Our life's a disaster zone. We got a stepdaughter so fucked up because her real father's this large-type asshole. We got a wife, we're passing each other on the down-slope of a marriage — our third — because we spend all our time chasing guys like you around the block. That's our life.

All right, so what we should do is come home and say, "Hi Honey, guess what? We walked into this house today where this junkie asshole just fried his baby in a microwave because it was crying too loud, so let us share that with you."

You know ... we're angry. We're very angry, Ralph. You know, you can ball our wife if she wants you to. You can lounge around here on her sofa, in her ex-husband's dead-tech, post-modernistic bullshit house if you want to. But you do not get to watch our fucking television set!

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