Tuesday, 17 April 2012

Cassandra and Jane

Today, I'd like to introduce you to two very special women in my life, Cassandra and Jane. These two ladies have been with me a long time and have proven their worth to me time and time again by helping me get over some rough patches in my life.

That beauty right there is Cassandra. If you're not a learned scholar such as myself, let me tell you what you're looking at; an Ibanez Iceman, one of the sexiest guitars that was ever forged by human hands. Mahogany body, maple neck, rosewood fingerboard, all beautiful of course, but nothing in comparison to those gorgeous Super 80 pickups. High output, bright, no mud, sexy, 'nuff said. I would say that every hot-blooded guitarist in the world should have one of these but then I wouldn't feel as special every time I wrap my fingers around that neck and jam like a motherfucker. A sweet setup, to be sure.

This baby is Jane, my Epiphone Thunderbird IV. I've had her a couple of years now and have never felt the need to part with her once. You know why? Because she's a beautiful creature with the sweetest tone I ever did hear. Again, that beautiful triple combo of mahogany, maple and rosewood and the TB pickups give this beast punch and growl out the wazoo. Fuck Wagner, this is what should have been accompanying the Nazis as they marched into Poland. This here bass sounds like a war machine and it's still smooth as Santana. If you're wondering what the wet patch in your underwear is it, that was the best motherfucking guitargasm of your life and before you say it; you're goddamn welcome.

(These aren't actual pictures of my guitars, I got them from Google. I know what you people are like, you could track me down by performing some voodoo magic on the information in the photos. Not that I think there's anyone after me but a dude's got to have a certain level of paranoia right?)


  1. Why would we want to track you down? You're just another asshole on the internet... right?

    1. Yeah, but I live near people who aren't just assholes on the Internet, as you well know.

    2. ...true. Trackers are a bitch to piss off.

    3. Our trackers aren't that bad. The real problem is if they find you and you end up with Dullahan on your tail.

    4. Yours, maybe. The ones I'm familiar with? Could tear your face off without ever meeting you. Fuckin' scary people, intense as can be. And you never know how much they know.