"Why do I torture people? What a stupid question. Why are you banging hookers behind your wife's back? Hell, why haven't you just grabbed someone off the street and forced them into that cosplay she won't wear. You're smart, and you possess a certain collection of skills, you could get away with it, and if you don't... well, then you just weren't smart.
But even if you do get caught, why does it matter? Just serve your time, go out in a blaze of glory, or just go out. You complain all the goddamn time about how droll and boring your life is and how little the world cares about vets, but you have the solution to both those problems in your hands.
Now, now, none of that. We both know you're not gonna squeeze that trigger. Might as well put it down. You know me, we're friends, that's why I'm giving you this advice, free of charge.
Nothing matters. You live 80 years and you die: what happened a few thousand years before you were born has little bearing on your present happiness and what's going to happen a few thousand years after you return to dust won't phase you a mite. There's no reason to not take what you can from the ride before you have to give up your seat.
The worst part about it all is I know you understand, deep down. You're already breaking the rules. The only difference between us is you're putting some 20-year old through college and I'm stringing up hobos with piano wire and hanging them from telephone poles. Different strokes for different folks, yeah?
You're so close to getting more, you just need to stop clinging to that model citizen shit. It's not serving you, and the people that'll remember you as a stand up guy sure as hell aren't, they didn't feed you when you were 500 in the hole, I did. And I don't mind "feeding" you again. If you still got that cosplay kit we can go out tonight, I need a change of pace, and you have good taste in waifus, Ram is better than Rem."