Waggery types furiously:
"I ask you, is Reet Retreat Glass Dance Floor not made for dancing? Celebration, joy of life?
Why is it that when I do just that, I'm arrested by nameless brutes and taken to a jail? Clothes, everything ruined!
Is it not an establishment where one can drink? I'm a patron! And I'm arrested and placed in a cell not fit for a dog!
I will have representation. Legal. And I am suing. You don't push me around!"
She reads the words and runs her spell checker. There! Hrmpf!