The trumpet playing of a street performer illicited the deepest of rage from this man, who turned in an over-the-top, Pacino-esque performance when verbally ripping the trumpet-playing "sucka" a new asshole. For just under four minutes, the man eviscerates the trumpeter, and his anger is only amplified when the man mocks him by playing the instrument over his criticism. Wrong move.
A meltdown of this scale could only be triggered by decades of torment. He's just so appalled at the nerve of this man to not only play the trumpet, but dismiss him with such wanton disrespect. Disgusted by this amateur, the disheveled man finally spikes his belongings like Rob Gronkowski and rattles off his resume. There's such disdain in his rant that it makes Gucci Mane's Twitter assault look pedestrian.
If Falling Down was about Oswald Cobblepot, it would star this man. It should've starred this man.
He's an NYU film school graduate, he's earned the right to talk shit—he walked Bob Dylan onto stage before. Who the fuck are we? He knew the Grateful Dead back in '66. Who the fuck are we?
He did everything but thank the Academy.