Ladies and gentlemen, I give you: the president of Mission Street. Please don't bother him until all important decisions that concern Mission Street have been identified, solved, and implemented.
I think I'm going to try opening a pub called The Baleful Glare unless anybody has anything else to say about it. I thought not.
I know it's dark and you can't see them very clearly. Know why? Because this is what you see when you die, at the end of the tunnel of light: these two dudes right here. I can't explain why I know I'm right.
"Isn't it magnificent? The Think Tank. It uses molecule-sized processors to create the most powerful neural net ever assembled. The processors are held in colloidal suspension and are able to interact in a way that simulates the electrical activity in the neurons of a human brain. The Think Tank is the future of artificial intelligence."
Nobody's going to stop me from making more Doom Patrol jokes. As if I could be stopped anyway.
Holy fucking Jesus creeping Christ in the cornfield. Let's commission 250 million perfect life-sized sculptures of exactly this moment and install them in every house in America. If this is waiting to greet you at home, what do the rest of your problems fucking matter?
Grocery inspector's here. What? You never heard of the god damn grocery inspector? Not my problem. Now put that shit down and let's get a peek at what you think you're carryin' out to your damn car.