No, no, it cannot be blind luck or some imaginary relative who saves us. No, I earned that money. Me! And now my son created his own website: SaveWalterWhite.com. Soliciting anonymous donations! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?!
Well, look at that. It's got PayPal and everything.
Cyber-begging, that's all that is. Just rattling a little tin cup to the entire world.
[sarcastically] Yeah, there's no deep-seated issues there. Walter, I'm looking at the answer right here. It's staring me in the face. Do I have to spell it out for you?
I know, I know. You're thinking that I should be funneling money into my son's website, but absolutely not. No. I am not going to have my family think that some mystery benefactor saved us!
Not some mystery benefactor, singular. That would raise too many questions. However—stay with me here... Zombies. [chuckles] I got a guy who knows this guy, who knows this Rain Man type. Right? He lives with his mother in her basement in Belarus, alright? So good luck extraditing his fat Russian ass.
[Walter is about to leave when Saul stops him]
Wait, wait! He's a hacker-cracker extraordinaire. This guy can hijack random desktops all around the world, turn them into zombies that do his bidding. For instance, he can make it so 20, or 30,000 little donations come in from all over the U.S. and Canada. Ten, 20, 50 bucks a pop, all paid in full—nice and neat, untraceable—from the good-hearted people of the world to Mr. Walter H. White, cancer saint. Heh. I'm getting a warm and fuzzy feeling just thinking about it.
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