Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Red And White

bobby pink guitar

At last it can be told: Bobby didn’t want to play a pink guitar. No one wants a pink guitar. During Courtney Love’s most ridiculous girly phase, she didn’t play a pink guitar. They’re not like cars, in that a pink Cadillac says you stopped giving a shit at the same time you became a crazy millionaire. There’s a silly history to be written on the enduring what-the-fuckness that is the pink car.

Not guitars: any movement away from the basic red/black/wood grain basics is universally reviled because, at their heart, guitarists are more conservative thanĀ someone trying to bang Ann Coulter. Even during the 80’s, when anything could be any color as long as that color didn’t occur in nature, guitars were never pink. White, flaming red, Slash played a yellow BC Rich a little: no pink.

Pink, of course, is more than a color; moreso than, say, green. Sure, you might be stumping for the environment or the NY Jets, but you’re probably just wearing the cleanest shirt you could find ; it happened to be green. No one gets discussed behind their backs for wearing green.

Pink is salaciously political: there are issues of gender and sexuality wrapped up in it that makes the color almost inseparable from the bullshit we’ve heaped upon the poor wavelength. Pink brings up questions that TotD will not even try to answer, for fear that said answers will surely turn Twitter and against him.

So, anyway: Bobby washed the guitar with a red sock. You know the deal.


  1. I actually own a pink strat. Be that as it may, I think this needs to be worked into a posting on Mr. Weir:

  2. It’s great. It’s like waving your cock up on stage.

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