#thewireedit

Help my union? For 25 years, we've been dying slow down there. Dry docks rusting, piers standing empty. My friends and their kids, like we got the cancer. No lifeline got throwed all that time. Nothing from nobody. And now you wanna help us? Help me?

If you were in my position— I'm not. And to tell you the truth, I'm glad I don't have to make those kind of choices. Come on, kid. Sit down.

You want to throw your summonses? Throw 'em. You want to subpoena our records? Shit, you don't even need a subpoena no more. Our books have been open to the Justice Department for eight years. We're here through Bobby Kennedy, Tricky Dick Nixon, Ronnie "The Union Buster" Reagan, and half a dozen other sons of bitches. We'll be here through your weak bullshit, no problem!

Everywhere we go these days, we seem to be running into police. This is telling us something. You're going to leave 15 million thollaria to rot on the pier. Παναγία μου. Lambs go to slaughter. A man, he learns when to walk away. No, we go. Call the others in. Let them know there is no longer any point.

Pick up the fucking money, Ziggy. I don't want it! You pick it up. You.

2.05: UNDERTOW & 3.02: ALL DUE RESPECT