When my tour ended I went into private security. Same job, I figured, with less killin’ and more pay. Big fancy corporation hired us on to protect their factory makin’ gadgets an’ whatnot. Stuff worth more money than you and I will ever have. One night the power goes out. The fences are open and the lights are off. Bunch’a stuff gets stolen. Turns out it was the other security guys workin’ with me. Moral of the story? Don’t trust a man who’s in it for profit.

Few years later I’m at a protest ‘cause my wife is a hippie and what am I gonna’ do, leave her alone in a crowd of other, smellier hippies? No. So I’m at this protest, something about war or China or god knows what when this guy— buck naked, too, I tell ya’ -sets his own dumb ass on fire. Police come from out’a nowhere and thirty seconds later you’re looking at a battlefield. Protest over. Moral of the story? Don’t trust a man who’ll die for the cause.

Come to think of it, kid, moral’s prob’ly… don’t trust.