Underneath it all, this is what I think crime lodoks like. Killing time, and other people. Imagine you’re living in the prohibition era. You’ve become some great bootlegger. You’ve escaped the drudgery that is the nine to five. You’re making more money than you know what to do. Life would be pretty sweet, if you didn’t have a boss. If you didn’t have customers. You’re dodging bullets, and rushing to meet deadlines. We just can’t win