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Oh, right, so you're all going to have a whining, definitively-dismissive tanty because you don't like the music playing in one room of a Chateau with more wings than Skwrlzlgoth, flying furred fundament & monocular chocolate starfish of the Apocalypse from the gaps between the interstellar buzzing of the vacuum quantum foam?
Try harder, people. If provided with an infinite smorgasbord of unique pleasures, try not to complain that you have to serve yourself.
Cheers,
Marc
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