Appearance Letterman Show 1982. You have to start here to get an idea of what and, above all, who pays the price for genius. The genius, namely Frank Zappa, sits as a casually melted pillar in the chair next to his 14-year-old daughter Moon Unit Zappa in the late-night studio. Until recently, I would probably have written how enchantingly this 14-year-old parries the clumsy attempts of the still young Letterman to make fun of the name Moon Unit: Yes, yes, she would have liked to be called Beauty Heart or Mary in the past, but now she likes her name (Frank Zappa: “The alternative was 'Motorhead'”). How attentively, with her back straight, in a floral shirt and with her short 80s hair, she listens to the presenter Letterman as he asks: “What's he like at home?” I should have ignored the brief pause during which she bit her lower lip and instead written how she says with a dismissive hand gesture: “Oh, you know, just ordinary sadomasochism,” rolls her eyes and then swears: “No, I mean, he's a completely normal guy.” How the dangerously intelligent Frank Zappa grins under his moustache, his mouth twisted into a single black, crooked bar. And asked: How damn cool can a 14-year-old be? And: Sure, what else can you be as the daughter of Frank Zappa?