Look, I know we've had our differences. I always thought of you as the father I never had.
Well, I mean the father with a Ferrari I never had. And I know that you've always thought
of me as a person that if I were your son, then I'd be the son that you wish you never had.
But, Dad, it's time to forget the little things in life and think about where your shit is going
to go when you're gone. You could die suddenly (or very very suddenly if I have a say)
... you could die suddenly and I might not hear about it for a few days - and given the
distance between us, some (other) undeserving bastard might get to your home first, break
in, and then claim your swag; therefore, Dad, don't you think it would be wise to update
your will, so the trinkets (Ferrari, or the 1925 whatever-it-is) that once seemed so important
to you will find their way to your son. Don't you think so, Dad?