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On the appreciation of imports

One can enjoy the thrill of getting out of bed in the wee hours and digging into sweets and a hot drink without the involvement of big bellies and facial hair, and banana plants and cacao trees don't take kindly to snow. Therefore, to call a fictional character a universal good when it's as much an import as soda pop and fireworks is a line I'd expect from a salesman.

The universal good, it seems to me, is what prompts someone to buy that line despite the existence of diabetes and powder burns. The opposite of that would be whoever gets their lines out to their target audience earliest and most often in order to have a steady clientele.

This seeking of happiness, however simple, is why mice and cats, or even dogs and small children, are infinitely more preferable to those who require oversight to change business-broadcast-bureaucracy as usual, however grudgingly the change happens in the midst of that fogging mess.

And since people are fickle enough to return to such practices if oversight is not continued, there's all the more reason to keep an eye out and the salt shaker handy.

Steamed sticky rice in banana leaves and hot chocolate may not be local products anymore, but when one can get them, they're still pleasant enough companions on a night watch.

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