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Okay, we got him.
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We got him. He's down.
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Now, how many fingers am I holding up?
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And, more importantly,
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are they still made of clay?
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Three, and I told you, we're not clay.
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We're silicone dolls with foam bodies
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over ball-and-socket armatures.
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Fascinating.
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And publishable.
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And you say you have no memory of this morning.
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You don't recall the emotional crisis