I was thinking about the past today and Bongo Fury!


and it looked pretty much like the future, without the intelligence, of course, and without some reliable comedy rock and roll groups. So I decided to invade several liberal gated Internet communities and ask them politely to consume feces and expire. It appears to be working.

When I wrote Marvin and the River Pirates in the mid sixties, the hero was Dildo O'Thomas, a deep cover CIA agent who had jumped into meat grinder at a mess tent in Vietnam and became God, or a reasonable facsimile thereof. One of these days I will get around to posted the other 900 pages of that insanely happy horseshit here, without fear of reprisal, considering that all of the stupid assholes I used to care about and who served as role models in that timeless tome are all dead.
Here are the lyrics to Sam with the Showing Scalp Flat Top, from Bongo Fury.
Sam with the showing scalp flat top,
Particular about the point it made.
(I got it . . . )
Why, when I was knee-high to a grasshopper,
This black juice came out on a hard shelled chin.
And they called that 'tobacco juice'.
I used to fiddle with my back feet music for a black onyx.
My entire room absorbed every echo.
The music was . . . thud like.
The music was . . . thud like.
I usually played such things as rough-neck and thug.
Opaque melodies that would bug most people.
Music from the other side of the fence.
A black swan figurine lay on all color lily pads.
On a little conglomeration table of pressed black felt.
With same color shadows, in seamed knobbed knees, and what-nots.
The long hallway rolled out into oddball odd.
Beside the fly-pecked black doorway,
That looked closed on the tar-lattice street.
Up a wrought iron fire escape.
Rolled out a tiny wooden platform with dark, hard, dark rubber wheels.
Roll, skreek! Roll, skreek! Roll, skreek!
Sam with the showing scalp flat top,
Particular about the point it made.
Sam was a BASKET CASE!
A hardened dark ivory clip held . . . saleable everyday pencils.
I wish I had a pair 'o bongos!
Bongo Fury!
Bongo Fury!
Oowwwww! Bongo Fury!
(Boogie!)
Bongo Fury!
Bongo Fury . . .
Bongo Fury . . .
This was Zappa's supreme tribute to the bicentennial of the NOMF. Imagine this for a second: we have much more than a pair of bongos, and they are all yours, voters. You impotent assholes!

Posted: Mon - August 14, 2006 at 09:24 PM          
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