Tag: cease & desist

Hot Poop Facelift

Remember Ye Olde Hot Poop?

Back when we received the C&D letter from the ZFT last December, Dr Sharl and I jumped through all kinds of loops to come up with an engaging lay-out, while at the same time attempting to appease ZFT’s scum lawyers. It was “panic football”, to be honest.

Well today I’ve fiddled about a bit with the look and feel of this now abandoned weblog — one which, mind you, had been running since July 2001. My aim was to line up its looks a bit more with current KUR aesthetics, while maintaining a feel for why exactly Hot Poop came to be terminated.

I was originally going to make it an all black/white affair, as if you were to be looking at an old family picture. Dr Sharl then came up with the notion of adding some sepia colour. And so here it is.

Hot Poop Sepia

A seven year work of love abandoned, derelict — gone but not forgotten.

Today’s Headline: ZFT vs Arf Society

Der Spiegel, on the day of the ZFT vs Arf Society/Zappanale trial:
Mother Of Intervention: Zappa Festival Defends Itself from… Zappa.

Quoth Goil Zeepee:

“One of the reasons you file a trademark is to protect the works of a person,” Gail Zappa told SPIEGEL ONLINE in a telephone interview. “I felt we were getting into territory where we were putting the audience at risk in terms of who Frank was. You become concerned.”

Thomas Dippel:

Dippel says that the Zappanale has long tried to get the kind of official rubber stamp that Gail Zappa insists is available. He claims that letters have been sent and that Zappanale people even met with Gail in Amsterdam at the beginning of the 1990s. He also says that he invited the Zappa family — including Gail, Dweezil and Moon — to an unveiling of a Zappa statue that now graces Bad Doberan.

Gail — who refers to the statue as an “impish creature” that “doesn’t look like Frank Zappa unless you argue that putting a moustache on any face looks like Frank Zappa” — says that very little communication has taken place with the Zappanale.

I guess you know where our sympathies lie, right?