I was 35 weeks pregnant when I had my stroke. For weeks prior to the event I kept experiencing 'visual disturbances.' I felt when I was reading a newspaper or book a sense that my eyes were crossing. I'd feel aware right before it would occur and I would rush to look in a mirror only to discover my eyes were not crossing. I informed my OB who blamed it on the blood vessels in my eyes enlarging due to pregnancy. Ummm ok. You know more than me. Later I was told by a surgeon what I was experiencing was 'textbook' for the passing of blood clots through my occipital area of the brain! The feeling would eventually subside. I awoke one morning feeling 'kind of fuzzy' headed. Like I had slept too hard. I sat with my husband at the kitchen table for our morning coffee and newspaper and for no reason I could imagine I was unable to swallow my coffee and it dribbled out the left side of my mouth. My husband asked me what was going on and I apparently told him, I was 'stroking' out. He got up from the table assuming I was OK and went off to take his morning shower. While in the shower it occurred to him something might not be right. He came back to the table where I was struggling to lift myself from the chair. I put my hands on the table to lift my body and my left hand kept sliding off the edge. He finally got behind me and tried to lift me under my arms and I crumbled to the floor. He then called my OB and told him he thought I'd had a stroke. My OB immediately expressed his doubt but my husband was advised to call an ambulance to get me to the ER. I never really experienced pain from the stroke. According to the above context, answer the following question. What is the name of the narrator's husband?
OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- James
- John
- Jim

Answer: not enough information

Question: It would have to be this Donald Trump once cashed a $0.13 check In 1990, writer from a "Spy Magazine" had a great idea for a prank: "What would happen if you sent checks for small amounts to celebrities and saw who cashed them, putting to test the theory that every man (and woman) has a price? In their words: "We could however, send them checks for minuscule sums of moneysums so small they couldn't fund as much as a minute of the recipients' existenceand see who would bother to bank these teensy amounts of money." Spy thought "some subterfuge" would be necessaryit'd be suspicious to get a check from the magazine that lampooned so many of the intended recipients. This was specifically true for Trump, who Spy once famously referred to as a "short-fingered vulgarian." So, they created a fully funded and incorporated company called National Refund Clearinghouse, which allowed them to open a checking account. Then they drafted a letter explaining that the check was a refund for a small overcharge that had occurred in 1988what the celebrities had been overcharged for was never mentioned. They sent the checks out (initially for $1.11) to 58 well-known people like Cher, Henry Kissinger, and, of course, Donald Trump. Of the 58, 26 cashed the checksDonald included. The magazine drafted a followup letter and checks for $0.64 to those 26 people to see who would take more free money. Thirteenincluding Donald Trumpdeposited the checks worth two quarters, a dime, and four pennies into their banks. Then they went for one last score: in honor of those 13 people, 13 more checks for $0.13. Two people cashed them: a Saudi arms dealer named Adnan Khashoggi, and Donald Trump. Seriously." I really don't know if this is the most "cheapskate" thing, on just CRAZY fiscal responsibility. But if I had to pick, this would get my vote resources: Splinter - The truth hurts According to the above context, answer the following question. Why did Spy Magazine send minuscule sums of money to celebrities?
OPTIONS:
- to see who is a cheapskate
- not enough information
- to see who is the richest.
- to see who is the most talented
Answer: to see who is a cheapskate

Question: The address I had been given was a flophouse called Casa Salvador in the scummy side of downtown, the part where the city's redevelopment (read: "gentrification") efforts hadn't yet managed to drive out the sundry undesirable elements. I walked inside past the front lobby. I could tell the desk manager wanted to hassle me, but he was too busy arguing with a middle-aged peroxide-blonde woman in a leopard-print top. Her skin was leathery and weather beaten, and I guessed she was the type who was actually a good ten years younger than she looked. I made my way up the narrow staircase that smelled of urine and bleach, going all the way to the third floor. I continued down the dimly lit hallway, past a series of closed doors that muffled the sounds of women faking moans of pleasure. Room 313 was down at the far end of the hall, and its door was already slightly ajar. I knocked anyways, but there was no answer. Pushing the door open just enough to poke my head in, I called, "Hello? Is anybody in there?" There was no response, so I went in and felt along the wall for the light switch. A single weak bulb came on, lighting up the tiny, sparse room with a dim yellow glow. The room was about 8 feet by 8 feet, and the only furniture was a dingy, unmade bed and a metal foot locker. There were no windows, no closet, and no bathroom. As I stepped all the way in, I noticed a wooden baseball bat propped up beside the door. My watch said 6:20 - twenty minutes late for the interview. I sat on the edge of the bed to wait, hoping that maybe my contact had just stepped out momentarily. After a few minutes, a phone started ringing out in the hallway. I let it ring six times with no one answering before I decided to get it - partly in the off chance it was my contact, but mostly out of morbid curiosity as to what kind of business someone would have calling this dump. According to the above context, answer the following question. How did he feel when he saw the bat?
OPTIONS:
- Disgusted.
- not enough information
- Concerned.
- Curious.
Answer:
Concerned.