does anyone else ever think about guitars being alive? like these shitplanks being mass produced in china feel like they have diseases and they are in pain all the time then they get abused by their owners or when boomers buy a stratocaster and they relic it themselves with sandpaper and hammers the guitar wants to scream because its like going through cartel torture but we can't hear it then it ends up starving in solitary confinement because the boomer doesn't play it anyway, its why I always give my Christina a rubdown with high quality guitar polish and restring her from time to time to let her know she is loved. "good girl" I say as I readjust her trem block, I even pop a boner when I remove her pickguard (Its really her brassiere) yep thats Christina alright, the headstock says "Fender Stratocaster" but her heart says "play with me and hear me roar"