Friday
Thursday
Why, I had no idea.... HAPPY ZAPPADAN!!!
Zappadan is an annual blogswarm for Frank Zappa. Mister Zappa died on December 4, and his birthday was December 22. We bloggers celebrate the life, political philosophy, and music, of Frank Zappa from December 4-22. See ristocrats.blogspot.com for more info.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
This article is about the Zapptist celebration during the opening of Zappadan.
The first (or 17th) day of Zappadan was originally known as Enttäuschung Nacht - German for 'bummer night' - but over the years it has been Americanized to the much simpler BummerNacht. This being the anniversary of Mister Zappa's death, the original meaning is rather obvious, and we shall not delve further into it here.
Far from being a day of mourning, however, it is a day of great joy, for Zapptists known that a mere seventeen days later, on December 21st (Zero Day), Frank Zappa was born.
Traditionally, children are not allowed to participate in the celebration of BummerNacht, although teenagers are winked at if they decide to 'run down to the library and not return until some ungodly hour of the night'. Celebrants are often seen cavorting to the exotic sound of the Mystery Horn while gorging on burnt weenie sandwiches and guzzling white port and lemon juice.
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
This article is about the Zapptist celebration during the opening of Zappadan.
The first (or 17th) day of Zappadan was originally known as Enttäuschung Nacht - German for 'bummer night' - but over the years it has been Americanized to the much simpler BummerNacht. This being the anniversary of Mister Zappa's death, the original meaning is rather obvious, and we shall not delve further into it here.
Far from being a day of mourning, however, it is a day of great joy, for Zapptists known that a mere seventeen days later, on December 21st (Zero Day), Frank Zappa was born.
Traditionally, children are not allowed to participate in the celebration of BummerNacht, although teenagers are winked at if they decide to 'run down to the library and not return until some ungodly hour of the night'. Celebrants are often seen cavorting to the exotic sound of the Mystery Horn while gorging on burnt weenie sandwiches and guzzling white port and lemon juice.
Monday
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Monday
Thursday
Tom Waits » Bad Liver And A Broken Heart (In Lowell)
Well I got a bad liver and broken heart, yeah,
I drunk me a river since you tore me apart
And I don't have a drinking problem, 'cept when I can't get a drink
And I wish you'd a-known her, we were quite a pair,
She was sharp as a razor and soft as a prayer
So welcome to the continuing saga, she was my better half, and I was just a dog
And so here am I slumped, I've been chipped and I've been chumped on my stool
So buy this fool some spirits and libations, it's these railroad station bars
And all these conductors and porters, and I'm all out of quarters
And this epitaph is the aftermath, yeah I choose my path, hey, come on, Kath,
He's a lawyer, he ain't the one for ya
No, the moon ain't romantic, it's intimidating as hell,
And some guy's trying to sell me a watch
And so I'll meet you at the bottom of a bottle of bargain Scotch
I got me a bottle and a dream, it's so maudlin it seems,
You can name your poison, go on ahead and make some noise
I ain't sentimental, this ain't a purchase, it's a rental, and it's purgatory,
And hey, what's your story, well I don't even care
'Cause I got my own double-cross to bear
And I'll see your Red Label, and I'll raise you one more,
And you can pour me a cab, I just can't drink no more,
'Cause it don't douse the flames that are started by dames,
It ain't like asbestos
It don't do nothing but rest us assured,
And substantiate the rumors that you've heard
I drunk me a river since you tore me apart
And I don't have a drinking problem, 'cept when I can't get a drink
And I wish you'd a-known her, we were quite a pair,
She was sharp as a razor and soft as a prayer
So welcome to the continuing saga, she was my better half, and I was just a dog
And so here am I slumped, I've been chipped and I've been chumped on my stool
So buy this fool some spirits and libations, it's these railroad station bars
And all these conductors and porters, and I'm all out of quarters
And this epitaph is the aftermath, yeah I choose my path, hey, come on, Kath,
He's a lawyer, he ain't the one for ya
No, the moon ain't romantic, it's intimidating as hell,
And some guy's trying to sell me a watch
And so I'll meet you at the bottom of a bottle of bargain Scotch
I got me a bottle and a dream, it's so maudlin it seems,
You can name your poison, go on ahead and make some noise
I ain't sentimental, this ain't a purchase, it's a rental, and it's purgatory,
And hey, what's your story, well I don't even care
'Cause I got my own double-cross to bear
And I'll see your Red Label, and I'll raise you one more,
And you can pour me a cab, I just can't drink no more,
'Cause it don't douse the flames that are started by dames,
It ain't like asbestos
It don't do nothing but rest us assured,
And substantiate the rumors that you've heard
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