When I was in college, a friend gave me a cassette containing the frustrated rantings of a guy named Bruce. Bruce is a dad from suburban Jersey. He tries to fix things around the house, like the family piano. He does his own taxes. And he uses very colorful language, some of which was caught on tape by his son. Listen for yourself here (6MB MP3 file, NSFW)
When I listened to this at 22, all I heard was Bruce's rage. I thought it was hilarious. Listening now... Well, it's still hilarious. But it's kinda sad, too. His kids are no help. Half his fucking papers have disappeared. He can't even let himself go enough to really commit to his cursing. His goddamns are outnumbered by his goshdarns. He even doggones once or twice. It's tempting to read all sorts of things into this diatribe. Is it really about the piano? Or was he passed over for a promotion? Does he know his son is hiding somewhere nearby taping his every word? Did the car break down? Does his wife not appreciate him? Have his glory days passed him by? Who knows? Poor Bruce. If we can learn one thing from him, it's to spend the $300 and buy the right fucking tool. Ya fucking moron!