I often dream about my TB friends, that we roam forth in a giant green meadow with rows of 810s and all our favorite amp heads. Basses abound, from the small to the mighty, in every color, 4 strings to 12. The Earth rumbles gently beneath our feet. We romp & play, making low end jokes under a red glowing sun.
Then we were invaded by a slovenly guitard, whose wailing disturbed our peaceful slumber. We marched forth, armed with our favorite gear, to destroy the unwanted and he too became a brother of the low end. And we all led perfect lives with nightly gigs of the highest pay!
Then we were invaded by a slovenly guitard, whose wailing disturbed our peaceful slumber. We marched forth, armed with our favorite gear, to destroy the unwanted and he too became a brother of the low end. And we all led perfect lives with nightly gigs of the highest pay!
