Ya’ll didn’t think I forgot, did you?
Let. Zappadan. Commence.
As you may well know, Zappadan is an annual blogswarm running from April 11 through November 1, which represents the first day that Dweezil Zappa made a poo-poo in the toidy through the day the WORLD CHAMPION KANSAS CITY ROYALS CLINCHED THE WORLD SERIES IN FIVE GAMES. We celebrate this fine holiday by pluning at the gnomes and sorting out the binomial nomenclatre of the lemons and the geese.
I hear you’re having trouble with pigs and ponies.
Now. As you know, what I have just typed is not actually the truth about the Zappadan. But I finger that enough people will explain to you the ins and outs of the Gregory Peccary, that it begins on December the Fourth, which is the day in 1993 that composer, musician, and rock god Frank Zappa stopped refusing to die, which is today, concindentally as a zombie woof, to December 21, which is my kid brother’s birthday, and also soul singer Betty Wright’s birthday, and is also composer, musician, and rock god Frank Zappa’s birthday, too, so the holiday goes from Bummernacht, which is today, which is today, which is today, to the birthday of the Frank Zappa, which I was not going to explain to you, but which I just did.
America drinks and goes home.
I usually spend the holiday bloviating at this little blog area I have created and maintained for a pretty long time. Topics this year that may or may not be discussed: Little Richard. Gail Zappa. My Dad. The little house I used to live in. Underpants. Prince. Paul Robeson. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Pauline Butcher. The artificial fart under the arm. My perpetual life status as an outsider. The Republican Party. Star Wars. Lou Reed. AAAFNRAA. Suzie Quatro. My auditory cortex. Stranger danger. The first time Dweezil Zappa made a poo-poo in the toidy. Gerbils. The new Frank Zappa CD. The new Dweezil Zappa CD. Tony Bennett. The new Frank Zappa movie.
And, I think today it is appropriate to write a little something about San Bernardino.
Frank Zappa reviled San Bernardino in song, once referring to “San Berdino squares” and again later in an entire composition based on his own experience in Rancho Cucamonga after a trumped-up porno charge by an overzealous detective. He wrote:
“The ten days I spent in Tank C at the San Bernardino County Jail were very educational. Unless you’ve been to jail, you can’t imagine what it’s actually like….We were supplied with one razor blade per day, and one small shower stall at the end of the cell block for forty-four men. The scum on the shower basin was about four inches thick. I didn’t shave or take a shower the whole time I was there.”
From the Miles biography:
Frank was a different person when he came out. He no longer believed anything the authorities told him. As far as he was concerned the American education system had failed him; it was a lie from start to finish, the reality was America was a corrupt, grubby little fascist state. He was determined never to be duped again. Tank C [His jail area] traumatized him for life and in many ways he spent the rest of his career shoving his pornographic tape down America‘s throat, time and time again. He was determined to show Americans what their country was really like.
So, there’s that.
But tonight, on this Bummernacht, we can take a new bead on the ol’ Inland Empire. In a way, in a somewhat perverse way, it may be good that Frank Zappa can’t see what in the wide wide world of sports it’s all come to.
Sigh.
Anyway, kids, the other thing I’ll be writing about OTHER BLOGGERS. Other bloggers who are blogging Zappadan. Cuz, after all, this is a blogswarm. And that’s what it’s all about. Sharing is caring.
But hey, enough of my yakkin’. What do you say? Let’s boogie!
–30–