Who is Smash Guy?

Smash Guy is a guy for hire who will come wherever you are, beach, park, wherever, and smash boom boxes, speakers, guitars, or any source of music preventing you from enjoying your day.

What’s your smashing tool?

Customer's choice. They can select novelty items for a small fee, but common items include the mannequin leg, cactus, and rubber dildo.

Really? Mannequin leg?

It’s more effective than you might think. I once fought off a teeming horde of post-birthday cake children with a mannequin leg after smashing their Kidz Bop.

Doesn’t that seem aggressive? Why can’t people just ask the person responsible for the music to turn it down?

The majority of people who force their music on you don’t respond well to civilized action. They’re looking for confrontation. They crave it. Smash Guy knows this because Smash Guy used to be one of these people until he decided to channel his obnoxious desire to smash for good.

What about you? Why can’t you ask them to turn it down? Why can’t you be, oh I don’t know, Diplomatic Guy?

Look, if someone wants to hire a negotiator, by all means, good luck. Even if I felt that was a productive way to deal with these people, you’ve seen me—the veins, the weird ears, the hair on my earlobes. I’m not exactly a calming presence. I’m the Guy you call when enough is enough and it’s smash time.

How do you respond to claims that your true identity is Speaker Guy and your do-good speaker smashing is a ruse to crank up speaker demand?

Is Speaker Guy my brother? Yes. Does Speaker Guy make indirect profits from my speaker smashing? Most likely. Does Speaker Guy give me a commission or any kind of compensation for each speaker I smash? No. My brother and I are enemies, and the idea of him profiting from my life’s work makes me question what I do every single day. Growing up, we shared a room, and he would make me listen to his Thin Lizzy album on repeat. One of the many without “The Boys Are Back in Town.” God, I often fantasize about smashing my way around his store with a zen garden rake.

Thank you for your time.

That’s it?

Yep.

Why?

I just disagree with your business model. And I refuse to indulge you any further.

What is there to disagree about?

I think it’s perfectly fine to play music at the beach. And if someone has a problem, they should approach me about it in a civilized manner.

Why should the onus be on the individual subjected to your particular type of music? Why should there be the hurdle of an awkward social interaction?

Because I’ve spent lots of time curating playlists specifically to please the everyday beach-goer, just completely stuffed with absolute bangers—we’re talking Bob Marley and Jimmy Buffet, okay? The least people can do is tell me to my face why they want me to turn it down.

It sounds to me that what you really want is validation for your music. And that’s fine. But there’s a huge difference between playing for a willing audience and beating on non-consenting eardrums.

Don’t you think that’s a little dramatic? I mean, c’mon, music and the beach are synonymous. What is the beach without music?

It’s birds singing, boats swish-swashing, waves crashing on the shore. Why can’t you use headphones?

Are you joking?

Well?

Um, because sand gets all up in there and in the ears. That’s why.

Look, I can’t believe I’m doing this. But my brother sells speakers that restrict the noise to a certain radius. So that might be a solution.

Can you get me a discount?

I just told you. We’re enemies.

You owe me.

And why’s that?

You’ve smashed three of my fucking speakers. That’s why.

Huh, I thought you looked familiar.