T, maybe later we can sing Bob Marley in the pub like these guys.

I prefare this one

;-)

It's now after midnight in Pennsylvania sooooooooooo....

***DEEEEEEEP BREFF**********

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOO HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU OOOOOOOO HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU OOOOOOOO HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAR CHELLLLLLLEEEEEEEE.............

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HAPPY BIRTHDAY................

TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU!

Sizzles - Hi...welcome to the site. :-)

"I was really surprised at the tones on the musterion cd. VERY lush, and reminded me in a way of alot of the earlier stuff as well ...  If you can get those tones with the satchurator, then I'll probably buy."

Joe likely used some Satchurator prototypes during the recording of PSATMOR, so if you're looking for those tones the pedal should help.

Joe's tone has changed over the years as he's developed new pickups, amps, pedals, and so on...he's still always able to play pretty much everything, though, which should tell you that the majority of it is in his fingers.

It's nice to see you mention Dave Weiner. I love his solo album; I wish he'd release another already! ;-) The Ghost of Denmark St. is my favorite from him, although the whole album is excellent.

Hey Clarky, Huib told me you had posted about Maria in here. Some beautiful words you've typed. I share your grief, she was much loved and will be sorely missed, I'll be in touch soon. *Big hugs*

HELL YEAH!! lol!

Austin, I love Dave Weiner's music. I'll be getting his next cd as soon as it's released.

Chee, I love that vid! lmao! What a way to start the day. lmao!! woo-wooooo!!

Thanks for the b-day wishes peeps. 4 is a good number, and 44 is even better!

clarky - Nice to chat today but sorry to hear bour Maire, lovely to know that your music is being played and you are playing a personal song at the funeral, hope it goes well.

Will be playing Shredz monday and thinking of you!

Congrats on the tour.

cheese101 - Well its just not fair that men can stay the same size for life and its law that women put on 7 pounds every ten years! grrrrr........so no chance he is selling the jacket then....sigh!

Have a good weekend all

i sure hope this gets to Joe ..... i was at the Metropolitan-Mexico a few days ago for the 13th Aug show. just wanted to say thankyou Joe.... i came all the way from Jordan (middle east), and after all these years, was lucky to finally get to see you live. anyways, u took me back to the days when i first got your Time Machine CD, 14 years ago, pressed play, and learnt how to play guitar from the best. fast forward, and now im a recording artist, realising a dream that you brought about without knowing. so thanx again, for being a role model, a teacher and one hell of a guy ...... hope you continue playing for many years to come.

For women (or for men who want to know why it takes so long)

PART ONE

When you have to visit a public bathroom, you usually find a line of women, so you smile politely and take your place.

Once it's your turn, you check for feet under the stall doors. Every stall is occupied.

Finally, a door opens and you dash in, nearly knocking down the woman leaving the stall.

You get in to find the door won't latch.

It doesn't matter, the wait has been so long you are about to wet your pants! The dispenser for the modern "seat covers" (invented by someone's Mom, no doubt) is handy, but empty.

You would hang your purse on the door hook, if there was one, but there isn't - so you carefully, but quickly drape it around your neck, (Mom would turn over in her grave if you put it on the FLOOR!), yank down your pants, and assume " The Stance."

In this position your aging, toneless thigh muscles begin to shake. You'd love to sit down, but you certainly hadn't taken time to wipe the seat or lay toilet paper on it, so you hold "The Stance."

To take your mind off your trembling thighs, you reach for what you discover to be the empty toilet paper dispenser.

In your mind, you can hear your mother's voice saying, "Honey, if you had tried to clean the seat, you would have KNOWN there was no toilet paper!" Your thighs shake more.

You remember the tiny tissue that you blew your nose on yesterday the one that's still in your purse.

(Oh yeah, the purse around your neck, that now, you have to hold up trying not to strangle yourself at the same time).

That would have to do. You crumple it in the puffiest way possible. It's still smaller than your thumbnail .

Someone pushes your door open because the latch doesn't work. The door hits your purse, which is hanging around your neck in front of your chest, and you and your purse topple backward against the tank of the toilet.

"Occupied!" you scream, as you reach for the door, dropping your precious, tiny, crumpled tissue in a puddle on the floor, lose your footing altogether, and slide down directly onto the TOILET SEAT. It is wet of course.

You bolt up, knowing all too well that it's too late.

For women (or for men who want to know why it takes so long)

PART TWO

Your bare bottom has made contact with every imaginable germ and life form on the uncovered seat because YOU never laid down toilet paper - not that there was any, even if you had taken time to try.

You know that your mother would be utterly appalled if she knew, because, you're certain her bare bottom never touched a public toilet seat because, frankly, dear, "You just don't KNOW what kind of diseases you could get.

By this time, the automatic sensor on the back of the toilet is so confused that it flushes, propelling a stream of water like a fire hose against the inside of the bowl that sprays a fine mist of water that covers your butt and runs down your legs and into your shoes. The flush somehow sucks everything down with such force that you grab onto the empty toilet paper dispenser for fear of being dragged in too.

At this point, you give up. You're soaked by the spewing water and the wet toilet seat. You're exhausted.

You try to wipe with a gum wrapper you found in your pocket and then slink out inconspicuously to the sinks.

You can't figure out how to operate the faucets with the automatic sensors, so you wipe your hands with spit and a dry paper towel and walk past the line of women still waiting. You are no longer able to smile politely to them.

A kind soul at the very end of the line points out a piece of toilet paper trailing from your shoe.

(Where was that when you NEEDED it??) You yank the paper from your shoe, plunk it in the woman's hand and tell her warmly, "Here, you just might need this.

As you exit, you spot your hubby, who has long since entered, used, and left the men's restroom.

Annoyed, he asks, "What took you so long, and why is your purse hanging around your neck?"

This is dedicated to women everywhere who deal with a public restrooms (rest??? you've GOT to be kidding!!).

It finally explains to the men what really does take us so long.

It also answers their other commonly asked questions about why women go to the restroom in pairs.

It's so the other gal can hold the door, hang onto your purse and hand you Kleenex under the door!

A Friend Is Like A Good Bra...

Hard to Find

Share this with a friend! I Just Did!

True story...

The first G3 show I went to was at the Vally Forge Music Fair. At the intermission between EJ & SV, my husband and I made our way up to the rest rooms. When we got there, my chin hit the floor, and I yelled "No freakin' way!!" There was NO line to the ladies room, but the line to the mens room was 20 deep! It was a joy I've never felt going to the rest room at a show before. I think a tear rolled down my cheek. LOL! It's always 10 out of 10 times that the ladies line is out the door and wrapping around the friggin hall. This time - it was just me! I'm not positive, but that could have been the happiest public rest room pee I've ever taken.

True Story.

Now that Joe has gotten more popular, we're back to a longer line of wimmins, but it's still not as bad as the other shows we go to. Must be an instrumental guitarist thang?