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Discussion in 'Authorized PRS Dealers' started by WildWestGuitars, May 9, 2015.
Yo Plank Spanker,
A poignant observation, mymaaaaaaaaaaaan!
BANG STALLIONS UNITE !!!!
How did I get in that picture?
Great question, Serge Protector! The photo of 11Top De Pfennrock (in his trademark Joseph A Bank leather sportcoat), you and me was most certainly taken at BWI airport, as 11'ner n' I left Wonkaville, MD, this past Rocktober 2014, knowing full-well that the Winter Gray Feather-Crotch Beast from The East was "in motion" at The PRS Factory. I remember that you appeared to be disoriented, and were rambling on about catching a connecting flight to Thailand to meet Dr. Know... (or whatever his name is). I remember, despite my sleep-deprived state, that you were on yet another Pina-Colada tear, and Trini, the flamboyant airport bartender, appeared to be exasperated with your repeated demands that the rim of your cocktail glass be coated with a rare Parisian Herve Villechaize Fantasy Island Cocktail Sugar. Clearly, Trini had run out of the rare sugar. Still, you persisted. I didn't care. It's Only Rock n' Roll! But I hope you left Trini a nice airport-bar-sized tip for all of his above-and-beyond services. When you insisted that Trini cut open his last coconut to be the organic vessel for your final Pina Colada round, I remember thinking, Serge Protector has a need for speed that rivals Maverick and Iceman....
While I have little recollection of the event, your story fills in a few gaps that my lawyer asked about upon reviewing the closed-circuit camera footage provided by BWI security.
I do remember getting nervous in the TSA line at BWI, I began ingesting as much as I could, and then dumping the rest of my stash of Parisian Herve Villechaize Fantasy Island Cocktail Sugar in a bin at the Aunt Annie's Soft Pretzel kiosk outside.
Filled with regret for dumping it, after getting waved through the security checkpoint where I was greeted with a "eye-rolling-Phffftt-wave though" when I was beginning to undo the laces of my shoes , I headed straight to the airport's Outback Steakhouse for a Pina-Colada.
Trini greeted me as I sat at the bar and ordered a Pina-Colada. When he asked if I preferred it blended or "The plain, boss, the plain?" I became another person completely. Trini and I debated the moral order in which worldwide coconut usage should be distributed(he was anti-coconut creme which is a main ingredient in Pina-Coladas) that I left without settling the check. He begged me to just give him the tip before I left, but when I refused, he called security.
I didn't remember the picture because I was hiding behind you two, in an attempt to avoid detainment. The picture must've been taken right before I was conked on the head and transported beck to my luxury shipping container en route to Thailand to visit Dr. Kxo (which is pronounced like Dr. Know in english).
Large quantities of rare Parisian Herve Villechaize Fantasy Island Cocktail Sugar. Dr. Kxo-approved luxury-container status. Fed Ex Priority Cargo shipping. Pina Colada-fueled Thailandian days and nights with Dr. Kxo, your handlers and your rabid fans in the remote region. Your star burns bright, Serge Protector. Your creative zenith flashes like a quasar against the backdrop of bawdy island antics and sweaty, humid debauchery under a wicker ceiling fan. I only hope the music you’re making (presumably on PRS guitars) continues to be as inspired as your spirited coconut-crème debates with Trini. While I have never gained audience with the good doctor Kxo, the adventures you relate conjure an image of Kxo that reminds me of the unforgettable King Fausto (played by Herve Villechaize) in The Forbidden Zone, the first movie scored by Danny Elfman. May you always stay a step ahead of The Mystic Knights of Oingo Boingo, Serge Protector!
Great guitar, great thread
There was a gleam....
There was a gleam.... there was a gleeeeeeeeam....
The Raven has laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanded!!!!! My Maaaaaaaan Raven 17 enters the fray! Building The Perfect Beast from The East! We have a long six-string rock history, Wild Man! I remember the sea was angry several years ago when you spied a Tremonti Axe of The Ages at The PRS Experience. Then, as if we were unwitting participants in a slow-moving reality show, Mark Tremonti appeared in the sawdust-laden factory with video entourage in tow, and signed the back of the headie of your new Beast from The East! Now, years later, I sit down to raise my heavy-metal fist to your post. I crank "Metal Will Never Die" the last recording by the late, great Ronnie James Dio, with David "Rock" Feinstein of The Rods, on lead-axe duty. I Fly Metal. Then the emotions of our fateful day in six-string rock history overtake me. I shift gears, to Creed's "With Arms Wide Open," and burst into hard-rock man tears at the hard-rock/heavy-metal memory, which is actually in slow motion. I always get choked up when I remember our timely brush with Tremonti as security shooed everyone out of the dusty, deserted Willie Wonka factory, as we stood strong, and Shouted at The Devil. I don't know if it's the heavy-metal emotions, turbulent like the Chesapeake Bay that day, or the sawdust in the stagnant, stale factory air, or the extreme amount of high-gloss-nitro-cellulose-lacquer inhalation upstairs with Paul Milez and The Noize Boyz earlier that afternoon. Still, the misty, water-colored memory remains. I raise a toast, Raven 17! And I must interject that your Raven forum monicker brings us to the fact, as we celebrate the 30th Anniversary of Paul Reed Smith's epic six-string journey, there is another anniversary at hand, my maaaaaaaaan Raven 17! 'Tis the 170th Anniversary of "The Raven," the epic-and-creepy poem by another legendary eastern-seaboard artist/wild child; the one-and-only Edgar Allen Poe. The New York Evening Mirror first published Poe's legendary poem in 1845. I recall, after several quaffs, Poe's line, which always takes me back to the turbulent spirit of the Chesapeake Bay and our sordid, late-afternoon, six-string Tremonti /Experience encounter: "Get thee back into The Tempest and The Night's Plutonian shore! Quoth The Raven: 'Nevermore!'" I have no idea what it means. Still, the memory, and the song, remains the same (misplaced-Led Zeppelin reference withstanding).
As Poe might say: "Keep it Brutal, Brother Raven 17!"
Hell yeah Brother DFD, we need to make some noise at the 30th anniversary! I still owe you and Gun D a shot if memory serves.
For the record, that once in a lifetime moment and its autographed glory, ( don't forget you brought PRSh to my table to lay his autograph right next to Marks ) has been locked in the Raven Vault safe and sound. Now if you could get me a copy of the video they shot that evening I would name my next child in your honor. How's DFD Palmer sound? :cheers:
Still waiting for that long last COA before I buy another......
Ricardo Montalban is STILL haunted by visions of Tattoo in "rich Corinthian leather".
I respectfully disagree.
I have proof from a close-personal friend that Ricardo was always fond of Herve being dressed in Corinthian leather. He felt it promoted masculinity, and was his second-favoritie piece of "Meninist" propaganda next to the OJ Simpson-for-Dingo Boots-third-leg-marketing strategy.
Dammit. Now I have thoroughly chewed (masticated a minimum of 30x. Safety first. ) high-grade mac-n-cheese on my iPad screen.
I always preferred Eldridge Cleaver's serious attempt at becoming a fashion designer.
Though it must be said that once Eldridge came out with these, his cousin Beaver Cleaver came out with something for women.
Very well-stated, Serge Protector. The Juice, an absolute marketing Godsend for the three-legged Dingo campaign, propelled many of us into a relentless sales orgy of rounded-toe, reddish-colored western-style boots. Still, I find it strange that when it comes to incredibly-courageous pop-culture shifts, I'm once-again the one flying the Michael/Ridgeley Rock-n-Roll Freek Flag. The Wham! duo's edgy 1984 "Choose Life" t-shirt campaign during the "Wake Me Up (Before You Go-Go) video struck a cultural nerve at a fever pitch rivaling Van Halen's 1984. The flamboyant duo's "Wake Me Up" lyrics, "You put the boom-boom into my heart... you send my soul sky-high when your lovin' starts... You put the jitterbug into my brain... it goes bang bang bang until my feet do the same" created a Morrisonlike/Doors revolution at the midpoint of the 80s pantheon of killer, good-time anthems. Who cares if neither Michael nor Ridgeley ever unleashed Jitterbug-style moves? No one! That's who!