His Reply

You want answers? You want the truth? --You can't handle the truth! Granola, we live in a world that has walls. And those walls have to be guarded by Test Leads with open-source e-mail programs. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Bow-chick? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You curse the Company. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that these mistakes, while tragic, probably saved lives. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives...You don't want the truth. Because deep down, in places you don't talk about at your farewell parties, you want me on that wall. You need me on that wall.

We use words like ghetto, code, flexatarianism...we use these words as the backbone to a life spent defending something. You use 'em as a punchline. I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a woman like you, who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very freedom I provide, then questions the manner in which I provide it! I'd rather you just said thank you and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a weapon and stand a post. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you're entitled to!

With Apologies to: A Few Good Men