Frank The Seal

Phil sent me this link. So I made a seal, I call it "Frank the Seal."

This is in conjunction with a letter that my Dad wrote to Rolling Stone Magazine. I think it's a good letter, it spotlights my Dad's unhuman ear for music (the way noone else I know can hear it) and brings up a good point; I can read all about Jessica Simpsons failing music carrer at the supper market cashier line - there's no need for it RS. Here's his letter:

A Reader's Zappa plays Zappa in Albuquerque Concert Review to Rolling Stone

Dear David,
I always enjoy your writing and taste for the obscure or not so mainstream music articles. Last night I went to see Zappa plays Zappa and I really think it would be worth checking out and expose a new genaration(s) to this amazing tour. All I can say is that I was as floored as with any of Frank's concerts I ever saw.

He would have been proud of Dweezil given the fact that except for one special guest, the legendary Ray White, all the musicians were new to the scene and most seemed in their 20's or early 30's with only the second guitar looking older. All of them phenomenal. Given the enormous task to pull this off, it was not about Dweezil but about the music. He's a superb guitar player (Frank+ Vai+ Restrain= Dweezil), an effective bandleader (mutual respect and love in the band radiates from the stage) and close with the audience.

Even Frank himself was present a few times with the aid of old video footage and tight coordination, the band was playing back-up, with Frank playing and singing, including a guitar duet, Dweezil/ Frank. The concert lasted almost 3 hours spanning from the well known to the early stuff, Absolutly free to one from Jazz from hell. When given the chance, the mixed aged audience gave a loud standing ovation each time, normally saved to demand an encore.

So I ask, can you spare some Rolling Stone space?

Thanks for your time,
William Rotsaert

Note: I'm not affiliated with anything related to the Zappas, only my ears are.

A few things

1. Whos the Techie that coined "three red lights of death"? I'm going to kill them. On a side note; Dan, I blam you for these three red lights.


2. The Corrado is in pieces for a major revamp after the head gasket blew. Here's my turbo next to a Chevy Impala - man its big (thats what she said) (the turbo, not the Impala).

"Uggggghhhhhh, not guilty."

While in Municipal Traffic Court dealing with a minute traffic citation (operating a vehicle in the state of Michigan as a Michigan resident with New Mexico plates) I shared the company of, dare I say – some pretty sketch homies.

Best of all was the guy in front of me, an older man somewhere around the age of 40. He was wearing a well worn tan colored suit coat over a greasy dark blue button up shirt, with tattered and lightly stained blue jeans that came down just over of his tan leather work boots. His gray hair was parted neatly to the side – in stark contrast to a scruffy mid-length beard. Think Hobo with Combed Hair (HCH).

When called to the bench the Judge asked HCH:

“You’ve been cited for urinating on an officer, how do you plead?”

How the hell does one even begin to go about urinating on an officer, let alone getting close enough with your pants down? HCH paused, clearly thinking hard about what his plea would be.

“Ugh, guilty.”

The Judge leaned in a little closer.

“You realize that if you plead guilty you will be taken to jail? Also, you realize that Officer [average last name] is not present to defend this unusual citation.”

To which HCH (this was awesome) said:

“Uggggghhhhhh, not guilty.”

“Dismissed.”

I was less lucky, just over a hundred dollar fine. Ouch. I should have pleaded uggggghhhhhhh not guilty!

A Word about Michigan Drivers

As an outsider, unaccustomed to the driving habits of my new state, I have a few observations. I’m constantly in shock when it comes to my interaction with other drivers. Michiganders like it fast, impatient, and fast.

In Michigan there’s no such thing as partial throttle off the line at an intersection. It’s balls out or get out of the way. I’ve been passed in the median, on the shoulder (you name it) before I can even make it through the intersection – only because I babied it a little off the line. I love fuckin with people though – I’ll take off a little slowly and then accelerate in front of them before they can get all the way around me (median, shoulder, or otherwise). “Opps, sorry didn’t see you there trying to get around me while I negotiate the death holes (aka pot holes).”

In Michigan, every one drives in excess of the posted speed limit some times doubling or even tripling it. Grandma in the Buick has more donkeys packed in her trunk than she has grandkids – and you thought you hauled ass. I’d have no problem with this (I love a good top speed run on the way to work in the morning) except for the fact that Grandma and company know they’re haulin, so they all line up behind each other in the left lane, bumper to bumper, slowing them selves down, and leaving the right lane empty except for me and a few others (probably also from out of state). It’s a cluster fuck if anyone from the right lane thinks they might try their hand at moving into the left lane to pass a slower moving truck or delivery vehicle.

In Michigan, freeway driving is the opposite of California. Instead of speed up, on the cell phone, brake hard, complete stop, speed up; it’s more like speed up, try to instigate a race with the car next to you, no brakes, squeeze in to a hole in the lane next to you, speed up.

As an outsider, unaccustomed to the driving habits of my new state, I vow to pick up as little of these bad habits as I have to so as not to cause an accident.

When hidden camera goes wrong (In het Nederlands)

Even if you dont understand it, try to sit through it. WOW.



[there might be a loose traslation/summry here at a later time, drunky, time to bed.]