I might be horn-dog, but I'll let you decide after reading this post. What's that? You don't need to read this post to form an opinion on that matter? Hm. . .
If you're friends with me on Facebook, you may have noticed that I've been cruising youtube a lot lately. I love music and I've discovered that the site offers a plethora of live performances that are, quite simply, amazing to enjoy. Over the last several weeks, I've had a blast spending several hours watching clips from long-forgotten television programs and epic concerts from long before my birth.
I was born around twenty-years too late and my musical appetite usually is only sated by late-60s to mid-70s folk music, yacht rock, and the sublime harmonies & polished arrangements that seem to be completely absent in modern music. And guitars, baby. Lord of mercy, I do love guitarists!
My great regret in life is that I never learned how to play an instrument - any instrument. I was actually kicked out of band in school because I couldn't make sound happen when I blew a flute. Uh, settle down, that's not a euphemism for anything sexy. I really could not figure out how to hold my mouth when working with a flute. . .thankfully, the skin variety is far more receptive to my oral manipulations. And, yes, that last part means exactly what you think! Insert a saucy wink here!
I realize that I'm not dead and I still can find the time to learn how to pluck a few chords, but I don't see that happening. In typical parent fashion, I am instead giving my son solid encouragement to take up an instrument. I get the impression that most parents probably hate musical toys, but I actively have bought my son several instruments in an effort to encourage musical exploration. Sure, there are times that the cacophony is a little hard to take, but I'm generally delighted by his artful performances.
The best motherly advice I've given my son to date is this, "Be sure to learn how to be an instrument, the guitar or possibly the piano, because musicians get all the chicks." So sue me, I want him to get laid by hot chicks when he's a grown up. Yeah, I'm sure all this will be worked out in his therapy sessions in about 18-years.
I ran across a clip that effectively demonstrates why chicks dig guitarists. And, to keep the horny vibe going, it's a song by Cream. Heh, I wrote "vibe!" And "horny" and "cream." All in the same sentence! That might be the dirtiest-sounding sentence I've ever written. Okay, you're right; it's nowhere near reaching the notoriety of being the winner in the contest to find the top selection (or would that be bottom?) of my artistic literary depravity.
The entire performance is fantastically awesome, but Clapton is in full God-mode from about 4:05 through the end of the clip. DAMN! That mofo sure can play! Add that he looks high as Hell in this performance and I'm just blown away by his gift.
Check at the 5:20 (to about 5:30) mark to see why I'm captivated by guitarists. Honestly, even the most pug-ugly guitarist can get the chicks if he do that with his hands. I don't think it would take more than around fifteen seconds with that kind of concentrated pressure and vibration - if you catch my drift! I think I got wet just from watching it and I'm not talking about peeing myself.
If a guitarist can work his instrument with that kind of skill and precision, just imagine what he could do with his hands on the instrument of your body. Granted, there is no other guitarist who can come remotely close to the greatness that is Eric Clapton, but the point still stands.
You know, I don't think the word "might" is really necessary in my opening sentence. . .