The Unhappiest Place on Earth

So yesterday, Mr. Gleemonex had to go to Guitar Center in search of some wall mounts for our axes (he accidentally left them off the order he placed with Musician's Friend a couple days ago). He thought he'd also try out a couple of guitars, browse around a little.

Yeahhh. Not with the hairy, gigantic Dave-Mustaine-lookin mothafucka standing in front of a huge stack of amps, plugged in and whalin away like only a Guitar Center Guy would do -- blasting the shit out of those amps at full volume, totally getting off on himself as Guitar God, deedly-deedly-woraaaauuuuwwww-deedly-deedly-deedly-deedly-chuk-chuk-chuk-reeeeeeeeeuuuuuwwww ...

You know what I mean? All these fucking licks those guys play instead of music, thinking how KICKASS they sound? While everyone else in the store grimaces and twitches and either leaves as soon as they can get out of there ... or kinda hangs around till they get their own moment in the awesome Guitar Center spotlight.

Needless to say, Mr. Gleemonex left without buying the (incredibly overpriced) wall mounts, and vowed never to go there again, which vow he, like most musicians, will keep until the next time he's been away long enough for the amnesia to blur this memory and there's something he needs sooner than he could get it by ordering online ... and the destructive cycle begins anew.