Anthony Fantano thinks he is king of music but we have a surprise for him!
Surprise!
Listen in as we rip off our shirts, pour lighter fluid all over him, and set it on fire! Oh wait, that’s next week and a different person, never mind.
We loaded Mr. Fantano onto a bus we had labeled “Free Cans of Barbasol” and he fell for it. Twenty minutes later we pull up to our favorite music store and give him our proposition.
We wager he can’t play anything inside the music store, and he looks nervous. We use peer pressure that we learned in DARE class to get him to go inside.
Put up or shut up
He gets that anxious feeling but pushes forward anyway. He has a reputation to uphold. He figures if he calls our bluff we might forget about it.
Wrong! This is a patented Fantano coping technique. Within a half hour he is whining to us and pleading with us not to film it. We’re not monsters, so we oblige.
We force him to the keyboards. He blangs out random notes and keys with summoned confidence that doesn’t shield our ears from the cacophony pouring out of his feeble imagination.
This was pure hell because everyone working at the music shop is now trying to gouge their ears out with guitar tuners.
Then he plays one of the auto-songs on the Casio and tries to take credit for Mary Had a Little Lamb. We’re starting to laugh, and point. He is choking back his tears as he looks around the room and everyone including the employees are pointing and laughing. In our judgement we don’t notice that he’s holding his breath.
Turning blue
He held his breath so much he passed out and had to be airlifted to the nearest hospital where they had to rebuild his brain to find another job.
We visit him in the hospital. He’s hooked up to a bunch of beeping machines so we know this is our chance.
We pull out a Fender electric guitar, an amp, and unplug all those lame machines. We challenge him to a rock off. We’ll go first. Solo after solo we’re jamming out, but we didn’t realize we had unplugged Fantano’s life support machine and now he’s a ghost. We ask his vacant corpse if he could please stop shitting everywhere while we pack up our music gear and leave.
Talk about a missed opportunity
What a waste of our travel budget. We didn’t get any of it on tape and we all know YouTube hits are digital sacrament.
There’s no way we can ever charge money for this piece of work but for being such a bitch in life you earned yourself a pat on the back.
Sorry if that sounded grumpy, I’m wearing Fantano’s old glasses and they’re the wrong prescription!
