Här är en skämtsam historia som brukade lätta upp stämningen i replokalen på den tiden som det begav sig. När man idag ser nivån på skämtet så förstår man hur grått och trist det kunde vara i en replokal.
Jag tyckte inte riktigt att den passade in på min Baroque 'n Roll blogg, så den får platsa här istället.
Mycket nöje.

Fifty years in the future:

A guitarist dies and is quite please to find that he ends up standing before the pearly gates of Guitar Heaven. St. Peter shows him in, and gives him a guided tour.

"This is Stevie Ray Vaughan’s room here..." says Peter, and the guitarist is saying "Wow! Stevie Ray!"
"And this is Jimi Hendrix room..." and the guitarist is totally over the moon.

Finally Peter shows the guitarist to his own room. Before Peter leaves, he says to him, "I have to ask. Is Yngwie here?" Peter shakes his head sadly and says "I'm afraid he went... the "other" way..."

The guitarist is disappointed but goes to his room and tries to get some sleep. He is woken up in the middle of the night by someone playing a really fast harmonic minor lick - and it sounds just like Yngwie. He presses his ear to the wall, and listens more closely. Someone in the next room is playing really fast neo-classical shreds through what sounds very much like a vintage Strat. The guitarist is confused as it sounds so much like Yngwie. The next day he tells Peter that he is almost certain that Yngwie's in the next room.

Peter pulls him to one side, and whispers into his ear, "Shhh.... don't tell anyone. That's God. He thinks he's Yngwie Malmsteen"

"L.I.B"