Meanwhile, Somewhere in the Mediterranean Sea...

Son, we live in a world that has Powerpoint, and those presentations have to be prepared by Commanders drinking coffee. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Lt. Weinburg? I have a greater responsibility than you could possibly fathom. You weep for the Powerpoint, and you curse the men who need them. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know. That my skills with Powerpoint, while tragic, probably saved careers. And my existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, puts the color in the brief that makes things clear to the three-stars.

You don't want the truth because deep down in places you don't talk about at parties, you want me preparing those briefs, you need me printing those briefs. We use words like slides, graphics, pie chart. We use these words as the backbone of a life spent creating Powerpoint presentations that are obsolete ten minutes before anyone else even sees them. 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 umbrella of the very six-color quad chart that 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 you pick up a copy of Microsoft Office, and stand in front of the podium. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to.