Yeah, but this whole society runs on someone getting fucked. Figuratively and literally.

[Richie lets the friends comment roll on by because it was true, at least in this situation. They did have friends but he couldn't remember the last true friendship he'd had before getting back to Derry.]

So maybe somewhere someone is looking for a guy like you. [He was. Right here. Right now.] But risk analysts just won't work here. No one cares. You could try to turn your stats into some beatnik poetry down at one of the clubs but I don't know if you'd make much money doing that.