You can't handle the lambo doors! Son, we live in a world that has cars. And those cars have to be guarded by men with real doors. Who's gonna do it? You? You, Lt. Weinberg? I have a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom. You weep for lambo doors and you curse the Mods. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that the end of lambo doors, 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 parties, you want me on that door. You need me on that door.
We use words like honor, code, loyalty...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 man 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 door and stand a post. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you're entitled to!