Subject: RE: Washtub Bass: What kind of string & why?
From:
GUEST,Harry Tubman
Date: 30 Jan 21 - 04:23 AM
Harry Tubman you ass! It's you from the future. After your girlfriend stole tubby and drowned it in the river at the very music festival you preen yourself at. good news! you mop up the tub bass competition at carp camp. they all bow to you and say "we're not worthy!" bad news, that's the last time you play it. strong is your ability to get a new one eh? prepare to mope around like a shlub for 2 years depressed while all your friends fall off. but if it falls off you didn't need it RIGHT NERD?? YOURE SCREWED AND YOU DONT EVEN KNOW IT YET.
I went through your pictures tonight and you took more photos of tubby than of your girlfriend, who was always jealous of the pedestal you put that bass on. I mean, you're writing your special book about it instead of her. dude you even played her like a tub bass in your sleep. it's so obvious in the pictures and you couldn't even tell in real life. oh you're so good at paying attention huh? lol she wanted to drown that thing from day one.
And what's with you thinking you know a damn? you're always like "oh there's no wrong way to play the tub bass" and now I see you on these forums telling everybody there's "a way"? christ! I can't take you anywhere. good news, you keep getting smarter. bad news, you're an idiot.
man you didn't even look that hard. you had all these dreams where you're reunited with your precious bass and you wake up every time like "$H%#!". to be fair, as soon as she admitted it and told you where she drowned it, you do go back looking for it with your best friend and a box of mamas cookies (and in the night someone even stole mamas cookies can you believe it? but you also left them out and it could have been racoons. in the morning you two were like, "did you wake up in the night and eat all the cookies?" "no, I thought you did") another bass player, sympathetic to your mission, loans you his canoe so you can a-paddlin down the river, pokin sticks into the water like you're looking for a dead body. you even bring a snorkel but it's too muddy. it could have been inches from your fingertips and you'll never know. it could have been just around the next corner. if you had just looked a liiiiittle bit further or put up one more flyer or talked to one more person, maybe you two would still be together and you'd have the craziest musical instrument story of all time and you two could grow old together like willie nelson and trigger. like BB king saving lucille from a burning building. you'll think about this for the rest of your life.
if you'd just play a stupid wooden instrument like everyone else then when your jealous ex lover drowns it in the river you'd at least know it was dead and wouldn't have to go the rest of your life wondering if it's too late to buy scuba gear.
good news, you are still writing your book. bad news, you are still writing your book. you're all confidently telling everyone how to play the bass... give me a break. here's a tip, try to keep it out of the river, noob. lol you're like a bird in a cage screwing its bell.
good news, you didn't marry her. (the girl, that is.) bad news, actually there is no bad news. you have your health, a little worse teeth, your hair looks GREAT, you could maybe even be considered attractive in the right light, when you're in good shape and you're excited about something and when the other person is on drugs. you're much wiser than you were before. the kids look up to you, you lead the family in song on each christmas (congrats), you eventually get over your depression even though you practically see tubby every time you close your eyes. you proooobably didn't need a hit of lsd as soon as you realized it was gone. that was a horrible idea. lol. you're all curled up in your tent with a blanket over your head having the worst trip of your life and it's winfield so you hear all these tub basses all over the place and they all sound like tubby. oh man, you were wandering around the place like a boy looking for his lost dog. that's what people said. you really love(d) that broken fiberglass bass more than anything. which is not pathetic at all dude, you two kick(ed) ass together unlike a lot of human couples.
one time, I don't think you've done it yet, (spoiler alert) you go floating down the river on tubby like a boat, paddling with the stick and string having a gay ole time. and tubbys taking on water, you know, so you get on back to shore, lift this fiberglass bass body with 4 winfield stickers on it up above your head and all this water pours out the f holes like a cartoon and you two slog up the muddy river banks and back into the festival grounds lookin like swamp thing, wide eyed and lucid as the day you were born and the first person you see is this real clean cut guy with his rv and rug and awning, and his grill and apron with some dumb saying on it and his flawless martin guitar that he probably rubs with a diaper sittin there on it's own little stand and you lock eyes and his mouth hangs open and you two just stand there starin at each other like two different species in the jungle encountering each other for the first time. you head back to camp feeling like you have discovered something very important.
so anyway, good luck and try not to kill yourself.
love,
-future you
ps: now would be a good time to invest in bitcoin
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sj
