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Since the topic is whining, and since the issues are ethics, trust and how in the heck we got to where we are -- concluding that we are all on our own -- it seems appropriate to remind the geezers here of Blood Simple's opening monologue. Here the futility of complaint is set in the contrast between the theory of cooperation under socialism and the downright screw you prevailing in Texas. Note the nod to the President, which I'd long forgotten.

The world is full of complainers.

But the fact is, nothing comes with

a guarantee. I don't care if you're

the Pope of Rome, President of the

United States, or even Man of the

Year--something can always go wrong.

And go ahead, complain, tell your

problems to your neighbor, ask for

help--watch him fly. Now in Russia,

they got it mapped out so that

everyone pulls for everyone else--

that's the theory, anyway. But what

I know about is Texas...

And down here... you're on your own.

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Ah, the Coen brothers. Their work was always greater than the sum of the parts. Hope they get back together now and then.

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