— You're out on the town. Yeah, you're partying hearty. You're knocking boots with the chicky babes. Oh, who's this? It's the tax man. And he's looking at you. Now, what does he see? He sees a young fellow with a big fancy house... unlimited cash supply and no job. Now, what is the conclusion the tax man makes?
— I'm a drug dealer.
— Wrong. Million times worse. You're a tax cheat.
— But look at them. They seam miserable to you. They live a simple, happy life. No decisions... no responsibilities... No problems... They found their answer. You so shure, that your life is better than thairs?
— It's like thay're animals.
— Oh yeah, we're all animals. Just that, some of us have different priorites. That's all.