Trumpet Fight
Yeah, suck! How dare you d-d-, ruin it for everybody else! Get out! No! No, you go! I'm not goin’ anywhere, shithead! Get the fuck out of my neighborhood! GET OUT! You're no artist, you suck! You're a mediocre piece of shit you can’t even play. You suck I've been playing 41 years. You suck. I'm a left-handed guitarist, you suck! NO! NO. NO! You go! Get the fuck out! GET THE FUCK OUT!

[Other man plays "Oh Susanna" badly on trumpet] GET OUT! [Man stops, then resumes playing] FUCK YOU! Fucking asshole. [Man finishes]

Get out. Where are you from? Where are you from? Go to a studio and rehearse! Maybe someday you'll learn! You suck! You're a no-talent piece of shit! You impose your lack of talent in awe of anybody around here whether people endure it or not! [?] GET OUT! How dare you come down here and do this! I'm here 14 years I've lived in this town my whole life! You're a disgrace! You suck! How dare you I’m a- three blocks down!

Who the hell do you think you are? Who the hell do you think you are? You any kind of artist? Anybody know who you are? Maybe everybody else who wants to join the peace and quiet! This is one of the most important places in all of North America who are you. WHO ARE YOU?

You miserable presumptuous no-talent! You’re no artist! An artist respects the silence it serves as the foundation of creativity. You obviously don't have the talent. You don’t have enough respect for yourself or other people, or what it is to express yourself. In music, or any other form of creativity. And I'm an NYU film school graduate, suckah! And the School of Visual Arts. And the Academy of Art University San Francisco.

You suck! You are no talent. If you really had talent go practice, and then get yourself a gig! Instead of ruining the end of the day for everybody down here. You disgrace! You are everything that's gone wrong in this world! You are so consumed, no talent, mediocre piece of shit! And I've earned my right to say it! Okay?

I had 20,000 people at Bill Graham. In 1975! I walked Bob Dylan up on stage! Who the fuck are you? I knew the Grateful Dead from 1966? Who the fuck are YOU? You nothing! You nothing! You are nothing. And you will never be anything. Never! How dare you! How dare you. You miserable mediocre nothing. Shame on you. You crack stupid little smile. You little pip. Go learn to play. Go learn to play.

You’re flat! You can't even carry a fucking note! I don't care about your little like horn lip. 'S doesn't mean that you know how to play. You're flat! I'm trained classically, I'm trained contemporaneously, you suck.
[Trumpet man: Alright, enough. Go away. Leave me alone.]
NO! No. No.