Ile make a sop oth' Moonshine of you, you whoreson, Culyenly barbermonger, draw.

There is 432 Park Avenue, a surreal square tube of white concrete that appears to shoot twice as high as anything around it, its endless Cartesian grid of windows framing worlds of solid marble bathtubs and climate-controlled wine cellars within.

I'm going to have a few Stellas tonight

Get a wiggle on you, fellows. We'll never get out at this rate.