Stealing, you'll go far in life. Actually, there is something

When Mike Judge said, “Stealing, you’ll go far in life. Actually, there is something funny about getting away with it,” he was not glorifying theft, but illuminating one of the great paradoxes of human nature — the strange, mischievous thrill of defying the order of things. His words are laced with irony, the kind of humor that mocks our own hypocrisies. For Judge, the creator of stories filled with satire and absurdity, this quote is not an invitation to immorality, but a mirror held up to society itself — to show that even in wrongdoing, humanity finds laughter, and in laughter, the uncomfortable recognition of truth.

The origin of this saying lies in the world Judge has so often explored — a world of middle managers, schemers, and dreamers, where rebellion simmers beneath the dull glow of office lights. It echoes especially the spirit of his film Office Space, where characters steal fractions of a cent from their company’s transactions — small enough to go unnoticed, yet large enough to symbolize defiance. The humor arises not from the act of theft itself, but from the delight in subverting a broken system. “Getting away with it” becomes, in his hands, not a crime of greed, but a symbolic victory against absurd authority. It is the laughter of the powerless who have outwitted the machinery of control, if only for a moment.

The ancients, too, understood this laughter of rebellion. Consider the tale of Hermes, the Greek god of wit and trickery, who as a newborn stole the sacred cattle of Apollo. When Apollo found him and accused him, Hermes feigned innocence with such charm and eloquence that even Zeus, king of the gods, laughed instead of punishing him. Thus Hermes became the patron of thieves and merchants alike, and the messenger between heaven and earth — proof that cleverness, when tempered with humor, could become a divine attribute. Mike Judge’s quip walks this same ancient line: he is not praising deceit, but celebrating the craft of cunning, the human spark that finds loopholes in an unjust order.

But beneath the laughter lies a warning. For though it is “funny” to get away with it, Judge’s irony reminds us that such amusement is fleeting. The delight in rebellion fades if it becomes habit, and the trickster who steals too long becomes enslaved by his own schemes. Cleverness without conscience becomes corruption. History gives us many such figures — men who mistook getting away with wrongdoing for wisdom. The pirate may revel in freedom, but if he forgets honor, his laughter turns hollow. The ancient Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu warned that the clever man without virtue is like a thief who robs his own spirit; he gains the world’s amusement but loses his soul’s peace.

Still, the heart of Judge’s humor is not cynicism, but recognition. He knows that humans are not saints. We are creatures who test boundaries, who stumble, who find joy in mischief even as we reach for goodness. His words capture that eternal contradiction — that even in laughter, there is confession. When we laugh at the idea of “getting away with it,” we are laughing at our own hidden desires — the wish to bend the rules, to prove we are cleverer than the world that confines us. Comedy, for Judge, is a sacred act of truth-telling through laughter, for it exposes what solemnity dares not admit.

Consider also how many great inventions, discoveries, and revolutions began as acts of “theft” — the stealing of fire by Prometheus, the appropriation of forbidden knowledge by Galileo and Copernicus, who defied the heavens themselves. To steal, in its noblest form, can mean to take back what was unjustly withheld: freedom, truth, creativity. In this sense, the trickster and the artist share the same soul. Both break boundaries. Both take what the world says they cannot have. And when they “get away with it,” the world laughs — and then learns.

Thus, dear listener, the lesson of Mike Judge’s jest is twofold. First, do not take his words as license for deceit, but as insight into the human spirit’s thirst for freedom. Laugh at the absurdity of life, but also learn from it. Be clever, but not cruel. Be bold, but not corrupt. Let your rebellion be guided by wisdom, your wit by purpose. The joy of “getting away with it” fades; the joy of turning defiance into creation endures.

And so, Judge’s humor becomes a teaching fit for all ages: that the line between mischief and mastery lies in intention. Steal only from ignorance, from fear, from mediocrity. Take what limits you, and turn it into laughter. For though “getting away with it” may be funny, getting away with truth — smuggling light through the cracks of a broken world — is the greater triumph, and the nobler art.