Acoustic Guitars – An instrument for adults who were really good at the recorder

I am a lover of music. I listen, I watch, I even buy vinyl, because it’s more pretentious than CDs. I support artists, I encourage creation. But some guy that knows two Neil Young songs and lays one down twice a year with an acoustic guitar at the cottage is not fucking music, it’s noise.

Look, there are times when listening to someone playing acoustic guitar is wonderful, when you’re expecting it. Maybe a folk show in some bar on the outskirts of town, totally acceptable. A singalong around the campfire, on occasion, when everyone is on campfire guitarboard, fine by me. But for the sake of our sanity, keep it to a couple songs, people are there to converse, not listen to your shitty Oasis covers. But maybeeee, you’re gonna be the one drives me crazyyyy. And after all, you’re not that wonderful. Plus, they probably rather be listening to Kanye.

The people that can’t seem to put the fucker down, as though it’s a musical appendage (a clarinet arm would be amazing), are the ones that ruin acoustic guitars for the masses. Couple that with the addition of what they think are soulful lyrics over their shitty guitar playing, and I am ready to embrace 187 in all its gory glory. Because you know what’s even worse than an asshole with an acoustic, an asshole with an acoustic whose voice is so gut-wrenchingly awful, that they make Bono sound like Andrea Bocelli.

And to make matters worse, some of them “write” their own lyrics, so it’s just hours of the same chords and them gently signing about their feelings. And on top of that, they start to make those stupid John Meyer faces, like they are really feeling the music. Jesus, what could be fucking worse? I rather go to a Justin Bieber concert, at least he can dance. I’d actually be okay with an acoustic player dancing around a campfire, in the hope that they fall into it.

Just the other day, while trying to embrace the last few days of summer, I took my pale body to the beach for what I thought would be a relaxing time. Unfortunately, I forgot about all the kids peeing their little hearts out into the already E. coli filled water (the beach is pretty guitar beachmuch next door to our sewage plant), and secondly, I didn’t anticipate that a douche-canoe (it works, as he was at the beach like a canoe) would decide to bring his acoustic guitar with him. And not just at his designated spot on the beach, this asshole was fully walking into the water playing shitty guitar (he made that guy from the “Peaches” song, who only had two strings on his bass-guitar, look like Jeff Beck). On top of that, he was kinda humming some shitty tune over top of it. Not singing, just a soft wailing, a sort of modern day version of chanting, but without the purpose or cultural significance.

If someone playing music on a boombox in public is a faux pas, why is it okay when it’s some untrained buffoon with a 200 dollar guitar form Walmart?

You’re not Neil Young and never will be. And if you think you’ll be discovered by some Sony exec who just happens to be attending the same bonfire as you, you won’t. If anything, they’ll make sure you never set foot on a stage, anywhere, because you are an annoying, fender in fireawful person with the musical talent of a Rubik’s cube. You may be asking yourself how a Rubik’s cube has any musical talent at all? Exactly my point. The only justifiable reason to bring an acoustic guitar to a bonfire is for kindling.

Sentence: Anyone caught playing acoustic guitar in a public venue, without prior consent or encouragement from a majority of those in attendance, will receive two days at Society Camp.

Reform Punishment: You will be forced to play Smoke on the Water (every music store employee’s favourite song) for 46 hours straight, without a pick, until your fingers stigmata themselves into a bloody, painful mess. And then, when you can no longer strum another chord, we’ll bring in that Sony exec for your one big break, only so that they can laugh at you and shatter your dreams, when you start to cry from the pain of trying to play Stairway to Heaven, the only song you probably know.

If you want to be some musical hero who plays the guitar all day long, go buy a PlayStation and leave the rest of us the hell alone.

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