For your enjoyment a select from chapter three:
Chapter Three: “Filthy!”
In which the proprietor of the establishment extols the virtues of filth and pink muffins & how his morning came crashing down.
As far as Mr. Adolphus M. Grimble was concerned there could not have been a lovelier sight. He strolled to his seat, loosened his necktie and pulled out the pink muffin he had stuffed in his jacket before leaving for work. Sitting comfortably in his fat chair, his chubby legs dangling above the floor, he munched on the muffin and mused. He sighed a contented sigh and thought a moment, trying to recall a time he had been more pleased. He then leaped (with some difficulty) for the great windows, thrust them open and shouted for absolute joy:
Chewing on the muffin, he listened to the semi-melodic dull sound of the many smokestacks pumping and machines clattering. He gazed at the fields upon fields of all the towering, billowing smokestacks, and it filled him with shivering delight. But hearing himself speak pleased him even more, and he redoubled his efforts to provide, in his own estimation, a more complete appraisal of the situation:
“Positively! Overwhelmingly! Magnificently! FILTHY!”
He adjusted his spectacles, launched a wicked peal of laughter, and slammed the windows clattering shut behind him.
Yes, yes, this suited his tastes just fine. To Mr. Grimble, filth meant production and production meant filth. And as far as he was concerned, the presence of filth and production were paramount to this operation.
. . .