Dear Big Mouth Billy Bass Manufacturers,

Far be it from me to criticize the concept of Mr. Big Mouth William Bass. A mounted fish that sings exactly two songs that you don’t get to pick is a perfect concept which should never be tampered with (unless you wanted to engrave on his plaque some tips on how to reel in the 600 pounders, which I’d be happy to write for you since it’s a subject I’m well-versed in). In fact, when I found out my brother-in-law hacked his so it could play the song Clint Eastwood sings at the end of Gran Torino, I reported him to the police. At the time, I believed the strain this put on my already frayed marriage was well worth it to protect your artistic integrity as the manufacturer of this fine product.

Before I get into my grievances, I would like to commend you on the subversive beauty of your invention. The way William contorts himself, girating, shaking, and dancing is a display of confidence that can only be described as intensely erotic. Yet his being mounted on the wall prevents him from ever being taken as a lover. This juxtaposition yields a friction in the viewer between two contrasting sensations we project onto this gentlemanly aquatic creature: the desired and the forbidden. And within this dichotomy lives the reason for William’s popularity. Simply put, we can have him, but not all of him. This only makes us want him more.

Given my enthusiasm for the product, you can imagine my disappointment when mine began malfunctioning. Each and every time I pass my Big Mouth William Bass, he mumbles, “dumb motherfucker” at me. And before you ask, yes, I tried replacing the batteries. A fresh set seemed to do nothing except make his tone even angrier.

I can also confirm that this glitch seems to be targeted at only me. William sings his classic songs when my wife and kids pass by him (however there was one time when I came home and heard a man’s voice say, “I can totally send you a list of the best divorce lawyers in the area,” but there was no one home except for my wife and William, and she denies this ever happened). So I can only assume you cut corners and cheaped out on a product I once believed to be perfect.

I suspect this is a problem with the motion sensor. I have huge muscles from reeling in all those 700 pounders. Perhaps the machine is confused because it can’t keep up with movements that display the kind of athleticism that mine do, resulting in the “dumb motherfucker” comments?

At any rate, whatever the problem is, it’s time for you to take responsibility. My children always called me a dumb motherfucker, but since they heard your fish calling me it? They’ve started doing it far more often. This wrong must be righted.

Ultimately, what I desire is what any customer in my situation would ask for: restitution. Being called a dumb motherfucker multiple times a day has impacted my self-esteem so severely that I can barely look at myself in the reflection of my boss’s shoes that he makes me spit shine. I just know if I was getting pumped up every morning by a little latex-covered robot fish that sings silly songs, I’d have the confidence to stand up to the old man (my boss is also my father-in-law and he is NOT pleased that I’m the reason his son is in prison, which further complicates things).

Unfortunately, the way for you to make amends is not as simple as a reimbursement. As you know, in 1999, Big Mouth William Bass retailed for $19.99, which is the price I purchased it for. At the time, I was trying to decide between spending the money on your product or investing it in a little company called Apple. Had I known about your product’s faulty design, I would never have purchased it. If I had invested that money instead, my Apple stock would be worth $3,721.16 today. I will take a check in this amount or as an alternate payment, you can also build me a Big Mouth William Bass the size of a car, since that’s worth at least $3,700 in my opinion. Either works for me, I’m flexible. Until then, I’ll be reeling in those 800 pounders.

By the way, I do not have the receipt.

Sincerely,
Dissatisfied Customer


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