It's time to slap a few cards down on the table, podners... Who ever had the brilliant idee to move Epiphone's fact'ry out of New York shoulda been keel hauled. Back in the fifties, when men were men and General Eisenhower was President the Epiphone guitar stood for something. So did the Cadillac, by thunder. Steel bumpers, steel dashboard, none of this crybaby stuff about smog or flyin' babies. Epiphone guitar were made in New York by Merkans, buddy. They shoulda never sold the comp'ny to those Gibson pukes. That started them downhill on a sled, and they ain't never recovered. Now they make 'em in Chinee, and the necks are so narrow that only a tiny little Asian guy can play one. Epiphone orta buy Gibson now... serve 'em right. None of them Epis will balance worth a plugged centavo, and they screech and mutter through the best of amps, cain't tell if ya turned the tone knob or not. Polyurethane finish makes the tone into pure mud. It feels sticky on yer frettin' hand an it grabs yer shirt an pulls it down the front of ya, till ya look like one a the three stooges. Useless... Bridges and all the hardware is nothin' but cheap junk, best thing to do is buy a used one, and strip it. Then put it together right, the Merkan way.