"Gentlemen, I've gathered you here to discuss our current financial situation. We're spending far too much on poorly conceived plans of world domination with little-to-no remuneration.
Look, look... all I am saying is we have a laboratory filled with cutting edge scientific innovation and all of this state-of-the-art technology and we can't seem to draft a single plan to use them without threatening the planet with destruction. That stuff doesn't come cheap.
Yes, I know, I know. We're using the threat of world destruction as a means to solicit ransom - Yes, but if they don't pay, we can't very well blow up the planet.
Because we also live on the planet.
Well, I just think a threat we cannot actually execute is a poor incentive to capitulate to our demands.
He sat back on his chair, watching the children dancing to their popular music, sipping a rye.
The electronic bleeps and whistles were just noise to him. He had resigned himself to an evening of computerized cacophony when the disc jockey slid a 12" from it's sleeve and put the needle into the groove.
Piano and drums, sweet glorious guitar and the angelic harmony between Steve Lukather and Bobby Kimball filled the room with a warmth that touched everyone down to their very soul.
"I didn't know that a girl like you could make me feel so sad, Rosanna..."
The man got up, draped his blazer over the the back of his chair, and he began to move.
So free and uninhibited - there was no one else in the room - just the man and his song.