When I was in kindergarten, nobody knew what a consultant was. I, for one, wanted to be a bunny when I grew up. Not a bunny rancher or anything like that – actually I suppose that’s probably a fictional job title as well – perhaps “bunny wranglers” exist out there but I don’t actually want to know – but yes, I wanted to be an actual bunny rabbit. With the big floppy ears, propensity for lettuce, the whole snazzy bunny package. I didn’t know how much money one earned as a bunny, and wasn’t particularly concerned – I’m sure that food and shelter would pretty much take care of themselves, and really all the other silly things we spend money on are unnecessary when one is a bunny rabbit. Don’t have to buy clothes, for example. Don’t have to worry what sort of image you present to the world. [...] Because they don’t care about what I think, because I’m the one guy in the bar who’s clearly uncool. But man, soon as a bunny hops into one of the bars on Clark or Division, all the ladies are like “awwwww” and the dudes are like “hey, it’s a bunny. I respect that.” I really knew what was up when I was in kindergarten.
Context still doesn't know what it wants to be when it grows up, because it doesn't intend to grow up.