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Byline: DUTCH MANDEL
Whether you are a Buddhist monk or Mother Teresa's stand-in, you're overcome by a sense of entitlement when you sit behind the wafer-thin leather wheel of the massive Rolls-Royce Phantom. It can't be helped.
Give up requests for Grey Poupon and go for Veuve Clicquot. Hear yourself say, "Get out of the way, rabble, don't you see someone of means, of substance wants through?'' Muscle into handicap parking spots and don't bother to limp getting out. That's power you deserve.
In a Roller for the weekend you are obligated to encounter serfs, be they at a White Castle or Jack-in-the-Box drive-thru. Our proletariat toiled at McDonald's, and she responded with typical minimum-wage acumen.
Wench: Hey, what kind of car is that?
Lord of the Manor: A Rolls-Royce Phantom. Very expensive.
W: Yeah? In this here mirror it looked all the world like one of them brand-new GM pickup trucks with a big grille!