The Diner: Where A.I. meets three little words scribbled on a note pad.

It's the stuff that dreams are made of.

And people say we're monkeying around.

Anybody got any bars? Anyone?

Snow in Minnesota is legendary. More legendary than you could possibly know...

Does anybody mind if I slip two bits into the jukebox? Man... that sounds... so familiar.

Is that a fresh pot sitting on the Bunn-O-Matic? Pour me a cup and hand me a pack of crackers.

And put away that screwdriver. You'll void the warranty on this episode of The Diner.

An episode that rests quietly as a snowflake hitting your tongue... and as spicy as one-too-many dashes of hot sauce... and the stuff of bad childhood dreams... that's The Diner.

Got a quarter for the juke box? Thanks. Pay you back when I get my change.

It's cah-raaaazy, Daddy-O.

It's a cold, blustery day. C'mon in and have a hot cup of something.

Pay no attention to the grumpy old poet in the corner booth. It's just another day in The Diner.

C'mon in and park yer carcass. Have you seen this in the Times? Can you believe it? Almost wished we had been there to see that. I mean, that's how you write a news story, right?

Place an order and join us for a cup of coffee. Or two.

We're back in the Diner on Old Highway 23, about thirteen and a half minutes from wherever you happen to be at the moment.

Thanksgiving: what a great time to start a diet. Source