I've been having a lot of weird dreams lately. Last night I had one in which author L. Sprague de Camp -- looking more or less like this -- showed up on my doorstep and invited himself to dinner at my house. Despite the abruptness of his arrival, he proved a very charming guest, regaling me with lots of fascinating anecdotes about other science fiction and fantasy authors. Throughout it, though, he was clearly trying to steer me toward talking about my opinion of Robert E. Howard and the Conan pastiches he and Lin Carter wrote. Not wanting to upset him -- why I'm not sure; perhaps I just wanted to be a polite host -- I deftly avoided his verbal snares and kept the conversation on other topics, including De Camp's own writings, which seemed to please him.
Like I said: weird dreams.