The highlight of the night had to be when Mr. Zappa invited Albany's finest ladies in attendance to the stage for a dance off. As the beasts hurried down the aisles, many in full stride, I was reminded of a National Geographic program that I once saw where a gaggle of hippos suddenly began porpoising towards a group of unsuspecting Maasai who were fishing in a nearby canoe.
Like the Massai, the faces on each member of the band turned to sheer horror as they watched the stage floor buckling from underneath them and wisely sought cover behind amps, stacks and other large equipment. Unfortunately for them, these mingers were relentless. With tight shirts and jeans barely able to contain the rolling blubber and gunts beneath them, the vixens attacked like dogs in heat. No amount of musicianship was enough to put out the fire.
Realizing what he had done, Mr. Zappa tried to bring a quick end to the song, hoping to quell the stampede, but the ladies were having none of it. They shamelessly groped and prodded the musicians, treating them like donkey show putas in a Tijuana cantina. No orifice was left unprobed.
While I very much enjoyed the spectacle, I am concerned that post traumatic stress disorder may prevent the return of ZPZ anywhere within a 100 miles radius of Albany. If you do return, Mr. Zappa, I hope you have learned a valuable lesson last night - DO NOT MESS WITH WILD ANIMALS!