3401. That was my brother’s argument, and I turned it on Bluto’s squirrel argument, and he never expected a retort from a 13 year old. “Look Mr. Sacco,” I said, accidentally using the patronizing and condescend tone my brother always used with me when he wanted me to see how stupid I was. “Look at that other squirrel over there.” I pointed to a dead one that had been run over by a car.
3402. “If God took so much time to make the squirrel, and the poor squirrel’s eye is more complicated that a wristwatch, why is it that he doesn’t take care of the little thing, instead of letting it get mashed up in the street by a Buick.”
4303. At that moment, Bluto’s face suddenly became transfigured, and his voice had a tremor in it. He spoke in a way that I could see that he was not putting me on, but really deeply felt the truth of what he was going to say. “God loves the squirrels, every Goddamn one of them, but God hates cars to death, and God hates the Coca Cola Company as well," he said.