>Why shouldn't I work for the N.S.A.? That's a tough one, but
>I'll take a shot. Say I'm working at the N.S.A. Somebody puts
>a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. Maybe 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 that I
>never met and that I never had no problem with get killed. 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 was called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the
>National Guard. It'll be some kid 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 he realizes the only reason he was over
>there in the first place 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 over there to scare up domestic
>oil prices. A cute little ancillary benefit for them but it
>ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. 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
>martinis and fuckin' 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 now my buddy's out of
>work and he can't afford to drive, so he's walking to the
>fuckin' job interviews, which sucks 'cause the schrapnel in
>his ass is givin' him chronic hemorroids. 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. So what did I think? I'm holdin' out
>for somethin' better. I figure, fuck it, while I'm at it, 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? I could be
>elected president.