They wear the uniforms of their former oppressors. The uniforms are metaphors for our rampant cynicism. Our cynicism is a mask for illness and senility. Illness and senility exact their merciless measures. We, my friends, are the lucky survivors. We chose wisely where human and natural laws collide. We told lies because we wanted to believe them. Inside the error was a truth; inside the truth was an error. We sacrificed our ideals to protect the ideals of the people. We put on the uniforms that the people held up for us to wear.