I am camping in a Bonnaroo-like atmosphere. I'm sitting around, talking to a group of guys about the difficulties of my occupation. I sell weed in
Brooklyn, NY. It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it.

(Note: I just came back from Bonnaroo yesterday. Our neighbors were from
New York, and one of them definitely hailed from Brooklyn. I definitely just lifted this dream from the events of the past five days.)