Roy Cone Talina banjo ukulele
Don't let the name fool you: this lovely banjo ukulele has no connections to the Mafia, government, or any other type of organized crime. Roy Cohn is the Roy Cone you're thinking of. The Roy Cone we're talking about is the ukulele Roy Cone.
This is my favorite ukelele. Feels good. Sounds good. Is good. Is nothing like that cadence chanted by the inbred boot campers in Full Metal Jacket.
Admittedly, it does look a little backwoodsy in the photo, especially with the scavenged violin case, inner tube, garden hose, smudged birdshit, and stray leaves, not to mention that image of the kid from Deliverance that you just can't get out of the back of your mind, even though nobody said anything about that.
So just embrace it.
KA TING TING TING TING-A-LING-A-LING-A LING LING-A-LING KA-CHUNK
With due honor and respect, therefore, and counting the foregoing onomatopoetic banjo uke tinkling as a trumpet ( . . . herald? What's the word I want? Clarion?):
Roy Cone Talina banjo, I do hereby dub thee Cockeye.
Because every Sancho needs his Cockeye.
I would say, in the words of Han Solo, "She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts, kid." Except I would be talking about Princess Leia. Or, in this case, about the banjo ukulele the world now calls Cockeye, the banjo ukulele with the voice so sweet it could have saved the careers of countless silent film stars, if it's not just a myth that they lost their careers for having Brooklyn accents. (That doesn't even really make sense. It never hurt Bugs Bunny any.)
Like most of our vice presidents from eras when vice presidents weren't secretly in charge, it's basically a glorified drumhead. Unlike our vice presidents, this drumhead is highly functional and pleasing.
I like the geared tuners, but I have a strong preference for pegs that stay completely hidden behind the head, mainly because it makes them so much easier to cut out in Photoshop.
Apparently this model is no longer made. Pity. May Cockeye live forever.