There are people in this world who get away with everything, and there are people who get away with nothing. I am certainly in the latter category, and that is why I am not a criminal. Of course, I have moral objections to murder, deceit, fraud, and mayhem, but these are buttressed by a lifetime of experience, knowing that if I dare stick a toe out of line, they'll catch me.
Let me illustrate. When I was twelve, my best friend for life Dick Lefevre, and my other best friend for life, Dave Hall, and I were walking across the schoolyard of Our Lady of Grace School, while sharpening our dirty joke technique. Dave told a story about some mythical person getting a BJ, and we all snorted in a manly fashion, even though we had no idea what a BJ was, and would be weirded out if somebody told us.
Then Dick told another joke about some mythical girl calling him Big Dick, and we snorted at that, again in a manly fashion. So far, the Sisters were all looking the other way, or were busy admonishing some girls for rolling up their skirts so that they were inches above the regulation length.
But then, it was my turn, and I told a joke about a mythical person's butt, or some such thing, and before we even got a chance to snort in a manly fashion, Sister Vincent appeared exactly behind me, and tapped me on the shoulder, while holding out a yellow detention ticket. I swear she beamed there, because I saw her on the other side of the school yard just seconds before.
Now let's take this five years into the future. Dick had bought a beautiful 1968 Mustang, and after polishing it forty or fifty times that day, announced that he wanted to put his new car through its paces. Time for Smokey Burnouts. And he knew a perfect place for it. There was a new housing development going up a few miles away, and while the houses were in various states of construction, the streets were brand new, perfect for screeching the tires and making smoke out of the burning rubber.
So Dick went first--half an hour of Smokey Burnout ecstasy, while I stood to the side taking pictures. So then Dave took a turn. Another half hour of uninterrupted smoke and noise, while I took more pictures. Finally, it was my turn, and I sat behind the wheel, revved the engine, and a police car appeared, lights flashing. A cop pulled himself out of the driver's side, and pulled out his ticket pad. I swear it was yellow. I was doomed.