sparquelito

Very sad. 😔 https://www.msn.com/en-gb/entertainment/music/he-was-a-remarkable-musician-and-friend-jeff-lynne-pays-tribute-to-electric-light-orchestra-keyboard-player-richard-tandy-who-has-died-aged-76/ar-AA1o0g85

When you say FIrebird pickup, do you mean the mini-humbucker? 🙂

A power chord is a musical colloquial expression for a chord on an electric guitar that consists of the root note and the fifth, and sometimes octaves of those notes. Power chords are played with an amplifier with added distortion or overdrive pedal effects. Power chords are a key element of hard rock, heavy metal, and punk rock. When power chords go missing like this, it's best not to panic. They are known to sometime wander. Leave the back door unlocked, and chances are they'll come home on their own. 😐

Opinions are like a drunk uncle. Everybody's got one. (And some of us ARE one.) 😐

I own one of these. But I have never even removed the truss rod cover. I'm assuming it's a single action truss rod. Enlighten me though; Is there an easy way to tell? 🙂

In the year 2224, if man is still alive, if woman can survive, they may find 😐

If the prayers of a lapsed Catholic help in any way, I offer prayers to John for a positive outcome and a speedy recovery. 🙂

I offered Klapesztor (using an online translator, as Karloff indicated): Let's try a scientific approach to problem solving; Does the hum change when you turn your back on the amp? Have you tried different guitar cables and another amp to see if the humming persists? Is the hum the same for all three settings of the pickup selector switch? The only language I can translate by myself is German. And even that is getting a bit rusty from disuse. 😔

Klapesztor, Spróbujmy naukowego podejścia do rozwiązywania problemów; Czy buczenie zmienia się, gdy odwracasz się tyłem do wzmacniacza? Czy wypróbowałeś różne kable gitarowe i inny wzmacniacz, aby sprawdzić, czy buczenie nadal występuje? Czy buczenie jest takie samo dla wszystkich trzech ustawień przełącznika wyboru przetwornika? 😐

Not to side-track the conversation, but "Pretending to be a fidiot" sound a lot like what Seaman Doug Hegdahl did while in captivity during the Vietnam war. An amazing man and an awesome story! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doug_Hegdahl

Obeast o·beast /ˌo beest/ Adjective and/or pejorative noun an woman who is extremely overweight but also unattractive. ( e.g. That gal at the bar wasn't just fat and ugly, she was positively obeast.) 🤨

The RRHOF lost me, and my attention, years ago. The Grammys too. Same corporate, clueless kinds of committees. I recall seeing Metallica on stage in 1989 at the awards show, playing their A$$E$ off, and killing a live rock performance. Moments later, they awarded that years "Best Hard Rock/Heavy Metal Recording" to Jethro Tull. Never paid attention after that. (Well, years later, I watched replay on my computer of the evening when ELO finally got inducted into the Hall. But was miffed when they only included the early lineup of Roy Wood, Jeff Lynne, Bev Bevan, and Richard Tandy. No respect at all for Hugh McDowell, Melvin Gale, Mik Kaminski, or Kelly Groucutt.) 😐

I had the opposite situation. I barely had the credits to graduate in my senior year. Didn't enjoy high school at all. In fact I barely tolerated it. We were pretty poor, so I spent all my time at my job as a 3rd Manager at Hardee's. Extra work house meant extra money, and all of us kids helped our mom to pay the mortgage and utility bills. I made good grades in the classes I enjoyed, and flunked the classes that didn't inspire me. I made A's in Jr ROTC, English, Biology, History, Chemistry, etc. But math was another story. My Geometry teacher was bored, and hanging on for retirement. She put me right to sleep. My Algebra teacher was a narrow minded, dogmatic, angry person, and I literally couldn't understand a word he said. I don't mean to say that he spoke in concepts that were beyond my comprehension. I mean to say that he spoke in a form of southern colloquial English that was unintelligible to me. He may as well have had a mouthful of marbles for it mattered to me. One day early in my senior year in high school, a teacher handed me a note, telling me to report to the Principal's office. I left class and wandered the halls, looking for the Principal's office. I had no idea where it was, as I had never been in trouble, and had never the opportunity to visit there. Some girl coming in from the smoke break area pointed me in the right direction and I reported to some secretary lady. She ushered me into a Counselor's office directly. "John, I called you in here today because you lack the math credits to graduate with your class this year." "Wait, that can't be. I attended summer school just to get ahead. I have taken all kinds of math since I came to this school." "Yes, but you flunked most of those math classes. And Mister Fleming says that you regularly sleep through his Algebra II class, which you have failed out of more than once." "Well, this is not good. What can I do to graduate and get myself out of this place?" The counselor smiled. He sensed correctly that I detested the high school, and wanted out of there. "It's actually quite easy. You are about to finish the first Semester and go into the 2nd and last Semester of your senior year. I'm signing you up for Math 101. It's basic math aimed at Sophomore students, and I think you'll do just fine. Complete that class, and you will have enough credits to graduate with your class." "Outstanding. Thank you, sir." I shook his hand and went on my way. Sure enough, Math 101 was great. The teacher was brand new to the school, as he was fresh out of college, and just getting his feet under him. His name was Cletus Ray Faulk, and he was a great fellow. Lean, blonde haired, and wearing black horn rimmed glasses, he was pleasant, articulate, and possessing of a great sense of humor. I was seated in the middle of his class, among a small number of Sophomores, and a larger number of Seniors who, like me, needed that one math credit to graduate. Those guys were all football players, and barely fit in their school desks. I caught fire, and really loved the class. In short order, I was a teacher's assistant, and I spent time after class, tutoring other kids who weren't catching on so well. It was a great time, and one of my few positive memories of the high school experience. I graduated of course, and ended up joining the Army, and flying helicopters. The high math that I later took in college was a breeze to me, as I was blessed with one the best and most entertaining instructors I have ever known, Embry Riddle's Dr. Byrd. I spent most of my Army career as an Instructor Pilot, and I can honestly say that I turned out to be a really good teacher. I had learned the lessons that Dr Byrd, Mr. Faulk, and my Jr High school home room teacher, Ms. Susan Ray taught me; Make learning challenging but fun. Maintain high standards, but keep a sense of humor about yourself. No one single approach/method works for all students. Tailor your instruction toward each student's unique strengths and weaknesses. and, Aim for the highest levels of learning, not just "rote memorization and whatever it takes to pass the next test". Anyway. I'm gonna shut up now. 😐

I don't know why, but this thread and topic reminds me of a school tour to the German Leather Museum (Deutsches Ledermuseum) that I attended in the early 1970's. I went back years later in the early 1990's, and the place and the groove hadn't changed that much. It's still there, just east of Frankfurt. https://www.ledermuseum.de/en What is a common thing that we all use and/or wear, and take for granted? What's the history? How ornate and intricate can it be in art and form? Anyway. I'm gonna shut up now. 😔