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I’ve forgotten a lot of things over the course of my life. I forgot how to play piano. I definitely forgot eight years of French. But the one thing I know I will never forget is the old Pace picante sauce commercial, where a group of hardscrabble cowboys are offered a jar of the wrong salsa instead of Pace picante sauce, which is “made by folks in San Antonio, who know what picante sauce should taste like.” Then someone reads the new jar and says, “This stuff’s made in New York City!” And everyone in the room leaps to their feet and bellows in unison, “New York City?”

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