Rogue: Johnny, remember the plan?
Johnny: Get the payload on the elevator, arm it, let gravity do its thing. Explosion rocks the foundation, tower crumbles - chaos, screaming, roll credits.

Guess even pneumatic arms can't lift morale in a toxic workplace.

Man dies the way he was born: soft, weak and helpless. Death, the one certainty in this universe of chaos, can be both a tragic end and a release from suffering, It can come as an unexpected twist, or as a beautiful, crowning counterpart to a live well lived. The curse we face as humanity, the only living beings in constant awareness of death, is our inordinate focus on the fact. How much happier is the life of the gazelle that escapes the cheetah's clutches, thinking that it evaded death once and for all, than the poor soul living out his days knowing each step inches him closer to the void!

Jackie: Ahhh, there's the awkward silence. You, uh, wanna hear a joke?
T-Bug: Now? Seriously?
Jackie: Ok, so why'd the rockerboy's output kick him out of the apartment? ... Cause he wasn't chippin' in. Hahaa!

Not the brightest bulb on stage, are ya?