Ten years ago a guild of tailors asserted that the emperor’s clothes weren’t beautiful enough and began to sew him a new suit. Not long after, he bought the suit they sold, and now, for six years he has paraded down the street, wearing their finest fabrics. The (too) few times anyone has tried to tell him he’s naked, one of the tailors has whispered in his ear, “We create our own reality,” and on he has marched, bold as he ever has been.

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