Recently, some type of Divine Presence has seen fit to award me with guitars that, quite frankly, I don’t deserve.  This particular guitar had me so enthralled, I began to feel like less of a man when I wasn’t playing it.  My fingers could not stop running up and down the fretboard, my right hand just felt so at home on the bridge, carrying it felt like I was carrying my own child.  It’s an Ibanez SCA-220 (I think); it says S-Classic on the headstock.  It is up there in the “best guitars I’ve ever played department”. 

But then, a short time later, I felt as if I had drawn Excalibur from Stone per the next picture… 

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