You know I've always envisioned myself playing one of these guitars. Maybe in my dreams, I see myself in a bar down in the Keys, rockin' a Kangol, wearing a linen shirt with some kind of animal print on it (maybe parrots or perhaps a bear paw print), smoking a non-filtered cigarette and thumbing my nose at society at large while I play something so deep, only Buddha could understand. As the palm leaf ceiling fans swirled over my head, I fell into a jazz- induced hypnotic trance, inspired, no possessed by the ghost of Wes Montgomery. As my eyes roll back into my head, the sound of this luxurious blonde beauty transports all there that witness to Jazz nirvana. As I opened my eyes, the crowd merely sat there, slack jawed. I called for some giggle water ( interesting terminology) and thought to myself, "Where did that come from?" but nevertheless, I was in the zone. You know the zone right? That's like being Micheal Jordan in game 7. The notes popped off the fretboard, effortlessly. Tone and sustain for days, just feeling it. Burning it down (well, in my dream ) when all of a sudden, Ray, being Ray played the latest offering from Between the Buried and Me (Friends, if this band came out 50 years ago, J. Edger Hoover would have had them shot and enact a new law to justify his actions). Really... Ray woke me in the middle of a wonderful daydream. Hater, just a hater. 'Elks, this is a guitar that will give you the power to do just what I described. What's that you say? Dream and that ability is sorely missed in this society we live in now. Imagination. Grasp it, live it.