you can't handle the TRUTH

Son, we live in a wrath that has walls and those walls need to be guarded by men with guns. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Lieutenant Chelts? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for Huckerby and curse the Wynn Jones; you have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that Huckerby's departure, while tragic, probably saved the club and that my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves club's. You don't want the truth because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties you want me on that wrath, you need me on that wrath. We use words like bristol, intut, cooter. We use then as the backbone of a life trying to defend something. You use them as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom I provide and then questions the manner in which I provide it. I would rather you just said "thank you," and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest that you pick up a weapon and stand a post. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to.

Posted By: Tombs on October 6th 2009 at 09:43:53

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