Guitarist of megalomaniacal speed seeks audience who won't combust
I'd like to start this off by saying one thing: IF YOU DON'T LIKE GUITAR, IF YOU HAVE A FAMILY HISTORY OF CARDIAC INFIRMITY, OR IF YOU ARE IN ANY WAY OF A WEAK DISPOSITION, HIT THE BACK BUTTON RIGHT AWAY.

But who doesn't like guitar, right? I don't think you understand. Jimi Hendrix played guitar. Groucho Marx played guitar. I think Winston Churchill might have played guitar. What I play is something different.

Picture a Verdi opera: 3 hours of music, some of beautiful and ennobling, at times piquant and subtle, other times dramatic and inspiring. Take those three hours of music, those thousands of musical notes, and compress them into 4 measures of incomprehensible speed, delivered with earth-shaking finesse and a raucous disregard for any physiological limit to human auditory perception. I cannot stress this enough: I will play guitar so fast your face will melt.

The last girlfriend I had was dearer to me than anything that doesn't have steel strings and pickups. It's with a heavy heart that I must confess that she met a tragic demise. I sat her down to perform for her, as she had never heard me play. Within mere seconds of the furious and almost satanically fast deluge of musical notes, she burst into flames and was reduced to a smoldering pile of ash. I have grieved for 7 months, and now it is time to seek a hardier companion.

I seek a woman of no flimsy construction who can tolerate the cyclone of death that my guitar will unleash upon her. Think about the scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark when the Holy Spirit (or whatever the hell that poorly rendered gaseous conglomerate was supposed to be) ravaged the Nazis by melting their flesh from their mortal bones. This is what my guitar playing does, except there is only vapor left, no bones. I cannot stress this enough: I will play guitar so fast the Earth will be rent asunder and armies of hellions will spew forth to wreak havoc upon the human population.

I don't care if you are fat, thin, average, need attention, busty, or even whether you genetically qualify as a human being. All that I care about, the single thing that will hold my attention, is a woman who can listen to my terror-inspiring, WMD-unleashing, virgin-defiling, hell-bent-on-misanthropic-destruction tornado of picking and whammy bar stunts without dying immediately.

If you think you can witness the senseless and brutalizing destruction that is my guitar playing without being maimed, incinerated, mutilated, lacerated, or dismembered in any way, please send me an email and I will arrange a meeting.

Postscript: I think I'll have to have you sign documentation of release before we meet, however, as I am a wanted man in 48 states for assaulting an officer via sweep picking, and my guitar playing has been banned in Norway for causing several churches to burn to the ground. And yeah, I've never been to Norway.