Col. JESSUP:
Son, we live in a world that has roads, and sometimes those roads need to be crossed. Whose gonna do it? You? You, Lt. Weinburg? That chicken has more responsibility here than you could possibly fathom. You weep for chicken, and you curse the roads. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what the chicken knows. That the chicken's death, while tragic, probably saved lives. And that its existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives. I know deep down in places you dont talk about at parties, you don't want the chicken to cross the road, you need the chicken crossing the road. We use words like egg, hen house, ****addoddledo. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending 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 chicken crossing I provide, then question the manner in which I provide it. I prefer you said thank you, and went on your way, Otherwise, I suggest you pick up a weapon, and stand to post. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to!
