Aren’t those things supposed to have pedals?
“Yeah, but they’re tricky. I’m just faking it over here.”
Is that a Dusenberg Pomona 6?
“You had nothing better to do than to find out where I bought my steel guitar?”
No. Jesus, look at this website. It’s the digital equivalent of the Champagne Room at the Porsche dealership.
“There is no Champagne Room at the Porsche dealership. They’ll take you into the break room and tongue you for a while, but there’s no ‘Champagne Room.’ The GM will usually tug at you, too, if you seem receptive. That’s not abnormal for us.”
“Almost all of our services come with a tugger attached. At the very least. Sometimes you’ll get more, or even way more, but you’ll always get a tugger. I buy a watch for a million? I expect free shipping, and I demand to be worked off.”
Capitalism is scary.
Okay, this is absurd:
And there’s no prices. My father warned me about that. Everyone’s fathers warned them about that.
Jesus Christ. Look here:
SHOW ME YOUR BUTTHOLE.
I feel home within buttholes. THERE IS MUSIC IN YOUR BUTTHOLE.
You barely even wrote 200 words, and lost control in the curve. Why can’t you concentrate?
Boo, you’re the worst. Anyway, it turns out that Duesenberg’s aren’t as ferociously expensive as they might be: you can get a used Pomona 6 for $2,300, cash on the barrel, which seems about right for a fancy guitar. Duesenberg guitars are not made by intolerable hipsters–
–but by clueless foreigners. Try and read that paragraph without a comically German accent. Duesenberg ist DREI MACHT STEPPEN! Also: Dieter Golsdorf? Here he is:
Because everything is a circle, maaaaaan.