Birthplace: Los Angeles, California
Date of Birth: 8/2/1966
What do you get when you combine an ad guy, a true out-of-the-box thinker, and an all-around community diplomat with a part-time shit kicker, solar panel selling, drunk soccer dad??? Perhaps the most level-headed Scotti brother. Enter Frank Scotti. (Please note: I said perhaps).
A true master of creative thought, in his time, Frank has bought it, sold it, or sure as hell thought of it before you did. When not whizbanging, you’ll find him out on his farm, where he raises his two boys, a large crop of lavender, and a bottle of some odd-label booze every day around 4pm (the Golden Hour, as Murray would say).
Frank of course came to the Ranch via the original Scotti, Joseph ("Joe", “Tony”, “Big Tone”, or “Uncle Tony” -- depending upon your relation). As the story goes, shortly after his arrival, Frank developed a terrible discernment between Buck and Spike. Fortunately, he has managed since to contribute to the Ranch in other ways.
You can always count on Frank to take things up a notch. Wanna make some jalapeño poppers? “Well, sh*t, we need to deep fry those!”, Frank would bark. Feeling kinda lethargic? No problem, step out in the parking lot where Frank and Leo hold their annual seminar on how to use a stun gun (ON YOURSELF).
If there was a competition for best hangover – which there really should be, Frank would be a blue-ribbon winner. See, the problem with an ad guy is that they get too creative when making drinks. A true mixologist, second of course to Uncle Glenn, his cocktails are a work of art, and the kind of art not often appreciated by the simpleton. So, back to the hangover: Twas on one sultry August day during deer season a few years back where Frank bested his ownself (you’ve been there too). Nobody really can confirm or deny the actual elixir or quantity consumed that night but all bore witness to the aftermath. Like an Italian Terrorist, the following morning found Frank with his head wrapped in a towel, mumbling, moaning, cursing, and threatening. Very painful to observe. Fortunately, in recent years Frank has leaned to curb this behavior.
A note from the Foreman: "Frank is easy to approach, and whether he knows you are not, he will take the time to engage you in some interesting conversation. Now that all changes if the topic is politics and you are one of his brothers, then all bets are off. The Scotti’s brothers are well known for their art of verbally castrating each other during a heated debate."
In closing, Frank always makes the place a little brighter. And like any Scotti, he wears his heart on his sleeve – still a good thing. Frank, we love you, but never let it go to your head. Just remember, you’re only slightly less f*cked up than your brother.
William III, 7/19/2017
