So fggn DM him (or vice versa) the email of a trusted luthier, who might as well talk him through not fggn-up his exotic angled Collings trust rod for fgg's sake? I can't see the harm in it.

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I mean the furry-footed fella, longtime permanent sufferer o this salty ol' cantankerous ragamuffin, kneels at the base of Mount Etna, with only Excalibur and the bollocks to sharpen 'er again!? ALSo with what certainly appears to be a genuine passion for such th' dire craft at hand. I imagine there's gotta be a luthier who could at least try to talk this turbulent plane with all its twisting souls down outta the sky alive & rockin'! No? God forbid.

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LIFe's too short innit?