Screw the world. I mean, what a mess. Every single rotten human being on the planet is irredeemably greedy and corrupt — except me and you, that is. Which is why we dine alone. Who wants to break bread with these bastards anyway? And more to the point, fewer and fewer of them want to dine with us. That's all right. Pull up a plush leather chair at the Grill at the Setai's marble dining bar and sit your disgruntled bottom down; there is no restaurant in the city more soothingly decorated than this one. Start with a half-dozen Pickle Point oysters ($18), jamón Ibérico de bellota ($35), or three of the juiciest jumbo wild shrimp you have ever seen ($24). Take a second or two to look down the bar while exuding an air of superiority at your savvy selection. Then dig into your second course — perhaps caramelized onion tart with seared tuna belly and smoked shallot cream ($12)? Loudly order one of the dozen or so haute steaks. As in: "I'd like a certified Hereford rib eye" ($48) or "The Japanese A5 New York strip sounds good" ($30 per ounce). Of course, you can always go with one of chef Jonathan Wright's signature seafood entrées, such as Alaskan halibut or miso-roasted black cod (each $48), but it just doesn't have the same ring. Oh, and by the way: If you see someone at the other end of the bar wolfing down duck-fat fries with truffle salt and glaring back at you, it's probably me.