you're 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 has lived undistinguished, meaningless, pointless, failure-laden years and who at this moment looks for an escape, any escape. any way, anything, anybody, to get out of the rut. 