It's not that I don't appreciate being granted membership of the Minutemen, though I was certainly a little surprised. I would have thought that my regular use of Jet, Buffout and an as-yet-unnamed Deathclaw derived hallucinogen would have disqualified me for sure. But no, you gave me the chance to help safeguard the wasteland. I also appreciate the fact that you turned a blind eye that I time I leapt on that settler's table and started kicking objects about. Though, truth be told, I was a little surprised that you didn't even flinch when the Nuka-Cola bottle I sent flying hit you right in the face. At the time, I assumed it must have been that famous Minutemen stoicism that I'd heard so much about.
Furthermore, I was deeply honoured when you granted me the title of General, making me leader of the Minutemen. I feel I have, in turn, justified your trust by not only getting clean but by helping re-establish the Minutemen as a force to be reckoned with. I wear the uniform of Minuteman General with pride, even though it still has a rather musty odour, on account of the last owner having met an unpleasant demise. In fact, now I think about it, shouldn't we bury the Old General? I'm not sure having his decaying underpant-clad corpse kicking around HQ sends the right message.
But to return to the matter in hand, I have become rather disillusioned with my role in the Minutemen. Despite being 'The General', the supposed leader of the Minutemen, I seem to be in charge of precisely nothing. Zero. Zilch. Zip. Nada. Let me give you an example. We seem to have something of a Mirelurk problem in the Commonwealth, and so I decided it'd be wise to send some of our men to clear out some of the more coastal areas. Did anyone listen? Hell, no! They just mouthed some vague platitudes, as if I'd merely asked them how their days was going. One even tried to sell me a laser pistol! Why do I even have to pay for things when I'm supposedly in charge?
So I decided to come to you for your support. And what did you do? You tried to give me a quest. I swear, I came this close to slapping your ridiculous hat off. You have been pulling this same crap for TWELVE DAMN WEEKS! Can you explain just why my role as General appears to involving nothing more than wandering over to some remote settlement just to kill some raiders? And here's the messed up thing – half the time, it's the same damn settlement, and the same damn raiders! I've killed the same raider leader three times! And I checked – he wasn't a synth. It was the SAME DAMN GUY! What the hell is going on there?
I have thought about quitting and joining some other organisation, but why the hell should I? You put me in charge of the Minutemen, and yet I have no real authority. But you, my friend, have made a grave mistake. You see, while you may not let me order around the men who are supposedly under my command, you seem to be fine with me building whole settlements. Not unlike the Brotherhood of Steel's new guy. Oh, you haven't met him – but I have. I bumped into him the other week, and it turns out he had the same problem. You know how he got his own back? Well, let's just say that the five hundred foot light-up dong on the side of the BOS's new skyscraper base – the one visible across the whole of the wasteland - isn't the result of an electrical fault. Just something to think about.
General Bongo P. Watson