I'll tell you a story that has been in the family for generations. It's about granddad's trusty old extension cord, and what happened to it. It was called "the king" because of its superiority among its siblings, and it ruled like a monarch over the kingdom of extension cords.
But one day, when granddad wasn't looking, an evil opportunist snuck in and took it away. Of all the most unfortunate tragedies befalling this fine country since its inception, none was more grievous than the pilferage of his loyal extension cord by an uncouth villain.
Granddad was very upset at this — he'd never felt such anger and frustration in all his life. After much consternation and taking of medication, he set out to buy a replacement. He traveled far and wide in search of a suitable cord to his liking and finally found just the right one. He tried to buy it, but the shopkeeper wouldn't sell it to him. Before leaving, Granddad spat on the floor and swore an oath cursing the shopkeepers' future spawn to be stillborn.
As luck would have it, while riding the streetcar home Granddad met a curious little carpetbagger with the name Jeff Bezos. When he told the grinning bald imp of his plight, Bezos plucked from his bag a dandy of a cord. It coiled as nice as you pleased and shined like a duck egg yolk. Granddad bought it on the spot with a gold piece, which Bezos bit into and inspected before handing over the cord.
We still have the cord in our family. It's not a heavy-duty power cord (we call it "the prince") but we aren't using it to power an electric kiln or an industrial clothes drier so we don't care. Mister Bezos has more of these cords, which you can pick up here for a song.
