"Let me think..." He looks at the clouds, wistfully. "I heard someone was hanged and left…

He doesn't know anything, because no one tells him anything. He's an outsider.

"Of course he's not a member! He's not a member of anything. I knew that." He frowns. "He's a weathervane -- turns to where the wind blows and tries to look important."

"I hate the socialist rabble," he continues, "but even siding with them is better than living your entire life on the fence, never committing to anything. Pick a damn side already!"

"'In many ways'?"

"Oh yes."

"Respects?!" The old carabineer can't believe what he's hearing.

"Really? You know absolutely nothing?"