There Is No Substitute For Real

There is no substitute for real. And quality takes. You cannot simulate a mother or the great cities of European history. The product of eons is not average and a dark gray Rolls Royce is more than minimal. Some look for loopholes, but we look for evidence of sincerity in the things.

Are we equipped to succeed? It is hard to say. Perhaps it can be decided scientifically. But in the end, the public has very little tolerance for weakness.

We understand the thinking.

The natives themselves are unsure as to the nature of the beast. They share favorite recipes and talk about six figure incomes, but in the end it is all questions, the answers of which are not so forthcoming. Irregardless, I suppose we would expect you to choose the best, at least when it is available.

We discovered the greatest pizza in the world and one of the guests did not care for it at all. But there is no accounting for taste. Still, the commitment to excellence has not lessened among the ranks, with the result that the fine Chinese spices nearly made us give up in despair. How could we ever match such a fine product.

We were tested in this.

We wouldn’t expect you to accept anything less. We know the kind of lifestyle you are accustomed to. We have seen the delicately embroidered curtains and the full cupboards and the electronic devices gleaming in the darkness, shedding their eerie glow on the ephemeral faces of childhood. We have seen the jets overhead, setting trails in the sky. We have understood the power of perceived needs. This is where we are taken and satiated as a matter of course.

We are not bitter about this. We really have no feelings about it. It simply is. Defacto. In fact, it can drive economies of scale to distraction, which keeps things interesting, at least. But we must pay for the privilege.

And we will.




© LW Publishing 2010