Teddy Greenspan is a longtime art collector who does not suffer doubt. He is a bond salesman at Libertas Partners, in Greenwich, Conn., and he and his wife, Emily, recently created an art consulting company in Bedford, N.Y., called tag-arts. The pieces he sells average about $20,000, with a few selling for as much as $90,000; his clients, many of whom work in the financial fields, can well afford them. So you can imagine his frustration when dealing recently with a friend and potential client.

“He’s in his 30s, probably worth 20-some million and feels poor because his personal net worth has gone down from 26 million since last summer,” Mr. Greenspan said. “He buys a Park Avenue apartment for $7 million, spends another $7 million decorating it, and now he quibbles over $15,000 or $18,000 for a painting.”

As an art consultant, Mr. Greenspan has encountered this kind of conflict before. (…)

Jonathan Arnold, a 45-year-old Chicago economist, asked friends whose collections he admired how they acquired their work, and came up with the name of an art consultant, Marcia G. Levine, of Levine Fine Art in Manhattan, who once sold a Modigliani to the Vatican Museums and creates collections for people around the world.

Her commission, should you be new to this world, comes from the gallery, unless she is on retainer from a client. If you’re not prepared to make a commitment to creating a collection — which, for a young person, can start with a $5,000 drawing — don’t bother her. Ms. Levine arranged for Mr. Arnold to go to the Marlborough gallery in New York before an opening to see the work of an American artist named Michael Anderson. Mr. Arnold was especially taken with “Strange Party,” a collage created from torn bits of street posters. He bought it for $20,000. He also saw the work of another artist, Steven Charles, and liked it so much that he will be buying a piece that has not yet been finished, for a price he does not know.

{ NY Times | Continue reading }

austin craigslist
Frankenpick
Date: 2007-10-19, 9:08AM CDT

Latest offering smuggled from the former Soviet Union, this pick utilizes old Russian nuclear laser technology. Strap on the convenient Velcro micro-unit, plug into any 1200 Watt power supply, and aim the solar panels directly at the sun and dial in the guitar style of your choice.

From Chet Atkins to Duane Allman, guitar herodom is literally at your fingertips. The micro sensors process the bass and drum beats and submit a series of small electrical shocks directly into your nervous system causing you to involuntarily crank out searing leads.

A word of caution: actual electrical discharges my vary, and side affects could include erratic blues face, trembling of the hips commonly known as Presley syndrome, drooling and involuntary anal discharge. In extreme cases, you may be mistaken for a drummer.

Local sales only. Cash only. Contact your health care professional if erection last more than 6 hours. No scammers please.

portland craigslist
Originally Posted: Thu, 20 Oct 23:13 PDT
flagged for my ‘for sale’ ad
Date: 2005-10-20, 11:13PM PDT

I originally posted this in the “for sale” section of this website, but it was flagged and removed within 25 minutes. If you know anyone that can help me, please read on:

Years ago, just before i transferred from Chemeketa to the U of O, i was in a pretty sad state–sexwise, that is. My problem was that i wasn’t pulling enough trim to keep my sexual desires satiated. I was basically a walking boner machine, cranking out a product that nobody wanted. Getting laid in high school was no problem: Back in the 90s girls would lift skirt as naturally as they would sneeze or yawn. But when college and hence my 20s came around, something happened. I can’t put my finger in it, but i think it had something to do with the fact that women over 20 aren’t impressed with things like how quickly you can shotgun a can of Milwaukee’s Best Ice.

So my first term at U of O was pretty much vadgeless, no matter what i tried. Dyed my hair blonde, bought a new Merkur with the two spoilers, threw away all of my old Hypercolor T-shirts, even started ordering Cointreau Sidecars at the bar just to seem impressively pedantic. Nothing worked, and I was just about ready to resign myself to life without poon.

But then one day a miracle happened. I was walking back to my quad on 18th and Kincaid when i found something in the holly bushes out in front of the Lorax. It was easily recognizable by the shape of the hardcase poking out from the foliage. I opened up the case and saw that it was an accoustic guitar. A beautiful guitar that said “Regent by Kramer” on the little stem thingie. I placed the guitar back into the soft fluffy red fur that lined the hardcase and lugged it home. I placed a lost and found ad in the Emerald and called it a night. I didn’t think it at the time, but that was pretty much the last night i would sleep without two soft milky-white breasts to bury my chin between.

The following day I decided to take the guitar with me to my CompLit 318 class because it was one of those once-a-week 6-hour classes that was more like an independent study type of thing. Just before reaching the corner of 17th and University, a girl named Alayne Mundtz walked up to me. Her first words were, “Are you in a band?” I was so surprised that such a beautiful although shortish Jewish girl would walk up to a stranger on the street that i lied, “Yes. Yes i am.” By 9:30 that night, I was nose deep in Alayne. She broke up with me about three weeks later (when she finally realized that i didn’t actually know how to play guiter), but that was okay because i was getting pretty sick of her anyway. Two nights later, i brought the guitar to Max’s on 13th. That’s where Jennifer D’Amico bought me four pints of Jubelale before taking me home. She thought she was an “artist” and had all of these paintings of butterflies all over her bedroom. I didn’t care, though, because she was a box-shaver and that was the first time I’d ever gone down on a hoo-ha sans hair. She kicked me out of her apartment about a month later when she found out i wasn’t in a band, but–again–i was fine with that because i think i was allergic to her fabric softener.

That was pretty much how the rest of my college career went. I got a BA in English Lit because i was happy to coast by on a 2.49 GPA, and about 30 notches on my headboard because of the guitar.

I moved to Portland after graduation, and the guitar-luck, of course, came with me. I’ve sprayed in all sorts of Portland girls thanks to this guitar: Indies, goths, trustafarians, hipsters, even a lesbian once from that time i lugged it up to the Egyptian Club on Division. This instrument has been vital in both my sexual development and approximately seven abortions. I won’t even tell you about the time when i brought the guitar to the Planned Parenthood up in Northeast by the Wild Oats. All I can say is that Planned Parenthoods are a ripe garden of fertile baby caves. Best. Blowjob. Ever.

You may be wondering why i’m willing to part with this guitar, this chick magnet, this slit supplier. Fair question. I present my answer to you in two parts: Firstly, i think it’s morally apprehensible to walk around town with a guitar case if the only reason you’re doing it is to moisten panties, especially if you’ve never even bothered to learn how to play. Secondly, and more importantly, I’ve finally met a girl without the help of the guitar. On one of the rare occassions that i forgot to bring out the chick magnet, i met a saucy little redhead at Paradox, and the carpets match the drapes if you know what i mean. We’re engaged to be married.

I can pretty much guarantee that you’ll be swimming in muffpuddles by the end of the week if you buy this guitar, but i really don’t want to tell the fiancee about this so please don’t hesitate to take it off my hands.

The price is firm.

photo { Darrell Abbott of Damageplan }

Michael Angelo Batio invented and successfully played the very first ‘quad’ guitar. However, the instrument was stolen during a Nitro show in El Paso, Texas, and only two of the four parts required for its assembly have ever been recovered. It is because of this that he has not played the quad guitar in many years. However, Dean Guitars recently finished production on a new quad guitar for Batio. The Double Guitar is another of his innovations, which he commonly uses live, but never in studio recordings.

{ 4-Neck Fender Stringmaster }

Cheap Trick guitarist Rick Nielsen with a Five Neck (four necks with six strings, plus a 12-string).

Fred Mangan’s guitar made from the pipes of an Organ built in the 1800’s.

Fred Mangan’s satellite dish, old film reel and BC Rich guitars.

On eBay: Sword Angel Guitar custom made for the Alfee’s guitar player Takamizawa.

AK-47 guitar and Bass Guitar.

Colombian musician Cesar Lopez holds a guitar made from the rifle of a demobilized paramilitary member as part of a government campaign to transform weapons into musical instruments. | M16 rifle-shaped guitar which belonged to the late Jamaican reggae star Peter Tosh

On Saturday, April 28, 29-year-old Louisville, Kentucky native Cory Moore legally married his guitar (a Gibson Cherry ES-335). The union was performed at Moore’s Madison, Tennessee home by Minister Jack Madden, 34, a friend of Moore’s who had been ordained online by the Universal Life Church. More than two dozen of Moore’s friends and families attended the remarkably traditional ceremony, bearing witness to vows penned by Moore himself. An example: “I, Cory, take you, Roxanne [the name Moore has given the instrument], to rock and to roll, for as long as I live.” 

“The day I got her, I just knew she was the one,” Moore stated when reached for comment. “I know it seems weird, but I really love her—like, really love her, with all my heart. I just wanted to make it official.” Not surprisingly, this is Moore’s first marriage. He has no children. { Gibson.com | Continue reading }

No doubt you’ve seen the Keith Richards story that exploded across the media on Tuesday — the one where the Rolling Stones guitarist told Britain’s New Musical Express that after the death and cremation of his father, Bert, in 2002, he mixed his dad’s ashes with some cocaine and snorted them up.

Clearly, this is one of the all-time great rock and roll stories. Unfortunately, it’s not true. It seems to have been either a joke — one that sailed right over the NME interviewer’s head — or a misunderstanding of Richards’ famously hard-to-parse verbal style. (…)

Keith Richards now says “The truth of the matter is that I planted a sturdy English Oak. I took the ashes [and sprinkled them beneath the tree], and [my father] is now growing oak trees and he would love me for it!” As for the ashes-and-cocaine-snorting story he told to the NME, Richards said, “I was trying to say how tight Bert and I were — that tight!

“I wouldn’t take cocaine at this point in my life,” he added, “unless I wished to commit suicide.” { NY Times | Continue reading }