Ahh — Furry Lisa by good ole Beetlebrow, the one and only Ludwig Van, the Oven-man himself. He probably wouldn’t be all too pleased by this. He always struck me as a very serious fellow, and I don’t think he’d appreciate any clowning around on guitars. Guitars are so 17th century, while the piano is a thoroughly modern instrument — er, by Beetlebrow’s standards. In Beethoven’s eyes, only way he could get any more modern is if he bathed every week. Our guitar-wielding friend probably bathes every day, which would make him a bit of a weirdo to Ludwig. Only a psychotic or a degenerate would bathe himself that much.
Personally, I don’t think Beethaven’s opinions on personal hygiene should enter into it. The fellow did something a bit weird for the sake of being weird, and he should get a cookie for being a good sport. Of course, under no circumstance should that many guitars be allowed in one room. If you’re not careful a jam session might break out, or worse — they might start reproducing and make more guitars.
Elvis was looking forward to his next gig. Things were looking up for him. He marched onto the stage with confidence. However, after the spotlight came on, he realized that he forgot all of his songs. Suddenly, Elvis was nervous and fearful. In the heat of the moment and without any songs to sing, he just decided to do whatever. The King danced like a maniac and buffed the floor with his shoes. He smacked his guitar over and over, only sometimes producing an actual tone. Finally, he threw in some hollers here and there for good measure. It was the silliest show in his entire career.
Nothing beats full auto rock and roll. If the fans get rowdy you can fire a few warning shots to show that you mean business. You won’t need to hire any security, because no one will ever rush the stage. The venue owner will always pay up. No one will ever tell you to keep it down. It’s the only guitar suitable for robbing a liquor store after your gig. Groupies will be fewer and farther between, but they’ll have their hands in the air, that’s for sure.
I admit, a gold plated guitar is almost as bad as a double neck guitar, and this thing’s both. Either should be instant red flags and should be avoided by everyone other than twelve-year-old boys, and everyone that reads this site. But I also have to admit that full auto fretting is the shizzle.
Keep on rocking. The AK guitar is the perfect axe for your next Soviet Bloc party!
Rock Me, Rock Me, Rock Me, Rock Me, Rock Me Amadeus
I imagine that Beethoven wouldn’t have been a big Falco fan, but that’s not my problem. I’m sure Mozart wouldn’t have minded as much; he always struck me as having a good sense of humor. Beethoven, on the other hand, always seemed a little too serious for my tastes. It’s good to have a passion for your work, but when you’re so uptight that you could crush a walnut between the wrinkles on your forehead, you need to lighten up a little. Doom and gloom really loses its luster after a while, and Beethoven always reeked of doom and gloom to me. I don’t think he could help it. After the life he had, he’s more than entitled to be a bit moody, but there’s more to life than scowling at strangers in the park. Even if you’re well within your rights to be miserable, it’s much more commendable to project a pleasant demeanor.