Or Al Pacino.

Or, I don’t know, one of those spooky modern-day Navajo chieftains people just kind of meet in the middle of a random desert or in a dilapidated diner in an equally dilapidated gas station in the middle of a very uninhabited town en route to, I dunno, Tijuana, Mexico perhaps.

Y’know, those guys from the movies who go, “Say, kiddo, what say you I buy you a drink and show you around town?”

Right.

Drive kiddo ’round bonkersville and straight into heaps more psychoemotional, psychoanalytic, this-is-the-real-world-its-sucks-but-I-think-you’re-gonna-love-it stress than he’s already been wallowing in, that’s what they’d do.

Then bam– life lesson.

Next thing you know, there go a perky epilogue off a-rolling with the credits:

After meeting spooky modern-day Navajo chieftain man