A few days ago Blue Gal reminded us that it's that wonderful time of the year again.
Frank Zappa died December 4, and was born (earlier, they tell me) on December 21.Two years ago, the blog known as The Aristocrats declared that December 4 through 21 should henceforth be known as Zappadan: the days of the year between death and birth, that ethereal time when there was no Frank, so we must celebrate him to keep his spirit safe until his birthday again.Or it's just a great excuse for a party that has nothing to do with the greed and debt festival known as Christmas in America. In any event, it's a labor of love with the hope that Frank would be proud.
There are many stories of delightful and wondrous things taking place at this time. Every ones heard of the lady who, last year during the festive season , went to the DMV and applied for a new licence plate , received it , all paperwork complete, no lines , no red tape and even was offered a doughnut. Last year on December 4th, I put several dull razor blades in an old record sleeve of Frank's Weasels Ripped My Flesh and a week later when I shook them out over my oak coffee table they were so sharp that as they fell they stuck in the wood and could only be pulled out with pliers. Babies conceived during this season have a higher I.Q. than average and dogs adopted during this time are noted for their loyalty, intelligence and skills with a Frisbee. I had a one night stand during Zappadan that turned into a beautiful 4 month relationship. It really is a magical time.
I think it was someone at the Onion who said " If you don't like Frank Zappa you just haven't heard the right album yet ". Here's one of my favorites, Montana, and this live version is smokin'.