I once saw Kurt Vonnegut speak at the Washington Press Club. After his talk, the floor was opened to questions, and here are two of the few that there was time to ask:
"My birthday is November 11, too! Do you have any thoughts on the significance of that date?"
"Can I hug you?"
Poor Mr. Frick had been sitting on his hands, afraid that his question about the movie adaptation of Mother Night might be too sophomoric. Gather ye Vonneguts while ye may, people.