Most of us watch this and wonder why this dude isn’t in a straight jacket drooling into a styrofoam cup at a psych ward but somewhere in a far away land, all of our third grade music teachers are watching the work of a savaant, a visionary. Because make no mistake, this is what they hoped we would amount to: the dude in a turquoise lemon going fucking berserk on plastic flute at a red light. This was the goal. The finished product. And after all of us pathetically squeaked by our recorder test and never touched the fucking thing again, this dude cut off the world to put in the man hours to be the best adult recorder player since, uh, I actually can’t imagine another grown ass man playing with a children’s toy. But when we arrive at the pearly gates of Heaven and God asks us what we’ve mastered on earth: this dude can assuredly say the recorder while I’ve only mastered the art of the stroking the skin flute. I guess we’re similar in that we both let out a high D minor note during the climax.
P.S. Like, where the fuck is this dude going? Where is he needed in society? How did he get a driver’s license? So many questions. Don’t think I want to know the answers. High possibility he just fucked your girlfriend though.