Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called Zappadan.

Electric word, Zappadan, it means Dec. 4 – Dec. 21. But I’m here to tell you: There’s something else.

There’s Prince.

A Dude Extraordinaire. He could always bring the Quake. Day or night.

So when you call up that shrink in Cucamonga, you know the one, CAPTAIN BEEFHEART, instead of asking how much time you have left, ask WHO ARE THE BRAIN POLICE, baby.

‘Cuz in this life, things are much harder than in the afterworld.

In this life, you’re on your own.

And if the elevator tries to break you down…FREAK OUT!

LET’S PUNCH ANOTHER FLOOR

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What on this green growing Earth are you talking about?

I’m talking about Zappadan, man.

I thought Zappadan was for Frank Zappa.

It is. Of course. But this year we lost Prince.

What does Prince have to do with Frank Zappa?

Well, historically, not much. In fact, here’s a tidbit I found on the internets, though I would not vouch 100 percent for its validity:

From Todd Yvega, one of FZs technicians (via Kickstarter):
“One day in the studio, during the course of regular studio banter, the subject of Prince somehow came up. Most of the guys up on their high horses disparaged Prince for his “sex and purple fantasy” image. Frank made his point that he admires Prince simply for being dedicated and a hard worker. I asked Frank if he had met Prince, whereupon he said, “Well I tried, but he ran away!” Naturally that struck me as one hell of a teaser so I asked for elaboration. Frank said he was at an industry event where Prince was in attendance. Frank spotted Prince and decided he’d walk over and introduce himself. But when Prince saw Frank walking toward him, he looked like got scared and just ran away. The way Frank told it gave the impression that he just shrugged it off and thought, “Oh well.”

So they never even met? And you’re going to fete that skinny motherfucker with the high voice on Zappadan? I still don’t get it.

But, look at it this way. Iconoclastic musician. Great facial hair. Hard-working, industrious multi-instrumentalist. Unbelievably prolific, too prolific, in fact, for the music industry to manage. Leader of bands. Producer. Railed against the established industry practices. Multi-genre artist, dabbling heavily in jazz and orchestral composition. Guitar master. Filmmaker.

Which one of these fellas does this describe?

Hum, I guess I can see your point.

Uh-huh.

That doesn’t mean I have to like it. And I don’t. I don’t like it.

Well, too bad, McFly. You know what I have to say to that?

Sigh. Yes. AAAFNRAA

That’s right. AAAFNRAA. Anything. Anytime. Anywhere. For no reason at all.

Fine. You gonna write about Frank at all, fool?

Well, of course. I have to. I mean, Lady Gaga bought the ranch house, right?

Yep.

And Dweezil and Ahmet?

At loggerheads.

So shut up already.

I’m using the chicken to measure it.

Damn.