About 40 years ago, I had a farmer friend who went to New Zealand for a couple of years. He came back with a kiwi wife. They had a Coonass/kiwi daughter, but dats another story.

The poor boy was the worst guitar player on the planet. Fortunately,  his wife was deaf! (No joke)

Against my better judgement,  I hauled my huge bass amp to his house about 30 miles away because he would not take no for an answer.

I got there, unloaded, and set up. Then i broke out the old Fender Precision.

His wife couldn't hear but she knew when he was playing too loud because she could feel the vibrations.

We started to play a tune, his wife was mopping, and his wife came over and grunt scolded him to turn it down. Well, I guess the woman never had a bass in the house and I'm sure she was feeling the bass vibes.

A little while later she came over again with the mop bucket and pointed down to it. Seems she was trying to tell us we were still playing too loud because the water in the bucket was rippling. Lol. But not for long!

The third time she came over, he had struck out!

He was still strapped to his guitar and she commenced to beating him with the soaking, dripping wet mop. He was laughing his ass off and all I was thinking about was both of them are going to get fried right before my eyes. Maybe me to.

First thing I did was unplug my amp. Then i packed my shit and got the f@ck out of there. Never to return.

They got divorced eventually and his wife and daughter moved back to NZ.

Interestingly enough, he was born and lived in the same little unincorporated town Buddy Guy was born in.

He was my buddy and he was a guy, but he certainly wasn't no Buddy Guy!  :o