Why should n’t I work for the N.S.A. ? That ‘s a tough one, but I ‘ll give it a shoot. Say I ‘m working at N.S.A. person puts a code on my desk, something cipher else can break. So I take a shoot at it and possibly I break it. And I ‘m real felicitous with myself, ’cause I did my job well. But possibly that code was the location of some insurgent united states army in North Africa or the Middle East. once they have that placement, they bomb the greenwich village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people I never had a problem with beget killed. immediately the politicians are sayin ‘, “ Send in the marines to secure the area ” ’cause they do n’t give a sh*t. It wo n’t be their child over there, gettin ‘ snapshot. merely like it was n’t them when their count was called, ’cause they were pullin ‘ a go in the National Guard. It ‘ll be some guy from Southie takin ‘ shrapnel in the ass. And he comes home to find that the establish he used to work at suffer exported to the country he fair got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his american samoa got his erstwhile job, ’cause he ‘ll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. meanwhile my buddy from Southie realizes the lone reason he was over there was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a beneficial price. And of course the oil companies used the skirmish to scare up oil prices so they could turn a quick buck. A cute little accessory benefit for them but it ai n’t helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. And naturally they ‘re takin ‘ their dulcet fourth dimension bringin ‘ the oil spinal column, and possibly evening took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic master who likes to drink martini and play slalom with the iceberg, and it ai n’t excessively long ’til he hits one, spills the vegetable oil and kills all the sea life sentence in the North Atlantic. So my buddy ‘s out of cultivate and he ca n’t afford to drive, so he ‘s got to walk to the job interviews, which sucks ’cause the shrapnel in his ass is givin ‘ him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he ‘s starvin ‘ ’cause every meter he tries to get a bite to eat the only blue plate special they ‘re servin ‘ is North Atlantic schrod with Quaker State. So what do I think ? I ‘m holdin ‘ out for somethin ‘ better. Why not just shoot my buddy, take his job and give it to his pledged enemy, hike up accelerator prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hashish pipe and join the National Guard ? I could be elected president.

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