It’s here, it’s here, it’s here, it’s here, it’s here.
I have a little game I like to play. It’s called “Can I get Cookie Shitlips to ban me with just one post”.
I have been playing this game for some time, and as with any great endeavor, I seem to go in streaks. Right now, I am on a fucking tear. Over the weekend I got booted out of her channel 3 times on as many posts. In this game, that is counted as a Flawless Victory.
A year or so ago, Yetta was obviously on some sort of mood management medication, or maybe it was just some hog tranquilizers, because I could not BUY a boot out of her channel on VL. I was, needless to say, quite depressed. I stood in front of a mirror and berated myself for a lack of skill, talent and imagination. Happily for me, after awhile her meds ran out and she was back to being the irritable termagant with the eggshell ego that we all know and despise.
She is apparently back in a manic phase right now, so I would encourage both readers of this fabulous blog to pay a visit to her channel on CrAm’s website and rattle her cage. Just take a few moments to listen to whatever she is droning on about, then flatly contradict her (bonus points for using “tripcode” in your post) and see if you too can piss her off badly enough to pop you after 1 post.
I just adore this sort of thing.
Well, yet another of my brother’s offspring is turning us into a Mixed family.
After multiple generations of soldiers on my father’s side of the family tree, my younger brother’s oldest son went off and joined the Marine Corps. I was able to take that in stride, because they do have some damn fine looking dress uniforms (not to mention Daniel had been dead set on joining the USMC since he was around 14 years old and never made a secret of it).
Now, Daniel’s youngest brother is doing something that leaves me aghast, bewildered, shocked, bamboozled, slick-jawed, dazed and in all other ways totally corn-fused. He is going to the University of Tennessee.
Now you just have to understand something here. All of us, every last one of us, went to NCSU. My brother, my wife, my kids, hell, I suspect my dog went to State. When you cut one of us, we bleed Wolfpack Red. And now, this young scallywag is going to Tennessee??
They say change is good. In any event, of course I wish him the very best. He is going to UT for a degree in aerospace engineering with an eye on USMC aviation when he gets out. True story: when he was but a wee lad, he was taken to Parris Island to attend his brother’s graduation from basic. Watching the recruit companies on the parade ground made quite the impression on him and he loudly announced that when he grew up, he was going to be a Marine. His mother looked down at him and said “Over my dead body.” I looked right at my brother and said “well, I guess he’s gonna be a Marine”.
Moms, NEVER tell your boys that can’t do something.
Yes, at last, police officers in Kansas are now legally prohibited from… well, let me just link to this:
From the article: The new law bans sexual relations “during the course of a traffic stop, a custodial interrogation, an interview in connection with an investigation, or while the law enforcement officer has such person detained.”
I know that I now feel much safer in the knowledge that I can travel to Kansas and not find myself handcuffed to a stair railing in some poorly lit back alley, my pants around my ankles while a demented civil servant gets his freak on using his night stick, a can of mace, and my booty. Well, at least not legally, although what that guy does on his off hours is totally up to him.
Yeah. Teachers ought not to screw their students, cops shouldn’t dork people they have arrested, judges shouldn’t “go into chambers” with people on trial, etc., etc. It’s poor form to rely on your job to get laid – unless you’re Fred Garvin.
Well, things are not lookin’ too good over on Camup.TV, where you are about to pay to play.
Starting in June, you gotta come off the hip to the tune of $30 a year if you want anything over and above a stream key. This is a pretty big change for CamUp, and I have to wonder if this change was influenced by the sudden influx of
rats broadcasters leaving that shithole site based in Tennessee. This idea of charging people may be backfiring, as I have noticed some channels that were there are suddenly going missing… almost as if they have decided that if they have to pay, they need a site that actually works (more about that shortly).
Live internet broadcasters generally do this shit for fun, until they get on Youtube or Twitch and either have big ol’ titties or content so compelling that they begin to make real money from their broadcasts. On Camup, Ivlog, YawnLive, etc., it’s purely amateur hour. NO ONE is making a dime off their shows, so having to pay to broadcast doesn’t make much sense, unless you really like the site and feel like helping them out with beer money and such. Charging broadcasters, the people that actually provide the content of your website, generally encourages them to do one thing: migrate. They load up the wagon and move to greener (cheaper) pastures and then site owners sit around, scratching their hefty posteriors and wonder where all that traffic went.
Now getting back to CamUp, one of the things you will be paying for (assuming you care to stay & pay) are the guest cams. If you have been to CamUp, you already know where this is going. The guest cams on CamUp are so incredibly flaky, so twitchy, so unpredictable, so unreliable, so frustrating, that Dixie is in for some very unpleasant times when people who have paid money for the feature find that said feature simply does not work …. 80% of the time? 90%? Seriously. I used to do regular shows over there until I grew weary of the inability of the administrator to correct issues, acknowledge issues, own up to mistakes, etc. It was, in point of fact, way too much like dealing with Mark Vaughn. The guest cams were the source of almost all of my in-show complaints.
Dixie’s idea of fixing any issue is to tell you to clear your cache. Apparently, every CamUp user’s cache is infested by demons/aliens who are causing shit not to work and you need to clear that damn cache out, then everything will be fine. This is a theory on my part, but I suspect that telling paying customers to clear their cache is gonna go over like a big ol’ green turd in a pickle jar.
Dixie, when your site was free and people supported you (like I did) because they wanted to, if your shit didn’t work, well, the site was free and we were getting what we paid for. You are fixing to start taking people’s money very soon, and you had best up your game, or you are gonna be returning that money hand over fist.
WHAT IF… Twiggy had been born in Ireland as a male.
Well, this one is easy. Twiggy as a male would be that parasite widely known as Ireland’s Patriot. Yes, the human stick figure with the incredible hydrocephalic noggin and the somewhat over-exaggerated opinion of himself (and by “somewhat”, I mean “infinitely”) is obviously the male Irish Twiggy. The resemblance is nothing short of remarkable.
Ireland’s Pissant has been hanging out in the live chat on the UKMuppets carrying on deep and meaningful conversations with himself, as is his wont. He vomited up these pearls just a short time ago:
I have no idea who “Junior” is, but seriously, NO ONE on the planet is going to walk the other way when they see the scrawny apparition that is Ireland’s Patriot. The Pissant rambles on about old people and how they all hate him (pssssst, shit head, everyone hates you. That club is open to all applicants. No age restrictions apply) and they are all anons and old and also they are old. It seems blimp-head has a thing about age. I think he hates his mother and this is his way of expressing it.
Remember this one? Mommy makes IP cry, cry like a wee lass, as they say in the Land of Lucky Charms.
When called out about her doxing on the JTV chatango shoutbox, first she lied, then she gave excuses, then she asked the peanut gallery if they wanted my IP address.
What a fucking asshole.
The porcine New Zealander denied breaking the only rule of McGregor’s shoutbox. When confronted with a screencap of her guilt, she then argued that what she did was alright because it had been done on battlecam and facebook already. When it was pointed out to her that what was posted elsewhere had no bearing on what she posted in the shoutbox, she then said it was alright because it was someone’s arrest record.
When I refused to roll over and demanded that she remove herself from the chatbox, she then offered up my IP address to the assembled anons, thereby demonstrating a continued willingness to keep on doxing.
Slaya, you are an unmitigated, dyed-in-the-wool, pure ASSHOLE. You are a liar, a hypocrite, you are a wannabe Scruffy, abusing your moderator status in McGregor’s chatbox.
Rest assured, if the opportunity ever comes my way for payback, it will be delivered with interest.
Animal Farm was required reading in the sixth grade, and there is a very famous line in the final chapter: ALL ANIMALS ARE EQUAL. BUT SOME ANIMALS ARE MORE EQUAL THAN OTHERS.
In yet another example of how life imitates art, a moderator on the JTV Shoutbox broke the one and only rule of the JTV Shoutbox, and is going to get away with it.
I have no doubt she will find it in her heart to forgive herself.
First, Scruffy announced her imminent departure (and there was much rejoicing):
Now it would appear that whatever Scruffy has (Hashbrown Syndrome or Australian Crotch Rot or some other exotic disorder) has been contracted by her progeny, the obese coder himself, GoutBoy.
Yes, GoutBoy is in “horrific fucking pain”, which is one level above “ouchy booboo pain”. In point of fact, GoutBoy says that he feels like “someone is shoving a railroad spike into my ear”. I suspect there is no shortage of volunteers for the position of Railroad Spike Shover. I’m not doing anything this weekend, so if those parties currently doing the railroad spike shoving need a break, please let me know in the comment section and I shall be on the way in short order.
Bon Voyage, GoutBoy. The road to hell is paved in railroad spikes.
Survival of the fittest.
Seen in the jtv chatroom: “Thanks to Scruffy, Ivlog is now a decent site.”
Obviously, the word “decent” is open to interpretation, but if, as I suspect, the commenter was referring to the number of active channels that can be viewed on Ivlog, then yeah.
Just as VL owed it’s success to JTV and BlogTV shutting down in rapid succession, Ivlog and even Camup.tv are experiencing growth due to the repeated self-inflicted injuries that VL absolutely excels at. Between the hapless befuddlement of Goutboy and the malignant psychosis of his mommy (who is STILL NOT DEAD), people have simply stopped frequenting The Biggest Steaming Pile of Horseshit on the Internet. The live content creators have caught on to the phony viewer counts that Goutboy had to implement when Psycho Momma won her campaign to cut off guest chat, so they are looking for greener internet pastures and are taking their audiences with them.
In effect, VL is shutting down it’s People Section and will rely solely on the TV rerun/old film streamers in the miscellaneous section. The page views generated there will likely keep Goutboy in Skittles and Grape Drink, but the active social caster scene has already sailed to Twitch, Youtube, Ivlog and Camup. Hell, even Stream.me is doing better than VL. So much for Goutboy’s speech about “I believe the future of the internet is in social broadcasting”.
VL failed solely because of Patricia Lynn Vaughn and her desperate need to control, control, control.
The fit go on, the unfit become part of the fossil record.
74 to 54.
UVa is gonna fire their head coach.
UMBC’s head coach is a RED HOT commodity as of about an hour ago.
There have been some close calls before, but never (never ever ever never ever) has a number 16 seed knocked off a number 1. Ever. A few 15/2 matchups have gone to the 15, so any statistician could promise you that one day, somewhere, a 16 was gonna bounce a 1, but. UVa wasn’t just a 1 seed, they were THE 1 SEED. Number Uno in the whole nation, the cream of the crop, the best team from sea to shining sea… and they got PULVERIZED by a team that 99% of the country had never heard of in front of God and everybody on National Television.
20 points. They lost by 20 fucking points. That, friends and neighbors is a B L O W O U T.
Also, RIP every bracket in the universe.
So I am sitting in a friend’s channel on Tuesday night and at 9:00PM eastern time *blip*… the entire site is gone. Nothing works, nothing will load, the only thing anyone gets is INVALID CERTIFICATE errors.
It seems that someone forgot to do a little bit of housekeeping. The FIRST story given on the community chat feature was “the SSL certificate was supposed to expire tomorrow night” but apparently someone(s) got the dates a little bit wrong.
Later, we got this version of events:
So this guy has his very own day. Go figure. I will hypothesize that it must have been easier to get one’s own day back when Rudy was a playa.
In other news…
Scruffy still isn’t dead.
Well, that’s it for February, 2018.
Once again, I have been contacted by a friend who is on the inept IVLOG.TV website regarding a particular broadcaster’s usage of the revolvermaps IP tracking widget.
First, let me give you some background. Revolvermaps is a “service” that not only tracks site/channel visitors, it also uses this tracking widget to place a unique id on your browser in order to track it EVERYWHERE, thereby building a profile on every individual who is tracked in order to sell their browsing habits and history to advertisers and …. Well, who knows what else they do with it. In any event, the potential for abuse is virtually unlimited (It is worth mentioning that revolvermaps is far from the only company doing this; the big players are facebook and google and why you people use that shit, I will never understand).
Getting back to the subject of this post, some asshat showed that mentally unstable harridan from New York City, the vile and execrable Cookie Shitlips (aka Yetta Telebenda), what revolvermaps is and how to install it. Cookie, being the unwise cretin that she is, added it to her channel and now likes to greet guests as they enter her chat by calling out the guest’s ID number and telling the viewers in her channel where they are from. I have some points I want to make right away.
- The accuracy of revolvermaps is variable. Sometimes it is very good, other times it is significantly incorrect. The accuracy is dependent on numerous variables and is beyond the scope of this article.
- Obviously, a proxy IP will utterly defeat the utility of revolvermaps.
- Anyone with a scintilla of sense, an iota of intelligence, a single functioning brain cell would keep this information to themselves and not tip their hand. In Cookie’s case, her mental illness overrides all other considerations and she simply cannot help but show off for her audience as she pretends to omniscience. Cookie is and always will be her own worse enemy.
Revolvermaps will always be a threat on Ivlog.tv, as paranoia is part of that site’s DNA. Steven Jones and his asshole buddies who started the site have always been very concerned with WHO YOU ARE when you enter their individual channels. This was true in the days of BlogTV, it is still true now. Interestingly enough, that sewer known as Vaughnlive does not allow for IP trackers at all – at least on the part of their broadcasters. No sir, the only people who can see IPs on Vaughnlive are the people that run the site (this may be the perfect definition of “cold comfort”).
Stopping revolvermaps is literally child’s play. I will assume you already have Adblock Plus or Adblock Latitude installed as a browser add-on. If you don’t, then what the fuck is wrong with you? Get with the program, skippy. Simply click on the drop down menu arrow of Adblock and click on “Filter Preferences”
Now click on the “Add Filter” Button.
When the Filter Rule opens a blank box, type in /.revolvermaps.com/
You can then close Adblocker. Test your addition of this new rule by going to the revolvermaps website. If you were successful, you will not see any of their widgets being displayed. This means they cannot load in your browser, or in technical terms, they be shit outta luck.
You will now be able to enter that vile old woman’s channel and loudly demand that she tell one and all where you are from. She will make a few faces and then ban you, because she does not do frustration gracefully. With any luck, you may induce a cerebral event.
Party on, Wayne.
(Credit for screen cap and original story to UKMuppets)
“Ahhhhhhhhhhh!!! You cursed brat! Oh what a world, what a world. Who could have thought that some little girl like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness.”
A very dramatic scene it was, our young heroine from Kansas dousing the evil wicked witch with a handy bucket of water and removing her from the Land of Oz. I leave it to the reader to ponder the wisdom of the witch, leaving buckets of water scattered around where any young wench could wield them in so devastating a fashion.
In a similar dramatic vein, the Actual Owner of The Biggest Steaming Pile of Horseshit on the Internet has seen fit to announce her imminent departure from her very own Land of Oz. Let me just go right on ahead and toss my opinion of her post in the chat right here: it’s BULLSHIT. Everything this woman has ever done or ever said on that crap website of hers has been a lie. I see no reason to view this any differently.
The Queen of Mercury had her employee (Goutboy, the world’s greatest coding genius) turn off guest chat, thereby lowering the number of viewers that would parade through her channels (and they are HER channels, every last goddamned one of them) seeking to curry favor with her, kow-towing, kissing her cellulite mottled ass cheeks and generally demonstrating their spinelessness. So what does a drama queen do when the audience begins to get thin? The drama queen goes over the top.
“I am dying”
From a philosophical and linguistic vantage point, everything begins to die from the moment of its creation, but I will bet my last pair of socks that is not what this vile and loathsome woman is trying to make people think. This is a ploy, a stunt, another in a very long line of scams being run out by a self-confessed troll who is looking to shock and then elicit sympathy from the pathetic imbeciles that still use that pig sty of a web site.
“I am dying”
No where near fast enough.
So apparently the one true sewer of social broadcasting has disappeared from the internet and conflicting stories are flying fast and furious.
Battlecam simply is “not” right now. No pages will load, no word on their fakebook or twitter sites as to their status, nothing but rumors and a bunch of assholes on Tinychat all trying to talk over one another. Finding out any factual information right now is an almost Herculean task, but I will share with you what I have HEARD, making it very clear that this is all unsubstantiated noise from various corners of the internet.
Rumor One: Battlecam is done. It’s gone the way of Yahoo Live, BlogTV, JTV, etc. If this rumor does turn out to be true, then some exceptionally nasty internet psychos will be looking around for a new site to spew their seemingly limitless supply of bile at anyone who stumbles across them. Whether you loved Battlecam or hated it, it did serve the function of zookeeper for some very wild animals.
Rumor Two: Battlecam is undergoing a total renovation. The software is being totally re-written to be HTML5 compliant, and the BC ownership is contracting with a new company for improved server support. In other words, Battlecam 2.0 will be rolling out and it will run better than ever due to upgrades to all facets of its construction. I liken this to brand new federally funded housing projects: “Look Martha, brand new slums! Aren’t they nice?”
Rumor Three: Battlecam is down, Goutboy is offering Hairy Ballsack (or however he spells his name) a position on Possibly The Biggest Steaming Pile Of Horseshit On The Internet a position as an administrator. This one is just laugh-out-loud funny. Mommy will never allow anyone she isn’t breast feeding to have any sort of authority on her website.
So in summary, this is what I DON’T know. Time will tell.
A certain web site that recently disabled guest chat is getting some feedback.
Several broadcasters have simply disappeared from the site, which leads me to think they have voted with their feet and moved on to other websites. All I can say to them is WHAT THE FUCK TOOK YOU SO LONG? Oh well, better late than never.
Certain other broadcasters are continuing to brown nose Goutboy and his mercury exuding mother. Most of their postings concerning the removal of guest chat consist of a variation on a single theme: “Thank you so very much, Goutboy, for cutting off guest chat so I no longer have to deal with all those awful trolls.” This is great except for one small, tiny, miniscule problem. The ability to cut off guest chat was ALWAYS there. Every single broadcaster has always been able to simply cut it off.
So this means that either the brown nosers are so fucking stupid they were unaware of the chat control options they had available to them (very doubtful) or they are lying through their unbrushed, nicotine stained teeth. It is entirely possible that in a couple of cases, they are doing both (lookin’ at a retard from the PNW).
There is a third possibility that cannot be entirely discounted. Goutboy and his mother, the Queen of Mercury, are both serial sock-puppeteers. I would be totally unsurprised to find out all of the alleged positive feedback is coming from Columbia, Tennessee. It’s exactly the sort of thing they would do.
I would like to parse Goutboy’s post on his blog regarding the end of guest chat on his mother’s website, the one he advertises as being “Possibly the Biggest Steaming Pile of Horseshit on the Internet”.
Sentence five: And many new broadcasters would be pushed by viewers to enable guest chat simply so folks could hatefully troll them. Here we have another lie to close out the first paragraph. “New broadcasters”… From what I have seen, unicorns are more plentiful than “new broadcasters” on that site. Goutboy, you and your mommy have killed your site. No one uses it due to your mother’s contagious level of mercury poisoning. Let me pose a scenario to you, oh reader. Exactly who is pushing these new broadcasters to open guest chat if guest chat is off? It must be registered users, because they are the only people who can post. Is it possible that these registered users are acting as agents-provocateur for a certain vile, overbearing woman who has an agenda regarding guest chat? Ponder that while I shake my head at Goutboy’s absurd assertion that a broadcaster is going to enable guest chat so they can be “hatefully trolled”. Yep, that’s what he says. Read it for yourself. At this point, one has to wonder if Goutboy sincerely believes his user base is so stupid to swallow this immense load of crap? Does Goutboy actually think that these “new users” are turning on guest chat so people can call them names and tell them to put a shoe on their head?
Being a staunch traditionalist, I shall begin my tale in that most time-honored fashion…
Once upon a time, in the sleepy little County of *****, there lived a cranky old buzzard with a new truck.
One night, his truck sent him an email. Trucks can do that now. We must be living in the 21st century.
The email said “my rear tires are quite low in pressure, do something!”. Now these tires were not just filled with any old run-of-the-mill air. No sir. These tires had special air, which went by the name of Nitrogen. Nitrogen was quite proud of being nitrogen, and didn’t much care when common folk mentioned that regular old run-of-the-mill air was 78% nitrogen to begin with. This nitrogen liked to remind people that it was pure, unadulterated nitrogen, and that messy old oxygen was neither needed nor wanted.
So anyway, Mr Old Buzzard shook his head at the idea of a truck emailing him, and the following morning he rose out of bed, threw on his go-to-town clothes and went to get some nitrogen for his poor tires. Imagine Mr Old Buzzard’s surprise when the first tire service business he stopped at responded with “What? Niter Gen? Is that a Japanese tire? We don’t carry them, but maybe I can order some.” Mr Old Buzzard thanked them and then drove to another tire business. The response was different but not exactly better. They didn’t have nitrogen either, but they knew about how a lot of new vehicles were coming with nitrogen filled tires, but they were…. unconvinced of the benefits of this highfalutin’ special air and offered to top Mr Old Buzzard off with regular old run-of-the-mill air, but Mr Old Buzzard had read somewhere on the internets that it was best practice not to add regular old run-of-the-mill air to a tire full of nitrogen because REASONS.
So Mr Old Buzzard drove to the local GMC Honda dealership, which just happened to be owned by the brother of the man that Mr Old Buzzard had bought his truck from. Mr Old Buzzard walked into the service department, removed his hat and asked the young lady at the service desk (lady at the service desk? We MUST be living in the 21st century) if they could fill up a low tire with nitrogen. She smiled and said they had no nitrogen and before she could continue, an old service geezer from across the way cackled “Nitrogen? Ha! Some dealers are putting that stuff in new tires, and they will be happy to fill them up for you. Be sure you have your wallet when you go.” Mr Old Buzzard turned to old service geezer and said “Yes, they do”. Mr Old Buzzard pointed at his truck that was parked out front and continued “That truck right there has nitrogen in the tires, and it came from the brother of the fellow that owns this place”.
Old service geezer suddenly got very busy at his desk while loudly stating for all to hear “Different business all together, they got nothing to do with us!”. Mr Old Buzzard watched old service geezer for a few moments to see if he had anything else to add, then turned back to the young lady at the service desk. “Do you know of anyone in ***** County that would have nitrogen available to pump up a low tire?”, he asked. The young lady at the service desk named both tire stores that Mr Old Buzzard had already visited, so Mr Old Buzzard thanked the young lady at the service desk for her time. She did tell Mr Old Buzzard that regular old run-of-the-mill air could be used to fill the tires up. Mr Old Buzzard thanked the young lady at the service desk again and walked out to his truck.
Mr Old Buzzard really did not want to drive to the next village over to pump up a tire, but at this point he figured maybe a phone call to the place he had bought the truck from was in order. So Mr Old Buzzard pulled into a large convenience store/gas station parking lot and told his truck to call *** Chevrolet (wait a minute… you can tell a truck to make a phone call?!?) and he ended up talking to Heather in the service department (woman in the service depart…, ah, you’ve heard this before). Mr Old Buzzard asked Heather if she knew of any place in ***** County that could fill up a low tire with nitrogen. Heather did not know of any place in ***** County that could do that. Mr Old Buzzard then asked Heather if *** Chevrolet had nitrogen (here comes the good part of the story, so pay attention) and Heather said “Yes, we have it, it’s $20 per tire to fill.”
There was a long silence wherein Mr Old Buzzard had many thoughts, none of which shall be discussed here. Twenty dollars. Per tire.
Mr Old Buzzard finally told Heather he thought that was just a bit out of line, he wasn’t holding Heather responsible for that bit of (here, the reader may choose between words such as “robbery”, “larceny”, “greed”, “scam”, etc) customer service policy, but Mr Old Buzzard did add that he sure did wish he had known about the Nitrogen Charge and its total lack of availability ANYWHERE other than *** Chevrolet. From Heather’s quiet response that one could use regular old run-of-the-mill air to inflate the tire, Mr Old Buzzard formed an idea that possibly Heather may well have had this conversation before.
So Mr Old Buzzard thanked Heather for her time and ended the call. He saw a coin operated regular old run-of-the-mill air machine in the same parking lot he was already in, so he drove over to it and got out of his truck. A hand-lettered sign was taped to the face of the regular old run-of-the-mill air machine. It stated that the people that worked inside the convenience store had no connection with, no responsibility for, or anything else under the sun to do with the regular old run-of-the-mill air machine. If it didn’t work at all, if it worked wrong, if it made your crops wither and die, you needed to call the 800 number on the machine, all sales final, no refunds. It also said $1.50 in quarters, do not run over hose.
Mr Old Buzzard drove right down to the local Ace Hardware and bought an air compressor, which will be fully paid for the 5th time he puts air into one of those tires.
Now look here. I have ASKED for help and exactly none of you people have intervened in any way, shape or form. No one has hidden my wallet, no one has cut up my credit cards, no one has even sent me a strongly worded telegram. Hell, one of you (and I won’t mention any names, but her initials are Cocoa Black) even told me to get whatever I wanted.
So there’s this guy I ran across about a year ago, his name is John Backlund and he is an industrial designer with a taste for retro and the Jetsons. You can already tell I’m fucked, can’t you? John has designed a number of guitars which are figuratively “out-of-this-world”. They are very colorful, visually distinctive and look exactly like what George Jetson, his wife Jane, daughter Judy and his boy Elroy would play, assuming the Jetsons did a Partridge Family act and played gigs at Spacely Sprockets.
One of John’s designs really caught my attention; it was his “Marz 6” guitar. I knew it existed because it was in his family photo of the design prototypes he owns.
The Marz 6 is that golden beauty that is the 2nd from left upright guitar on the sofa. I contacted Mr Buckland and told him of my interest in his guitar and he responded very promptly, but not with any good news. He explained that the Marz 6 in the picture had been built for him by a Dutch luthier and it was the only existing Marz 6 in the galaxy. To say that I was disappointed would be an understatement, but I thanked Mr Backlund for his time and told him I would be interested in purchasing one should he ever sell the design to a manufacturer. You know what’s coming next.
On December 20th, John announced that Eastwood Guitars would be manufacturing a few of his designs. The Marz 6 was not listed among them on the Eastwood site, but John had posted on a guitar forum that the Marz 6 was going to be produced. I sent Eastwood a query on the subject and applied some serious search-fu and lo, a true Christmas Miracle occurred. The Marz 6 has a separate pre-order page not linked to the rest of John’s guitars, Eastwood is accepting deposits for Marz 6’s in various colors and for a mere two hunnit dollah you can nail down the color of your choice with anticipated delivery in April of 2018. TAKE MY MONEY NOW!
I advised John I had mine on order and he thanked me and advised… well, his exacts words were “Thank you! You’ll be getting what will probably always be quite a rare guitar. Of course, I would like to be wrong about this, but I would be surprised if more than fifty to seventy-five Marz 6 guitars will ever be built.”
So dear reader(s), thanks for nothing in helping me to stop buying guitars. Not that anything short of shooting me in the noggin would have stopped me from getting this one. The badass is just WAY too strong to resist.