We are a generation of superlatives — the best, the brightest, the generation kept in reserve for the last days. We are in pursuit of excellence, we look for Shakespeares and Miltons of our own. Thus on to eternal perfection, the honest and faithful will go!
But in the middle of the last century, we were modest enough for “adequate” to be a satisfactory descriptor.
What do you suppose they really meant by that? And can I please order at those prices?