No matter how much I ridiculed them publicly, though, deep down I guess I always felt some sense of pride when I saw them show their stuff. Sappy and sentimental, maybe, but it’s true. Pride stemming from the sense that there was a kind of grand tradition behind the whole Lone Star operation. That was then. Now I know what this kind of show really is—a marketing display for a megacorporation selling its wares. Feeling empty inside, I turn my back on the spectacle, and continue to walk on up Seneca.