I stand before you a valuable member of a family. I am Cannon Fodder. Sure the title doesn't sound like much but damnit I'm proud to have it. I mean, I work my ass off to be valuable cannon fodder. What the hell do you do? Now some of you might be reading this as a critique of my glorious leader. You'd be very mistaken in doing so. I choose my own level of involvement. And if I want to be a cash cow, giving every cent I earn to the family, then that is my prerogative. Honestly I think a lot of you would be better off having a similar one.

Now simply earning money does not make you cannon fodder. You have to actively not seek out lazy bums to kill. It's not easy work passing these lowlifes, these inactive members of our world. Then once a war starts you get your ass to your home city and start with the prowacks. Sure you won't be the first to fall. Such a right is reserved for the most legendary of hitmen and hitwomen, but damnit you'll be a close second. After all it should be your failur as a hitperson that's keeping those legends alive. So go out there with pride fellow fodder. Keep knocking over that post office. After all, that postal worker doesn't know your most valuable trait is your inability to hit the broadside of a barn. The rest of the world may not know who you and your ancestors are, but you certainly do. I should certainly hope that counts for something.

LondonJohn is walking the streets when he hears this mafiosi addressing the small crowd that has gathered.
"Well said Mr Freeman.

Your role in protecting your family is not to be sneered at. Your job is as important as those who go out to kill the opposing family and their hitmen. cannon Fodder should never be underestimated or treated as second class as all the CL's know what an important task is laid on your shoulders.

Carry on with the good work."

With that LondonJohn carries on his way to deal some more drugs