By Brian M. Howle
It’s really amazing to realize that the late, great Frank Zappa – who was so far ahead of his time it’s not even close to being funny – could have envisioned the unfolding of my life, even at this late stage, and had the wherewithall to write a song about it.
Good ol’ Frank and the Mothers of Invention. They cranked out some seriously incredible music, albeit extremely eccentric from time to time (well, more often than not is more like it), and Frank himself was an absolute machine, a prolific writer and artist who churned out an amazing body of work in his all too short lifetime.
But in the last week, I have come to realize that he had the visionary ability to peer into my current situation and assess the total sum of a person who has become a bane on my existence, all at a time where I have attempted – much to the consternation and disapproval of my friends and ex-lovers – to give assistance, service and help to someone who is so self-absorbed, so ungrateful, and so completely unworthy of my friendship and talents that they can be so beautifully nailed in the verse of one of Frank Zappa’s greatest works: “You’re An Asshole,” from the song, “Broken Hearts Are For Assholes.”
Yeah, I know, the song was about a girl, and my subject matter isn’t. But the verse fits perfectly, and I’m sticking with it.
And you know who you are. So does most of Myrtle Beach. Enjoy your free publicity.