Politicizing Zappadan 2011

 Posted by at 2:03 PM on December 5, 2011
Dec 052011

Gingrich 2012Encino Two Hundred Motels security guard, Han-Min-Noon, stops Newt Gingrich in the parking lot;  Gingrich’s traveling Clown Caravan said it was in town to celebrate the beginning of Zappadan, which started the day before.

Open up your pocketbook,
Get another quarter out,
Drop it in the meter, mama
Try me on for size
Magic Fingers, Frank Zappa

ENCINO —  It’s widely undisputed that some politicians will do just about anything to get elected, and that the Muppets are Communists.  They will lie, cheat, and steal cheap motel towels.  They will perform jaw-dropping acts of hypocrisy as easily as a camel falls through the eye of a needle the size of Atlantic City, New Jersey.

Some of them however, are cut from a different cloth.  Calico Clown cloth, to be exact.  The latest outrage by a 2012 candidate for the Republican Party presidential nomination is clothed in that clown cloth:  it’s Newt Gingrich, and his creepy grovel for a few hip votes:  an impromptu celebration of ZAPPADAN.

An alert member of the parking security team for the famous Two Hundred Motels Motel in Encino, California, spotted Newt Gingrich as he squirmed into a clown costume behind an adult electric tricycle.

“When he saw me coming over, he hustled his fat ass— uh sorry;  can I say ‘fat ass’?  Okay;  well he gets his fat ass onto this red tricycle-thing, and tries to drive off,” said Han-Min-Noon, Day Lot Security Guard at Two Hundred.  “So I ask him if he’s a registered guest at the Motel, and he says, ‘Don’t you know who I am?’  I says, No, I don’t know who you are;  are you a registered guest of the Motel?  After about twenty questions, it turns out he wasn’t registered at the Motel at all;  he was just using our parking lot to launch some kind of weird fucking parade.”

Gingrich and the other members of his caravan were asked to leave.  They loaded up their clown-cycle and drove away.  They were not ticketed by security.

The current front runner for the Republicans’ presidential slot is not the first Republican to attempt a celebration of sorts of ZAPPADAN.  In 2009, we shared an exclusive report on a Zappadan party held by more than a dozen Republican politicos:

Zappa RepublicansDon’t recognize some of these “pathetic sodomite PsOS,”?  Count yourself lucky.

Encino Mammalian Protrusion Cotillion Performed

 Posted by at 2:20 PM on December 15, 2010
Dec 152010

Encino Mammalian Protrusion Cotillion

The Encino Mammalian Protrusion Cotillion got their areolas all bumpy-like Wednesday, as they gathered for their annual Zappadan celebration. The Cotillion front row left 2 right: Frank Zappa, Frank Zappa, Frank Zappa, Frank Zappa, Frank Zappa, Frank Zappa;  back row: Frank Zappa, Frank Zappa, Frank Zappa, Frank Zappa, Frank Zappa, and Frank Zappa. (Click it.)

ENCINO—  Zappadan dress-up parties are becoming increasingly popular with Zappaphiles, and The Encino Mammalian Protrusion Cotillion is no exception, although members are required to only dress up as Frank, which has reduced their membership to a mere dozen highly excitable mammals.

The Mammalian Protrusion Cotillion members all more or less confess a musical admiration for either of the two soft, protruding organs located on the upper front of a woman’s body, which are known to secrete a warm and wonderful elixir, usually after a protracted bout of pregnancy.

The Encino Cotillion gathers at a discrete distance from the heart of the Pepperdine University satellite campus, and like other Zappadan revelers, lay into the White Port and Lime Juice.  But unlike other cotillions, however, the Encino boobs eschew the traditional burnt weenie sandwich breakfast and move right into a screening of the Free Range Boob scene from Woody Allen’s, Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (*But Were Afraid to Ask), where all sorts of prepared foodstuffs and rancid beer are hurled at the screen, while the twelve perform an unrehearsed dance number to a randomly selected playlist of Zappa tunes.

Anyone found to be sporting rigid ninnies after the dance are paraded in front of the members in a highly ritualized and often disturbing episode of creamed-corn spewing, followed by a free-for-all roto-plooking of any hapless strangers who may have gathered to watch the festivities. Citizens who manage to enjoy the plooking are invited to join cotillion members for lunch at the Zappadan Diner.

A small but highly vocal group of local Encinoans have begun insisting the celebration be moved to neighboring Tarzana, thanks to last year’s accidental spooging of the mayor after he was miss-identified as L. Ron Hoover.

We’re Still Just In It For The Munny

 Posted by at 6:17 PM on December 5, 2010
Dec 052010


Yeah it’s already the second day of ZAPPADAN, and we’re off to a slow start, but then the main reason we do ZAPPADAN in the first place is to slow down enough to realize we’re having a good time.

First thing you should do on ZAPPADAN is reminisce about last year’s awesome ZAPPADAN,  and you can do that best by re-visiting all the little poots we made last year, by typing ZAPPADAN into the little slot to the right of the 200 Motels poster in the picture of Frank with the blender fulla wee wee. . . and that will bring up all the good stuff from the past you’ve already been missing.  And then come back for this year’s greasy stuff, right up to our Zappa birthday Varmitzvuh-looza on the 21st.

Or you can grab some of your favorite vile foamy elixir right now and drink a toast to ZAPPADAN TWENTY TEN, after reciting last year’s slightly adulterated toast. . .

To Frank and the Mothers

You popped up in the mid-sixties
Just when you were supposed to
All grungified and snarky
Freaked out and hungry true

There weren’t no angels singing
There weren’t no pompous cheese
Just a lot of melted plastic
And some dying BRAIN POLICE

Motherly Love will drive you mad
Your groupies scream and cry
Baum didi, baum didi, baum didi baum
You know it’s all a lie

You made us all excited
I was working on my car
I showed you my new gearshift knob
Before you drove us all too far

Been checkin’ out the news
‘Til my eyeballs fail to see
And these troubles have been seeping
Out of every hole in me

So we’re watchin’ and we’re waitin’
And still hopin’ for the best
But when things will really change
Is still anybody’s guess

Now you’re free from all our troubles
And the lameness of this place
Yet our question is the same one—
Do ya have the same old face?

But forget all that, we toast you
With a plastic cup, no less
Yeh we drink a toast to Zappa
We still think  you were the best

Political Pornography

 Posted by at 9:08 AM on August 18, 2010
Aug 182010

Buchanan invokes Godwin’s Law on the Newtster

In a textbook case of the pot calling the kettle black, having professional bigot Pat Buchanan call Gangrene Gingrich “absurd” and “a political opportunist”  for comparing the proposed Park 51 Muslim community center to the Nazis and the Holocaust is like being called ugly by the alien in Predator.

Nonetheless, Buchanan makes a couple of important points about how the political pornography propagated by the Professional Right works.

How do you get more attention than Sarah Palin, who’s very good at this, is to go two steps further. I mean, I think bringing the Nazis into the argument is always absurd in American politics because there is no valid comparison there. And secondly, you know, you bring that in and that’s all we start talking about.

Firstly, like sexual pornography which requires a constant escalation in provocative imagery to keep the brain from getting bored, political pornographers like Sarah Palin and Newt Gingrich have to keep upping the ante to keep their base engaged. IOW, they have to constantly out-crazy each other.

Secondly, even a manufactured controversy like the proposed Muslim community center, once the M$M starts treating it like it’s the most vital  issue confronting the country today, it becomes a self-propagating feedback loop that gets discussed endlessly by every cable news anchor and the punditocracy their networks employ.

So fasten your seat belts– we have nearly another three months of this insanity before the November elections.

There is more stupidity than hydrogen in the universe, and it has a longer shelf life.
—Frank Zappa

The Central Scrrrrewwwwwwwwwwtinizer

 Posted by at 11:35 AM on December 21, 2009
Dec 212009

Zappa was a living, breathing “Expression” Machinery*  **

For my money, or the lack thereof, no Zappa character says Zappa to me like “The Central Scrutinizer,” the narrator on Joe’s Garage (November, 1979). It’s Zappa in snarky hyperbolic perfection, introducing himself as the enforcer of laws that haven’t been passed yet, and the messenger of the dangers of that horrible force called MUSIC. . .  and it wasn’t long before Zappa found himself in front of the US Senate Commerce, Technology, and Transportation committee, where he layed an axe to Tipper Gore’s supple little cranium with this statement:
The PMRC proposal is an ill-conceived piece of nonsense which fails to deliver any real benefits to children, infringes the civil liberties of people who are not children, and promises to keep the courts busy for years dealing with the interpretational and enforcemental problems inherent in the proposal’s design.


It is my understanding that, in law, First Amendment issues are decided with a preference for the least restrictive alternative. In this context, the PMRC’s demands are the equivalent of treating dandruff by decapitation …


The establishment of a rating system, voluntary or otherwise, opens the door to an endless parade of moral quality control programs based on things certain Christians do not like. What if the next bunch of Washington wives demands a large yellow “J” on all material written or performed by Jews, in order to save helpless children from exposure to concealed Zionist doctrine?
Wow;  those were the days. Tipper was co-founder of a “music organization” called the “Parents Music Resource Center.” Their main efforts were directed at removing the (always dangerous) “element of surprise” when buying a record album.  I shit you not.
Anyway.  This is the final day of Zappadan, and our closing salutation to this year’s festivities.  Remember that it’s also the shortest day, and the longest night of the year; make of that what you will. Me, I’ll be diggin’ the longer days today ushers in.  We hope you’ve enjoyed Zappadan ’09, and that you’ll join us right here next year for another foray into the dark underbelly of all things Zappanese. You’ll love it…it’s a way of life.

This – is – The – Cenntralll – Scrrrruuuuuuttiinnizzerr

It is my responsibility to enforce all the laws that haven’t been passed yet.
It is also my responsibility to alert each and every one of you
Continue reading »

Baby Snake Oil Elixir

 Posted by at 9:12 AM on December 15, 2009
Dec 152009

BabySnakeOilsm16 OZ size Elixir, especially handy in the kitchen, garage, and light industry.

Snakes are not my thing. Especially baby snakes, which are impetuous and aggressive, and don’t hesitate to slither right up your fucking nose without an invitation.  So when I first spied me some ZAPPA Baby Snake Oil Elixir on the Automotive Supplies shelf at my local Piggly Squiggly, I was reluctant to make the purchase— even as its zooty allure was wending its way up my nasal cavities, where it stroked my olfactory nerves like a nasty leprechaun.

Examining the bottle more carefully, I realized there was no prescribed usage for the strange elixir, and the bizarre list of ingredients (Sekrit Elixir?) only added to the now palpable desire to get this chunky dark amber liquid home and slather it on some sleazy pancakes, a frozen exhaust header bolt, a wart, a dozen gray attorneys, or even a load of stubborn grass stains.  Maybe this stuff could cure my asthma.  And it wasn’t as easy as you might think to dismiss the notion of drinking the whole damned bottle like sippin’ whiskey.

Baby Snake Oil Elixir (Back)I mean— WTF is “reconstituted toaster poot”??

There’s no way to prove it, but more than likely Zappa’s fertile imagination was fired back in 1956 by the first telecast of the use of a substance like Baby Snake Oil Elixir:

What a World!  What A World!

Was Frank’s whack imagination altered by the effect of the radium pellets up his snout?  Neighborhood Mustard gas poisoning? Who knows.  Whatever the factors responsible for the world of Zappa, one thing is clear, it will continue to inspire artists, musicians, highway patrolmen, Catholic girls, latent appliance fetishists, and the creative imaginations of untold generations, as it reverberates throughout the highly ambient domains of the cosmos like. . . the quivering fringe of a special doily. . . like. . . the secret smut down your cracks. . . like Baby Snake Oil Elixir.


 Posted by at 6:06 AM on December 12, 2009
Dec 122009

Appliantology GroupHonestly?  Appliantologists f’n freak me out. But if they want to celebrate Zappadan, more power to them. Gettin loaded from lft: L. Ron Hoover, Sy Borg, Bick, John Revolta, Tom Krewz, Gionova Ribsissi, Bodhi Dwarfman.
If you want to smell their toast, you must click it.


“How about that? You hold on to the tin cans and then this guy
asks you a bunch of questions, and if you pay enough money you get to join
the master race. How’s that for a religion?”

Frank Zappa,  to a concert audience at the Rockpile, Toronto, May 1969

I LIKE TOAST.  Well, no— I love toast.  But I’m not a “toaster head.” You know—  a little kitchen machinery that you plop a little— or a lot of dough into its metal slit, charge it with some electric mystery mojo, and up pops some half-toasted nonsense about life that is an insult to your meager cosmological coherency.

Frank Zappa leveled some stinging musical satire at The First Church of Appliantology, and never demonstrated much reluctance to share his opinions on churches, politicians, and other self-appointed interpreters of moral turpitude. (Robert Novak, you’re dead now, so stfu.)  The few comments below by Frank, giving over the years here and there, aren’t infallible truths set into stone tablets that are kept in a vault in one of the better neighborhoods of Encino;  they’re just some things he felt and believed. I agree with some of them, and disagree with others, and like him, I’m not shy about spewing my opinions around like creamed corn. . .



“Information doesn’t kill you.”
Frank Zappa, at the Senate Hearing on “Porn Rock”, 1985 during an
exchange with a Born Again Christian

YYYeah, 1984 was still in the air. Reagan told us: It’s morning in America, suckers; better wake the fuck up.


“Yeah, I tell them to change the channel if they see some guy in a brown suit
with a telephone number at the bottom of the screen asking for money.”

Frank Zappa, Senate Hearing on “Porn Rock”, 1985, after being asked by
Tipper Gore if there was anything on TV he didn’t allow his kids to watch



“There is no such thing as a dirty word. Nor is there a word so powerful,
that it’s going to send the listener to the lake of fire upon hearing it.”

Frank Zappa

Upon hearing it, or any other time.  In fact, there is no “lake of fire.”  Just a ridiculous fable that must die a painful and swift death.


The essence of Christianity is told us in the Garden of Eden history. The
fruit that was forbidden was on the Tree of Knowledge. The subtext is, All
the suffering you have is because you wanted to find out what was going on.
You could be in the Garden of Eden if you had just kept your fucking mouth
shut and hadn’t asked any questions.”

Frank Zappa, Interview, Playboy, May 2, 1993

The “essence of Christianity” is not the fabled story of the Garden of Eden; but Frank gets big points for having a bullshit detector in fine working order. The teachings of Jesus are the “essence of Christianity,” and he distilled them into one, simple rule: Do unto others what you would have them do unto you— and on another occasion, two commandments— “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul, with all your mind and with all your strength”;  and the second is like the first:  “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.”

It doesn’t take a musical genius to understand and expose the discredited and outworn mythology surrounding the historical Adam and Eve. Figure it out.  Humans today can’t tell a simple story the same way two weeks running; why does anyone believe that before there was printing, mankind was able to preserve the truth of the Adamic Story for over 37,000 years?

Some days it pisses me off that much of intelligent, clear-thinking contemporary society remains so abysmally ignorant regarding the origins of our planet, of life, of the Universe, of the world of spirit; of the real Adam and Eve; of Jesus Christ, of the Divine.  But the truth is crazy simple: no one can make you do your epistemological home work but you. Consequently, if the growing cultural disaster is to be avoided, certain economic adjustments and social changes are imperative. Or you can start Here.


“My best advice to anyone who wants to raise a happy, mentally healthy child is:
Keep him or her as far away from a church as you can.”

Frank Zappa

Yes, and no.  No, because  “Information doesn’t kill you.” Yes, because the wrong information can get you pretty fucked up; e.g.,__________ (Insert congressional Republican of your choice.) It’s pretty clear that most Judeo-Christian churches— not to mention all others— have serious and varying amounts of erroneous and outdated information circulating like poison through their dogma, the killer of all truth, and they are crumbling before the onslaught of Science and the increasing love of truth aside the observation of fact.  The task for any parent then— and child alike— is learning to tell good from bad, right from wrong, truth from error.


“Anybody hear the great news, today? Jimmy Swaggart under investigation! Oh Ja-eezus! One day every one of those cocksuckers will get caught! I understand in the case of Mr. Swaggart, that he claims that it was not multiple encounters with many prostitutes — apparently, only one sweet young thing. And he did tell Cal Thomas of the Moral Majority that the sex act itself was not fully consummated. However he did admit to doing something por-no-graphic with the girl. Let’s use our imaginations, ladies and gentlemen.
Frank Zappa, opening remarks to “Stink Foot” at the Make A Jazz Noise

Not gonna do it.


“Barry, there is no hell. There is only France.”
Frank Zappa, You Can’t Do That On Stage Anymore

See?  No Hell;  just France.


“If you wind up with a boring, miserable life because you listened to your
mom, your dad, your teacher, your priest or some guy on TV
telling you how to do your shit, then YOU DESERVE IT.”

Frank Zappa, The Real Frank Zappa Book

Well, there it is. Following the wrong information “can get you pretty fucked up.”  And trust me on this:  We are the architects of our own destiny. Take it by the horns, Cleetus.  You will get just what you bargain for, sooner or later.


“The crux of the biscuit is: If it entertains you, fine. Enjoy it. If it
doesn’t, then blow it out your ass. I do it to amuse myself. If I like it, I
release it. If somebody else likes it, that’s a bonus.”

Frank Zappa, interview, Playboy, May 2, 1993

The crux of a bisquit. . . enjoyment. . . or poot vapor. 


**Zappa SmokeFrank Zappa dreamt up the XQJ-37 Nuclear-Powered Pansexual Roto-Plooker.