Ron Swanson: We need to talk.
Ben: What is that?
Ron Swanson: This is a flying robot I just shot out of the sky after it delivered a package to my house.
Leslie Knope: I thought you didn't like to pass judgment on business--
Ron Swanson: The package was addressed to my son, who is four years old, and does not own a Gryzzl doodad. Somehow the robots looked at Diane's computer and learned something about my child and then brought him a box of presents, so I destroyed the robot. [metal clatters] No one is safe from these bastards. Tell me what to do, Leslie. [thunder rumbles] I wanna help you take them down.