ksdaddy

My guitar playing is horrible but it’s never discouraged or intimidated me to see some whiz-bang gunslinger like the ones shown in the shared videos. I’ve always said that no matter how hot sh__ you get, inside of a week there’ll be a 14 year old kid in Akron, OH that can play the same thing, only faster.

Most of us reach a stage where the hangover outweighs any good buzz we got. I reached that point in 2003 and never went back. It's nice to not have to cringe when looking at my credit card statement or browser history.

The belly down bridge is a prompt indicator of 1968 or later. The reddish burst matches my '69 B-45-12. And I have also seen round shouldered '69s. Not many out there I'm sure....

Sounds like a Greek law firm.

Someone quite close to me took a bite of an edible and nothing happened. Or seemingly so. So that person took another bite. Don't do that.

Age 14, 15, yep. All giggles and ZZ Top. Later on it was paranoia so I gave it up. My first (late) wife smoked like her name was Chong. 6 am was no problem. It was the center of her universe. Yes, me and the kids were outside that center. Distant second. Cheated on me regularly for a bag. Not easy being a cuckold. I dabbled in it as a supplement to pain meds in 2007 when I was cane-ridden with sciatica. Worked great. Felt like a million bucks. After I was off the pain meds, I lit up and sat on the tailgate of my pickup with a Seagull. I kept hitting the B string over and over for like 25 minutes because it sounded weird. I can't remember dabbling since then. Nothing against it.

It's the internet. Put all these people in one room and there will be little or no venom.

I always called it SpooJee. And it wasn't the same fluid.

I'm not one to travel. One of my bucket list places was always SoCal. I had a friend who worked for Fender and then OMI who lived in Huntington Beach. There was some talk of offering me a job at OMI back in the 80s and I professed to him that I always wanted to visit there because.... I mean let's face it, I grew up with the vision that California was surfboards, sand, grapes and hot rods. I wasn't so naive to believe it, but there was that mystique. He let the air out of my tires really fast. Probably the CA I envisioned never existed, but they sure painted a rosy picture in my head.

Off topic but not. If any one of you considers laser surgery on the prostate.... Don't.

I take half of one. Just so I don’t pee on my shoes.

Or you could just sell it to me. My workbench is empty.

I had bought it from the pawn shop. It had been pawned by a sketchy character who was into guitars and also a friend of the drunk. He never came back for it. I suspect HE was the one who painted it. He likely swapped the pickups out too, hoping to Strat-ify it somewhat. I don't think the drunk was much of a tinkerer. They were drinking buddies and I think he either sold it, gave it, or lent it to the sketchy guy. The drunk died in a car accident a few years later, rear ended by a bus full of migrant workers. This ended up with a lifelong friendship with the Sheriff's Deputy (later Detective).

In 1996 I bought a 1965 Jazzmaster that had been painted black. They had just sprayed over the original sunburst and I took the time to wet sand it down to the burst. Whatever clearcoat might have been there was gone, but it was better than the Krylon black. Someone had put some kind of Strat pickups under the Jazzmaster covers too. I put a set of Duncans in it. It ended up looking the part when I got done. Then a local resident, who was an extraordinary guitar player and a notorious drunk stopped by to chat about this and that. He saw the Jazzmaster and called the Sheriff's dept, claiming it was his. He claimed it was stolen from him. This ended up in a small claims court battle that lasted about a year and 4 court appearances. I'm skipping over the fine details and some of the more entertaining moments, but I won the case. This story could be several pages. Epilogue: there is no doubt in my mind he once owned the guitar, but gave it away or sold it while plastered. I sold the guitar about 3 hours after the judge said 'case dismissed'. I wanted no part of it. Every time I opened the case, I would think about the BS I went through for a year, defending my name. I sold it for $800, which was probably a fair price at the time, given it's finish condition and lack of original pickups.

I’ll buy the junk Jaguar neck for wall art if you’re inclined to let it go.

I'm currently shopping for a Jazzmaster or Jaguar and I have been clutching my chest Fred Sanford style at the prices. I fully expect to pay at least $4500 for a Jag or $6500 for a Jazzmaster. It's beyond mid life crisis. It's "I might die tomorrow" crisis. Restore it or part it out. People will pay stupid for the body and whatnot. In 1987 I sold a 1962 Jaguar neck for $40 and was glad to get it. I cry a lot.

To the best of my knowledge, the LG-1 had ladder bracing and the LG-2 had X bracing and that was the only difference. I'm confident if there are any fine points other than that, someone more knowledgeable will chime in.

Maybe he was trying to say "dog and pony show' and it was a Freudian Slip. Now I'm picturing Sigmund in a white slip. With a big cigar. If I ever dated AOC and things "progressed", I think it would be hot if she called me Wilbur.

Friday night I bought an original prop from Gilligan's Island. I also have an opportunity to buy a coconut cup from the set that Bob Denver kept weed in. Pricey though.

It's all in the presentation, isn't it?

If Biden were to nominate a black woman to the Supreme Court without having made it a campaign promise with the outward appearance of affirmative action or reverse discrimination, it would be a lot less of a hot topic.

Yep. Ain't touching this if I don't need to. No resolving this. But it makes for catharsis sometimes.

The past 24 hours have been Nazareth 2015, Fullerton 1977, Corona 1987, Kalamazoo 1947 and Neptune 1963 (with the reverb knob stuck at 10)

At the moment it is “All I ever need is you” by Sonny & Cher. Unprovoked, know not whence it came. Such is the nature of earworms. One of my twisted pleasures is singing a piece of a song in the presence of the intended victim in hopes of planting the earworm seed. Zombie by the Cranberries works every time.

There was an ES-135 that had trapezoids. Maybe that’s what this is? The barrel knobs and non adjustable pole pieces certainly place it early! Looks like a mahogany top? I always figured that was an L-48 feature but ya know Gibson…..