"Despite the festive atmosphere, the air was rank with an unmistakable Kornblattery. The man was apprehended, yes, but his ideas remain, airborne pustules of mental infection, wafting along a gentle breeze of passivity. A figure like Zloty Kornblatt does not simply materialize out of the fermented mists, and his network of dedicated followers does not simply wither away in his absence. At this moment, highly trained disruptor cells lurk just a river's width from Destina, in Burford, our nation's spiritual pantry, a city of earthly fold living happy, brine-spattered lives. These humble people aren't distracted by Destina's insatiable appetite for novelty, the endless chase of new flavors, delicious foods, fresh vegetables. They don't have to worry about being first to discover the new treat of tomorrow; there, tomorrow is the same as today and yesterday, only slightly more vinegary. Yes, theirs is an innocent, authentic existences, uncluttered by the pleasant odors and dull administrative powers of our capital city."

The Pickle Index, Eli Horowitz