She had no choice but to follow. (I do not remember any of this well, just now, nor do I care to. Those who are truly curious may look at the last act of "Captured Moments.") I remember suggesting, with characteristic tact, that she add Emil to her small list of major accomplishments. Malaquez glanced away, embarrassed. Tasha looked at me as if to say, "I will." She said, "I feel sorry for you, Nardo. I'll see Emil home." "Yes," I said, "Do that," and did not care what she did, or why. Emil asked, "You're all right?" I muttered something he must have interpreted as assent. They both walked up to Emil's home while I watched the scarlet moonlight ripple on distant waves. Disgusted with Tasha but more disgusted with myself, I finally realized she would not return that night and went into The Sleeping Flamingo to drink myself to sleep. She had not come home when I woke in mid-morning.
What question would one ask from this paragraph?

QUESTION: What did the narrators neighbor constantly play loudly and badly?

The 1933 double eagle, a $20 gold piece with a mysterious history that involves a president, a king and a Secret Service sting operation, was auctioned Tuesday last night for a record price for a coin, $7.59 million, nearly double the previous record. The anonymous buyer, believed to be an individual collector who lives in the United States, made the winning bid in a fiercely contested nine-minute auction at Sotheby's in Manhattan. Eight bidders were joined by 500 coin collectors and dealers in an auction house audience seemingly devoid of celebrity bidders, while an additional 534 observers followed the bidding on eBay. As auction houses prepare for their fall seasons in an uncertain economy, the sale price "suggests that the marketplace for important items is enormously strong," said David Redden, a vice chairman at Sotheby's, who was the auctioneer. "This is an astonishing new record for a coin," he said. In an unprecedented move, the auction proceeds were split by the U.S. Mint and a London coin dealer, Stephen Fenton, who had won that right in court after having been arrested by Secret Service agents for trying to sell the coin in the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel in Manhattan in 1996. Henrietta Holsman Fore, the director of the U.S. Mint, who witnessed the sale, said, "The monies we receive will go toward helping to pay down the debt and to fight the war on terrorism." Fenton commented that the double eagle had been on "a long historic journey, with a very satisfying ending." He added, "I am thrilled with the price." The previous numismatic record holder was an 1804 U.S. silver dollar, which sold for $4.14 million in 1999. Sotheby's partner in the one-lot auction was Stack's Rare Coins, with which it shared the customary 15 percent commission. "I have never seen as much interest in the sale of any coin in my 30 years in the business," said Lawrence R. Stack, the company's managing director. "This is the Mona Lisa of coins," said Beth Deisher, editor of Coin World, the largest weekly coin publication in the United States, with a circulation of 85,000. "It is unique. Forbidden fruit." Collectors' Web sites have surged with speculation about the sale price, and enthusiasts even organized betting pools.
What question would one ask from this paragraph?

QUESTION: How much did a 1933 double eagle sell for in auction on Tuesday night at Sotheby's in Manhattan?

Before the establishment of the People's Republic, Albania's illiteracy rate was as high as 85%. Schools were scarce between World War I and World War II. When the People's Republic was established in 1945, the Party gave high priority to wiping out illiteracy. As part of a vast social campaign, anyone between the ages of 12 and 40 who could not read or write was mandated to attend classes to learn. By 1955, illiteracy was virtually eliminated among Albania's adult population. Today the overall literacy rate in Albania is 98.7%; the male literacy rate is 99.2% and female literacy rate is 98.3%. With large population movements in the 1990s to urban areas, the provision of education has undergone transformation as well. The University of Tirana is the oldest university in Albania, having been founded in October 1957.
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QUESTION: What year was Albania's illiteracy rate 85%?

When single father Thurman Williams needed help filling out papers in a custody suit recently, he didn't look to his lawyer for help. He walked to a computerized kiosk at the Lamoreaux Justice Center in Orange and started tapping the keys. As part of a legal experiment, litigants without lawyers across California are using computerized video kiosks to prepare common court filings and seek basic legal advice. The kiosk used by Williams is part of a statewide effort to cope with a flood of litigants who cannot afford or refuse to hire lawyers. Court officials statewide fear the number of self-represented litigants has reached crisis levels and threatens to clog court calendars. Like Williams, more than 6,000 Orange County litigants have initiated court actions on I-CAN! kiosks or accessed the programs on the Internet, using home computers. Similar programs are operating in Sacramento, San Diego and Ventura. A recent study of the kiosks' first 18 months of operation concluded it is too soon to tell if the system will relieve pressure on court calendars. But the report, by UC Irvine's School of Social Ecology, said users were overwhelmingly positive about the free legal assistance. "It's made life a lot easier for me," Williams said. "It's helped keep me from going to the poorhouse." The 29-year-old Orange resident was directed to a kiosk in the Lamoreaux Justice Center by court staff. After putting on headphones and following the directions of a videotaped instructor, Williams filled out a quarter-inch stack of paternity and custody documents. The exercise took 20 minutes; it would have cost him about $800 if he had relied on a lawyer, he said. "It was a lot easier than I thought." Whether they can't afford a lawyer or just want to save money, more Californians are going to court without a lawyer. "I'm just amazed at the numbers," said Commissioner Salvador Sarmiento, who hears between 40 and 90 child-support cases a day in Lamoreaux Justice Center.
What question would one ask from this paragraph?

QUESTION:
Who made this remark: "It's helped keep me from going to the poorhouse."