So about 20 years ago I was in a local music store in San Jose doing my best Jaco on a fretless jazz at a polite volume (no doubt keeping the store staff entertained) and this shirtless punk rocker looking guy with a spiked collar and leather pants plugs in a Sting Ray about 15 feet away, cranks the amp, and goes comando wackity popity. No stage fright on his part whatsoever. He looks annoyed at my existance. Annoyed myself, guitar salesman told my then jazz snob self he palyed in a local band called Red Hot Chili Peppers. Oh well...