Narrator: You are looking at Mr. Fred Renard, who carries on his shoulder a chip the size of the national debt. This is a sour man. A friendless man. A lonely man. A grasping, compulsive, nervous man. This is a man who lived thirty-six undistinguished, meaningless, pointless, failure-laden years. And who, at this moment, looks for an escape, any escape, any way, anything, anybody to get our of the rut.
