Another Ballad

This time of someone we have all met.
The Ballad of the Middle Class Male, from "Running From The Taxman, A Great American Road Trip"

The one art piece that disturbed me the most was a live performance entitled "The Ballad of the Middle Class Male." Played out by two actors, an overweight, pear shaped male stood center and front of a small stage. Behind and to the left of him was a well dressed and groomed but overweight woman. She had her finger pointed at him and her face was twisted in disgust. A screen was placed at the back of the stage, with text scrolling in a loop. The text was formatted in a series of descriptions separated by commas and broken by short reflection:

Fourteen hour days, plastic wrapped sandwiches for lunch, fast food on the way home for dinner, late nights paying bills, do it again five days a week, chores on Saturday, chores on Sunday, fourteen hour days Monday to Friday, plastic wrapped sandwiches for lunch, fast food on the way home for dinner, late nights paying bills, fourteen hour days, plastic wrapped sandwiches for lunch, fast food on the way home for dinner, late nights paying bills, do it again five days a week, chores on Saturday, chores on Sunday, fourteen hour days Monday to Friday, plastic wrapped sandwiches for lunch, fast food on the way home for dinner, late nights paying bills, fourteen hour days, plastic wrapped sandwiches for lunch, fast food on the way home for dinner, late nights paying bills, do it again five days a week, chores on Saturday, chores on Sunday, fourteen hour days Monday to Friday, plastic wrapped sandwiches for lunch, fast food on the way home for dinner, late nights paying bills, fourteen hour days, plastic wrapped sandwiches for lunch, fast food on the way home for dinner, late nights paying bills, do it again five days a week, chores on Saturday, chores on Sunday, fourteen hour days Monday to Friday, plastic wrapped sandwiches for lunch, fast food on the way home for dinner, late nights paying bills.

The man just stood there staring straight ahead. The woman continued to point and sneer. "He wastes his body away doing the best he can," the artist tells me. "She wants his youth back, wants him to be what he was before she changed him," she added. "What did he want?" asked a man in a flannel shirt before I had the chance. "He wanted to do what she wanted," the artist replied. "A lot of good that did him," said the same man.