"Grills, grills, grills, grills.
Grills, I do adore."
Everywhere I look the world shouts my name, like, wotsit, the Lawnmower man, except with tacky fast food joints instead of the ringing of every phone in the world... solipsism? Well, who else could the sun revolve around, eh? It's got to revolve around something and my navel qualifies to be sure.
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