This statue is on Broadway in downtown Nashville, where I was today. He used to have a guitar; now he just has broken fingers and an opened right fist that resembles planned masturbation. What I want to know is this: who is the sorry sack o’ shit who ripped off Elvis’s guitar? What would one even do with such an artifact?
I tell you, gentle readers, the world has become an awful, awful place when a dead man can’t even peacefully strum his guitar on a Music City sidewalk without being accosted and robbed.
I remedy depression by reading humorous blogs. So should you.