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I'm sure you've figured out by now that I am crazier than a Mad Hatter.
I'll get to why in a sec, but first, let's talk about 'Mad Hatters' in history and why 'Mad Hatter' was a thing and not merely a fictional character:
People who made felt for hats (they made felt from fur for good hats) used mercury nitrate in making the felt. Mercury nitrate created a toxic vapor they breathed all day, and that gave them mercury poisoning. Mercury poisoning causes mental and neurological disorders. They probably didn't know that in the 19th Century. They just thought making hats made hatters go crazy.
I've never made a hat or had mercury poisoning. So I have no excuse. I now return you to my post:
"Y'see, Dr. Freud, it all started when I got the Mark VII. The more I got to know the amp, the more things I found out it can do, and the more I liked those things. One of the things it does...well, I'll just come out and say it: I can make the Mark VII sound like my beloved Lone Star 100 clean, and I like the Mark's lead stuff more. But I can't seem to be able to make myself...purge...the Lone Star. I also think The Mark is 'more me' than my much-loved Fillmore. I can't force myself to...uh...flush that one, either, even though I get the urge to purge right after I have my morning coffee."
"Why are you using the Ouija Board to contact me? I'm not a GAStroenterologist. If you can't purge, just make an appointment with one of them, and they'll give you some MetAMPmucil."
"What you're telling me REVERBerates strongly in my superego, but my id still balks at the idea of letting these amps...go. I can't do it. I'd have to...force...the issue. And then I'd get VALVEroids."
"Your other puns were far more clever than 'VALVEroids'. Maybe that's what you need help with."
"How about this then: I'd get Polamps."
"Not funny either."
"It's a play on an NOS tube called the Polamp and the word polyp."
"Too esoteric. Just keep the friggin' amps."
"But then I'll have paralysis by analysis."
"As a psychoanalyst I resemble that remark, but I'm not paralyzed at all. Go build a pedalboard or something."
"I no longer need my dirt pedals, either."
"You know I love hearing about the dirty stuff, but I'm sorry, that's all the time we have today. I have an appointment to be fitted for a new hat."
"Thanks doc. What do I owe you?"
"Nothing, I'm dead. Money has no value here. Tell me about your mother next time."
I'll get to why in a sec, but first, let's talk about 'Mad Hatters' in history and why 'Mad Hatter' was a thing and not merely a fictional character:
People who made felt for hats (they made felt from fur for good hats) used mercury nitrate in making the felt. Mercury nitrate created a toxic vapor they breathed all day, and that gave them mercury poisoning. Mercury poisoning causes mental and neurological disorders. They probably didn't know that in the 19th Century. They just thought making hats made hatters go crazy.
I've never made a hat or had mercury poisoning. So I have no excuse. I now return you to my post:
"Y'see, Dr. Freud, it all started when I got the Mark VII. The more I got to know the amp, the more things I found out it can do, and the more I liked those things. One of the things it does...well, I'll just come out and say it: I can make the Mark VII sound like my beloved Lone Star 100 clean, and I like the Mark's lead stuff more. But I can't seem to be able to make myself...purge...the Lone Star. I also think The Mark is 'more me' than my much-loved Fillmore. I can't force myself to...uh...flush that one, either, even though I get the urge to purge right after I have my morning coffee."
"Why are you using the Ouija Board to contact me? I'm not a GAStroenterologist. If you can't purge, just make an appointment with one of them, and they'll give you some MetAMPmucil."
"What you're telling me REVERBerates strongly in my superego, but my id still balks at the idea of letting these amps...go. I can't do it. I'd have to...force...the issue. And then I'd get VALVEroids."
"Your other puns were far more clever than 'VALVEroids'. Maybe that's what you need help with."
"How about this then: I'd get Polamps."
"Not funny either."
"It's a play on an NOS tube called the Polamp and the word polyp."
"Too esoteric. Just keep the friggin' amps."
"But then I'll have paralysis by analysis."
"As a psychoanalyst I resemble that remark, but I'm not paralyzed at all. Go build a pedalboard or something."
"I no longer need my dirt pedals, either."
"You know I love hearing about the dirty stuff, but I'm sorry, that's all the time we have today. I have an appointment to be fitted for a new hat."
"Thanks doc. What do I owe you?"
"Nothing, I'm dead. Money has no value here. Tell me about your mother next time."
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did laugh though.
at least me. but you should as well.
