Check it out:
WILL
Say I'm working at N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something
nobody
else can break. So I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm
real happy with myself,
'cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some
rebel army in North
Africa or the Middle East. Once they have that location, they bomb
the village where the rebels
were hiding and fifteen hundred people I never had a problem with get
killed. (rapid fire)
Now the politicians are sayin' "send in the Marines to secure the area"'cause
they don't give a shit.
It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't
them when their number got called,
'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some
guy from Southie takin' shrapnel
in the ass. And he comes home to find that the plant he used to work
at got exported to the country
he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass
got his old job, 'cause he'll work
for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile my buddy
from Southie realizes the only
reason he was over there was so we could install a government that
would sell us oil at a good 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 ancillary benefit for them but it ain't helping my buddy
at two-fifty a gallon. And naturally
they're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back and maybe even
took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic
skipper who likes to drink seven and sevens and play slalom with the
icebergs and it ain't too long 'til
he hits one, spills the oil, and kills all the sea-life in the North
Atlantic. So my buddy's out of work and
he can'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 time he tries to get a
bite to eat the only blue-plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic
scrod with Quaker State.
WILL (cont'd)
So what'd I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. I figure I'll
eliminate the middle man.
Why not just shoot my buddy, take his job and give it to his sworn
enemy, hike up gas prices,
bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National
Guard?
Christ, I could be elected President.
And he was
Cris