Readers, I have had a troubling experience recently, one that has caused me to question our so-called ‘reality’. There are wheels within wheels in this world, deep forces that control our actions and indeed our very minds, and I have now stood at the edge of the abyss. Corporations, possibly with the cooperation of governments, are quite literally feeding us lies, and I assure you, the taste of lies is not sufficiently spicy. I now include two emails I have recently written to major hot sauce manufacturers. The choice is now yours: close your browser now, and go on living as you have, or read on, and confront the foul conspiracy at the heart of our world.

Dear Huy Fong Foods,
First, as a longtime Sriracha enthusiast, I'd like to thank you for your amazing product. I can't tell you how many of my curries, stir fries, and peanut butter-jelly-bacon sandwiches Sriracha has improved.
However, I have had a troubling and puzzling experience with Sriracha, and I would appreciate any information you have about it. I recently moved to Norway, and among the first things I did was to find the nearest Asian food store and buy some Sriracha. After putting it on several curries, I noticed that I was using much more than normal to achieve the same level of spiciness. Being an egotist, I assumed that my tolerance for spiciness was growing. I expected at any moment to sprout more than my current 15 chest hairs, and I even dreamed of growing a mustache.
When I returned home to Michigan for Christmas, I put my new, immense amount of Sriracha on my mom's caribou stir-fry. Oh how manly I felt, how astonished and awed my family was. "Surely he must be mad," they thought as I eased the first bite into my mouth, confident and proud of my newfound manliness.
As soon as the caribou entered my mouth, I immediately realized that I had made a huge mistake. My tongue was awash with flame; my eyes poured tears, and my sinuses emptied with the force of a charging rhinoceros. I gagged, wept, and endured the laughter of my smug family. That piece of caribou may not have been spicy, but I assure that it was a bitter pill to swallow.
I'm now back in Norway, and in the place of my pride, there are only questions. Is Sriracha less spicy in Norway? Where else is the holy rooster sauce weakened? Are there any places where it is stronger than the United States? How can the Norwegians expect to ever build their tolerance for spicy food with such weak sauce? Any information you have would be helpful.
Kind regards,
Fas Co Gris

Dear Cholula,
First, as a longtime lover of Cholula, I'd like to thank you for your truly excellent hot sauce. It has improved countless burritos, and I now only attend Mexican restaurants when I can see the Cholula on the table.
However, I have recently had a troubling experience relating to your excellent sauce, and I would like to ask for some explanation.
I have lived in Norway for nearly a year now, and while I miss many things about the United States, perhaps the greatest is Cholula Hot Sauce. It's right up there with my dog, my girlfriend and Tea Party Republicans. I can make burritos or chili, but without Cholula, they are incomplete.
Imagine my excitement when I found Cholula in my local Meny grocery store. I may have actually jumped for joy. And my Floridian friend was making fish tacos that very evening! It was perfect.
However, when I applied my customary amount of Cholula onto said fish tacos, I was astonished and shocked to find that this sauce was almost entirely without spiciness. Its garlic, tomato, and other flavors were intact, but the spiciness had almost entirely disappeared.
I was sorely disappointed, as you can imagine, but in a sense, I was relieved. My preferred Asian hot sauce, Sriracha, also seemed weaker in Norway. Now I know – I am not insane. It is the world that is insane. I have asked them, and I also ask you: is Cholula weaker in Norway? Why? Is it weaker anywhere else? Is there a stronger version than the US's? And how, in good conscience, could you give the Norwegians inferior sauce? Yes, undiluted Cholula would make some Norwegians uncomfortable, but do you not have an obligation to bring them, as backwards as they are, into the global community of spicy food? They have made such progress in the last 10 years – we cannot give up on them now!
I eagerly await your reply. In the meantime, I'm forced to use Tabasco (which, for the record, is exactly as strong as it is in the United States).
Kind regards,
Fas Co Gris

So far I have had no response, but I will keep you posted.