neil diamond cover artist at bella luna

"Better a diamond with a flaw than a pebble without." ~Confucius

Once upon a time there was a man named Diamond. Then there came a man named Cubic Zirconia and he was almost the same. This is a Neil Diamond impersonator (with poor lighting) impersonating over at a little place called the Bella Luna. Beautiful moon, she is.

Jack Johnson's "To The Sea"

"Pictures of people taking pictures of people taking pictures of people taking pictures." ~Jack Johnson

I am live reviewing the Jack Johnson album, To The Sea. First listen, first impressions and all that. Partially to prove this isn’t just going to be a music video section, we’ve got class around here and can totally write words about sounds. I am not certain this is in the same track order as on the album so I’m including the number indicating the order I’m listening and the title of the track. I’m rating each song on the scale of J-Nelsons. If you’re unfamiliar with this scale, consult a scientist, they ought to be able to better inform you of the J-Nelson scale.

1. You and Your Heart – It’s a nice way to start off an album, gets the listener right into the thick of things with the gentle but slightly twangy riffs on the guitar. Johnson’s voice always has that “hey I’ve been loafing at the beach all day” kind of tone and it jibes fairly well with the melody on this song. I’m a fan already of this track. He says that we shouldn’t feel so far from our hearts and I kind of think that’s a nice little line to throw in. In a way, listen to your heart. As I near the end of the song I’m finally able to place what the music sounds like. If you listened to any of the songs off Johnson’s Curious George soundtrack, this tune would fit right in and I think it might have been a leftover. 4/5 J-Nelsons
2. To The Sea – This is the title track and it’s more of an homage to the older Johnson that first turned me into a fan. It’s that chilled out, slow beat, stoner song to play for a happy day at the beach smoking your reefers and jazz cigarettes and throwing the old Frisbee around. It’s generally a hippy dippy diddly type of stoner jam. 3.5/5 J-Nelsons
3. No Good With Faces – He says he’s no good with faces and he’s bad with names. I’m good with faces but terrible with names. I default to giving people nicknames because I can’t remember their names. One thing I have noticed is that if it’s a pretty gal and I want to make the sex with her, I tend to remember all kinds of details, including the name. I think it’s just because I normally don’t care about most stuff and I feel that new people are either generally boring or I want to have sex with them. This song feels like a “Banana Pancakes” kind of tune but it’s got a sadness to the lyrics. I think there comes a time in every man’s life where he becomes aware that he’s aging and time will run out sooner or later. 3/5 J-Nelsons
4. At or With Me – This is an up-beat stoner anthem song. “Are they laughing at or with me?” I always ask that and the answer is always “who cares?” and the tone of the song seems to show off the same mentality. Times are tough and Johnson gives us this bubbly “hey brother, don’t worry about it, it’ll be all right” tune. I can imagine playing this somewhere while slow cruising a neighborhood hollering at some fly honeys. 4.5/5 J-Nelsons
5. When I Look Up – My first impression with the faint female backing vocal and the bells is church music. It’s ok but it seems like a filler/goofy/oddball track. It’s a poem he put music to and you can clearly tell. Most songs are kind of like that but this goes above and beyond, like a jazz night song at the local hipster coffee shop. 1/5 J-Nelsons
6. From the Clouds – This is more of a head-bobber than a toe tapper, solid nonetheless. A little more electrical on the riffs than I like in most of my Jack Johnson songs but the beat keeps me listening. Again, this song feels like a happy-go-lucky track to listen to while wearing a yellow suit and chasing a monkey. It’s a love ballad though, sure and certain, Mr. Johnson has a lot of love to give, or so it would seem from his songs. Listening to this you just know he wrote it with one special lady in mind. He’s such a romantic. 4/5 J-Nelsons
7. My Little Girl – Another love song. A stoner/surfer slow jam to put on when you and your hippy lady are going to go and make the sexy times. I want to light some candles and break out the boxed wine just listening to his smooth voice crooning at me right now. I’m not even embarrassed to say I’m getting a little aroused. This is not a jam to play when your mother is around because this song means business, and by business, I mean the sexy kind. Definitely 5/5 J-Nelsons
8. Turn Your Love – Jack Johnson could get boy band level ass if he wanted to. This is just a slow jam; it’d be perfect around a campfire. Enjoying some warm drinks and toasted marshmallows would be the an excellent accompaniment. I get an image of a fall evening, just starting to get the fire going as the sun sets and dusk rolls through to the darker night sky. Maybe get a friend, lady or gentleman if that’s your thing, and get this whole album and toss it in the stereo for a campfire romance or just a cool, chill, getting stoned kind of evening. 4.5/5 J-Nelsons
9. The Upsetter – Immediately sense a kind of reggae influence, maybe there’s a steel drum in there somewhere and that’s what I’m picking up. After the intro it kind of melts into a more traditional kind of Johnson tune but the underlying “tonk tonk tonk” makes this more of a beach song. A pig roast might be happening somewhere off in the distance and the smell would waft over to the little beach party this song makes me imagine. 2.5/5 J-Nelsons
10. Pictures of People Taking Pictures – Aside from an entirely too meta title, the song itself is a slower repetitive, slightly funky jam. If it had a quicker tempo I might really get into this jam, as is, the lyrics are kind of fun to say and decidedly self-referential but alas, it’s not that great. 2/5 J-Nelsons
11. Anything but the Truth – This song is to be played in all coffee houses in all of the world. It’s a wonderfully metaphorically lyrical little diddy but I can’t imagine this really being played in any situation other than while enjoying a cup of coffee looking out the window on a rainy day. Slow and smooth, enjoy it over a huge mug of tea or black coffee. Put some ice in the coffee though because they normally serve those too hot and anything too hot just wouldn’t sip too well with this jam. Make sure you watch the people as this song plays, it’s a very walking paced song, if that makes sense. 3.5/5 J-Nelsons
12. Only The Ocean – Too electric for the intro. Once the reverb or whatever gets turned down for the first verse, it’s not so bad. It’s another slow song, one of the slowest yet and it sounds like another one of those love songs he’s so well known for. A woman rolls over you and pulls you in, just like the old ocean. She’s not salty like the sea, she’s sweet like sugar cane. She’s a tempting mistress and easy to fall into or in love with, at least this is what I’d imagine he’s trying to say in this song. 4/5 J-Nelsons

In summary, I’d acquire this album if you like to jam out to some sweet stoner love songs and beach music or campfire tunes. It’s a good album for a fall evening and yes, I am missing the Red Wine, Mistakes, Mythology track and it sounds like it might have been the coolest on the album. I was sad about that. Overall, Jack Johnson’s To The Sea gets 3.45/5 J-Nelsons

calm like a bomb

"All of civility depends on being able to contain the rage of individuals." ~Joshua Lederberg

Cover artist doing his best (poorly lit) Rage Against the Machine impression.

spacepimpin' with hometown charm

"Not from successful love alone,
Nor wealth, nor honor'd middle age, nor victories of politics or war;
But as life wanes, and all the turbulent passions calm,
As gorgeous, vapory, silent hues cover the evening sky,
As softness, fulness, rest, suffuse the frame, like freshier, balmier air,
As the days take on a mellower light, and the apple at last hangs
    really finish'd and indolent-ripe on the tree,
Then for the teeming quietest, happiest days of all!
The brooding and blissful halcyon days!" ~Walt Whitman

The SpacePimps's video for "2003" is seen here below. If you haven't heard of them you should have a listen and take a gander. This video IS Pittsburgh. It's art and music in synergy for your for all your 'Burgh desires. A Part of the Plan Productions always give it four-one-too much for your video needs:

childish gambino ROUNDUP

"Mashup roundups are the wave of the future." ~Javier Nelson

It's time again for another one of those wonderful human endeavors: the roundup. You see, mashup roundups are the wave of the future and we're all about the future here at Javier Nelson dot com. This is not so much a mashup roundup as it is a "heads up". Childish Gambino AKA Donald Glover (no relation) of Community fame is the freshest hotness in hip hop in the ENTIRE world! Right now, anyway. Refute the claim, I dare you. I'm going to need empirical evidence for your refutation though as I'm about to provide you with the empirical evidence of why you ought to be listening to (and going to the concerts of/by) Childish Gambino.

First documented evidence is in the form of a mashup, naturally:

Childish Gambino vs. Joker - Bonfire Vision (lobsterdust mashup)

No video as of yet, that must be a too fresh track for a video. Hopefully you heard it hear first, because the funny isn't all we're ahead of the game with. Check out the original Childish Gambino Bonfire:

The video is nuts. Plain and simple. There's nothing about this that makes me think Mr. Glover and myself aren't on the same page as far as reasonable (or rational) crazy goes.


Here's the obligatory "slow jam" (because he made it retarded), Heartbeat scroll down further and click the next video if you're scared.

As one scours the interwebs for music, one often encounters garbage or something they think may be a scam. I encountered this "gem" while searching for sources to embed to for this post. You're experiencing a very meta moment right now as you read this and I embed the following "raw mash" or "freestyle" I think they may call it. I mean, he's rapping over Grizzly Bear, after all:

Obviously (or not) the video itself is not the primary motivating factor here on how I "share" things, and since I'm a n00b when it comes to copyright infringement (or not), only embed what I can and don't evaluate the video itself (for the most part). Even though I did earlier when I said Mr. Glover (no relation) was crazy like me, I don't try to. One other thing, we end sentences with prepositions around here whenever we want to. Finally, and because I don't want to take up too much of your time, we have my final piece of evidence for the rightful claim of "king" for this "n00b":

"The joke is 'I got flow'" - Childish Gambino

multiple directions (one direction mashups)

"I never have any problem getting enthusiastic with a good song and a good band." ~Waylon Jennings

I have been ignoring "boy bands" most of my "adult" life and right now I can't for the life of me discover why. I think One Direction is a boy band (possibly a christian one?) from what I've been able to gather from a cursory glance around the youTubes. The only reason I mention them is because of this "gem", a SoundOfFaz One Direction versus Jessie J mashup, Beautiful Domino:

And oh no, it doesn't stop there, read more about the wonders of One Direction mashups below:


This next is another SoundOfFaz mashed potato dinner, you get it with all the fixings when Katy Perry chimes in for Friday Makes You Beautiful:

Next up is a really fresh and fun dubstep remix that's not so bad for any summer mix tape:

And finally, for those of you that want a more traditional kind of hipster cover:

(Drumz)

some songs that I used to know (gotye mashups)

"Children seem naturally drawn to poetry - it's some combination of the rhyme, rhythm, and the words themselves." ~Jack Prelutsky

This is Gotye's Somebody That I Used to Know. It's an all right song, if you like to feel like you're in a high school auditorium's xylophone jam band session with the creepy gym teacher crooning without clothes on in the video and the sultry lunch lady singing back up. I'm putting good stuff after the jump, so only jump if you're feeling like getting your ears sexed up. Otherwise, settle for this simple tune:

Creepy, strange, and eerie. It'd be much better if someone maybe sped up the tempo...

Granted: the video isn't as "art-house" as the first but this is a hot mash. Almost as hot of a mash as thewick is a hot mess.

This next one is a better version than the original but it's a fledgling attempt at a "true" mashup, one that's fully integrated. But hey, Florence + The Machine = damn fine. This one has the best video, by far, second best audio:

And last, and most absolutely not least is my favorite by far. Ignore the bieber hair cut on the fella (I'm assuming) crooning, but enjoy the perfection of an original work of art through combination and collaboration, kind of like this website...

 
Give your ears a break, it may have been the first time in a while they've "made love" instead of just jumping into the sexy times. Read one of those stories ticking by on the right, seriously, over there ---> and up a bit ^ or just visit www.javiernelson.com

edit/addition (by reader suggestion):

how to dougie (scholarly reviewed version)

"Doug E. Fresh taught me how to dougie" -Javier Nelson

That's the official version of Cali Swag District's Teach Me How to Dougie. I am not an honest person and admit I lied when I said I learned to dougie from THE dougie. I still don't know how to dougie, I'm as white as a polar bear. Come on now. I do know that this song basically sucks. The video is worse and I'm sorry for including it but I need a point of reference for our scholarly beginnings. It kind of makes me feel like I'm on a boat about to get sea sick. Listing back and forth like a drunken sailor with some type of mental illness, off their medication. It's basically awful. "Read more" for better videos and the rest of the study.

Here's A Whole Lotta Extra Dougie. Courtesy of Dj Lobsterdust. Thank god for mashups. You can actually dougie to this song, dance, and revolt! (This is my favorite and will be yours as well by the end, I am sure of this, I included it here for reasons you will discover below)

In addition to that, to keep it light and keep you on that rollercoaster adventure for your ears: A WAY better version of Cali Swag's "official" video:

As you can see, we have video evidence of more of the history of this strange modern phenomena. 

And this modern "how to" that's just terrible with a capital tyrannosaurus T. 

Simply awful. And white boys get made fun of for dancing, my vapors are rising.

Hipsters, I don't have anything too fly for your white boy style yet, but here's a postal service one that's not the worst. 

Next is a kind of dirty house version, keep in mind that these are all improvements on the original cali swag garbage that's on the radio. Think of it as just a rawer version of a dance house dougie mix.

Finally, we have the "Official Remix" and I expected better from Jermaine Dupri but alas, this is what we get:

Not a strong showing on the field today and this is some of the better stuff out there. If you've got some of your own dougie'ing videos, post in the comments section.

beautiful gossamer-winged creatures

A few years ago I was driving on a toll road racing towards I don't even remember. It was dark but everything could be clearly seen by light of the almost full moon. The clear night was perfectly warm and my stereo was pumping. I was probably listening to some alt.band that I thought was going to be the next big thing, but I know it was loud. That's how I do things in my car.

Smoking cigarettes and turning the volume up to annoying levels is what passengers get when they ride with me. I remember the night because I was late for whatever plans had been laid for the evening. This didn't bother me so much as it gave me an excuse to drive recklessly fast on the interstate. Passing cars to the left, to the right. I didn't care, I was moving.

There's no deep and hard to read foreshadowing necessary, I was pulled over by a trooper. As he walked to my car the anxiety built up and quickly turned to a kind of fear. The butterflies in my stomach seemed to have grew to twice their normal size and wingspan. Flapping around more like bats than beautiful gossamer-winged creatures.

Before the policeman can get to my car and try and blind me with his maglite, I always do a once-over. Asking myself "Any alcohol in the car?" No. Ok. "Any drugs in the car?" No. Good. "Any dead hookers or small children tied up in the trunk?" And I chuckle slightly only to ominously answer myself "Wouldn't you like to know..."

There are none of these things, yet I still worry about them every time I deal with the police. It's like I know I'm guilty of much more than I'm currently being charged with yet I'm getting off easy. I know there are certain rules that should be followed when you are being pulled over, for police safety or whatever. I just don't know what they are. Plus, I'm a white kid. Grew up in the burbs. Just barely an adult. Just barely a functional human being away from home. Hell I don't even vote now, let alone 5 years ago.

That thought actually went through my head. As if somehow this police officer would take offense that an 18 year old kid didn't vote. My window was down because it was such a nice night so I heard him crunching the gravel as he got closer to my car.

In the movies they always make it so that whoever is pulled over is more pissed that it happened to them than anything else. I was scared for no reason other than this being my first traffic violation. The worst part about the whole ordeal was the police lights he kept on for the duration of the event. They would shine ever so brightly directly into my rear view mirror. I'd move it and then I would get smacked in the face with the lights reflected in my side mirror. Then the other side mirror. If I moved my head the rear view mirror would get me again. Those bastard state troopers sure know how to mind fuck someone.

Cop - "Do you know how fast you were going back there, son?"
Me - "Well, I was going a little over the speed limit, but there was that truck I needed to pass..."
Cop - "Yeeaahh. I need to see your license and registration ... blah blah blah ... No surprises if I run your license, I assume?"

What a dick. What a stupid lie. There were no trucks and I'm sure he's heard that one about a thousand times. I wondered what he would have done if I broke down in tears and begged him not to give me the ticket. Would he have capitulated? Succumbed to my will, all because I turned on the waterworks? Probably not. I can't imagine that it's particularly pleasant to see a big kid burst into tears over something so trivial as a ticket. Though it did end up being almost 200 dollars. I was going a little fast.

As he was walking back to my car, which took forever, I briefly danced with the idea of killing this guy. I had a bat lodged between the bottom of my seat and the door frame. If I could somehow distract him, I'd knock him out and then scatter his brains on the asphalt. No one would see, they'd be driving past too fast to see anything. I'd smash the camera in his cruiser and then I'd torch the whole thing with him inside.

Cop - "I need you to sign here. Try and stay within the posted speed limits next time"
Me - "uhh. Yes sir"

I totally bitched out. As I was pulling away I realized that he would have already ran my license plate as he pulled me over. Those bastards are so sneaky.

let the mashups hit the floor

"As I type this I'm listening to mashups themed by 'Queen', it's a much better investment of your time" -J.Nelson

One of my favorite (and also one of the most romantic) songs ever is by the Drowning Pool, it's called Bodies:

I am fairly certain (without watching it) that is a Bodies video to 300 scenes. That sounds pretty awesome to me, but don't take my word for it...

Next we have the very first mashup of this post, an 'I know you haven't heard it because it has 269 views on the youtubes' kind of mash:

I liked it most out of the 'garbage' swill on the eastern end of 'what's hot on the youtubes' section of the interwebz that I frequent.

This is my favorite of the bunch today, Uprising Bodies by Dan Mei. It's drowning pool meets Taio Cruz, I think. If that means anything to you, you've already hit play. If it doesn't, I suggest you do on the following.

Lastly (but not leastly!) is Bad Things Will Roll With the Devil and it's more like a super dance mix than mashup but still worth it because of its thematic relevance to the current post you're reading.

I included the original even though that mashup does have a better video because this one links directly to the artist's channel so it's more legit in a mostly non-legitimate post.

who invited the red hot chili peppers?

Seriously, they're at Austin City Limits this year and I just found out they're playing Bonnaroo too. Whoever is the puppet master of that "come back" or "re-introduction to relevancy" is some sort of evil mastermind. I shudder at the thought of how truly nefarious this individual or shadowy cabal must be because it's 2012, not the 1990's and yet somehow, in some way, the Chili Peppers continue to trundle on. They're like a "pre-burned-out" version of the Rolling Stones, except terrible. They are like some sort of mythical creature that can only die if you cut its head off and separate it from the rest of the body and burn everything.




Ah, so that's much better. Before I worked myself into a frenzy of confusion over this whole "rotten peppers from the back of the vegetable drawer problem", I managed to find the above link. Young The Giant is also playing at Bonnaroo. The XX is a brit-pop kind of sensation that treads water somewhere in the back of a playlist or another I've assembled over the past couple years and are also worth a listen.



After that slight bit of introduction, I'd like to get into the real "ill-gritty" of the relevancy from earlier: Young The Giant's "remix" site. They offer stems (partial tracks, basically but with separated "sounds") for download so that any old asshole can "add their vision" to the tracks. A wonderful idea that I think was originally conceived of by those other brit-poppers, Radiohead. For their In Colours album, I could be wrong about that but I didn't bother to look into it very thoroughly because it's not that important. The above example is a great one from this type of "any asshole can join in" mentality and it works, sometimes it does not. For instance when Colbie Caillat, whose name happens to be ridiculous to spell, somehow gets involved:

I can't say for sure if I hate that or like it but here's another one, a DeadMau5/Hybrid/Young the Giant mash:

Oh, and by the way, I'd recommend taking some sort of hallucinogens before listening to those last two. Pretend like you're at Bonnaroo and go nuts. They're much better, cleaner and more palatable when you do imbibe. Or so I've heard.

Before I leave you broken, empty and wanting a refund, I'll finish off tonight's post with a mystery embed:

a post for the ladies

You need to watch this now, wherever you are. Play it outloud. Share it with your friends.



You're welcome and I'd like to send a big thank you to Brian McKnight for this song as well as a shout out to all you ladies out there.

call me maybe to arms

This is a call to arms to anyone out there willing to hook a mash-up. Perhaps you've heard the delicate symphony they call Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen. Yes, this is a real person and no, as far as I can tell she does not hail from Appalachia. Strange with a name like that, I know. Here's the original:



It's tastefully "pop" regardless of your personal feelings on the matter, credit needs given where credit is due and this is a "pop-gem", like a ring pop. Also, she really kind of "works it" in this video, so keep it in your pants until we're done here, please. Unfortunately though, there is not a single "worthy" mashup for this yet. That surprised me because it would appear that this song is perfect for that treatment. Maybe this young lady, with her wide set eyes and ill-bred hoodlum looking attitude, isn't right for the "masher" community but I think it's a perfect jam for that. I was able to find one semi-"noteworthy" mashup and you can:

(read more after the break) Or just watch the following:



Yes, I have a perpetual crush on Ke$ha. She's my kind of girl, quit spilling your hater-ade, someone's gonna slip and fall.

watch the wire (again if you already did)

This is not the usual kibbles and bits of what I tend to put here but I suppose it's in the same range (typing this as I recall the earlier posts about Carly Rae Jepsen and those little gay boys, first direction or whatever) as the rest. I share this today because I think the fella what sings this tune looks like Chuck Norris, if he were funky and cool. So, kind of like a Chuck 2.0 or the beta test depending on how you want to look at it. Oh but you won't be disappointed.

Also, it's the tune they play at the end of the first season of the Wire, which I happen to be re-watching now (or trying to) and blithely skipping season two!

mashups (because it's been awhile)

K.I.S.S.

Comments/judgments in the comment area - this will have no commentary aside from this.

(G3rst - Pumped Up Baby)

Dj Lobsterdust - Maybe We Found Love

(The Reborn Identity - This Charming Video Game)

(DJs From Mars - DJ Got Us Falling In Hot Stuff)

southern rock and hip hop

Are two things the whites have more or less re-appropriated from the blacks. Here's the best amalgamation of the two some uber white fella could come up with:

White people steal things, that is all I have to say about the matter.

in the garden of your mind

"You can grow ideas in the garden of your mind" - Fred Rogers




Normally, I hate autotuned anything except for phat beats, of course. However, the PBS digital studios's "Garden of your mind" is my new favorite auto-tuner/auto-tuned EVERYTHING.

dueling dieters

A few years ago I decided it was time to "ship up or shape out", as they say. I would eventually go on to do both of those things and the more colloquially accepted "shape up or ship out" as well. The first phase of that plan was to get on a diet and exercise plan. After a few months of this, I was pretty successful in achieving my goals. I won't get into the specifics about that here because that's not what this story is about, this story is about my mail-man.

When I was younger, fresh out of college, I lived and worked in a cemetery. Yes, there are plenty of other tales from the crypts that I could share, but this one is short and sweet, more or less. While living on the grounds, you get to know a lot of the folks that visit. After all, their loved ones are literally buried in your backyard. The most frequent visitor (and the most frequent to most establishments) is always the post-man. Our postal worker for the better part of the two years I worked there was a fella by the name of Greg.

Greg was a very congenial person and also a bit of a "bullshitter". He was the type you hate to hate. He always meant well and he was such a nice guy, I had trouble telling him to shut up. I learned later that was a blessing in disguise because he would always come up with a quick one-liner or dirty joke when he brought the mail. If your mail starts coming with a dirty joke or two every day, you really start to appreciate the post office a little more. Here's a conversation between myself and Greg:

Greg - How's it going today? Any fresh arrivals?

Javier - Not today partner, got anything good for me?

Greg - Got you some DVDs and a couple bills.

Javier - How about you hold on to those bills and I'll take the Netflix, we can call it a day, eh?

Greg - You know I can't do that, but hey, I've been meaning to say. You're looking pretty good these days.

Javier - Whoa now, slow it down partner. You gotta take me out, wine me and dine me at least a little before you get any of these goodies. I'm no dime store whore, you know that.

Greg - No, no, I mean I've noticed you lost a few pounds, looking good.

Javier - Thanks for noticing. I still feel like you're hitting on me a bit.

Greg - Maybe I am, maybe I'm not. What's your secret though?

Javier - Clean living with a clear conscience, what's yours? No, I'm kidding. I drink a lot of water, stay away from the sweets, eat a lot of vegetables, and it doesn't hurt that I'm running about 15 miles a week.

Greg - I'm too old for that shit. You ever hear about that "Alli" stuff?

Javier - Yeah but this is working just fine and I'm not trying to catch any hidden cancer popping those pills or whatever they got in those things.

Greg - Well, my old lady started me on them and my neighbor was over that day and he's a real competitive sonovabitch so he asks me if I want to put money on which of us will lose the most weight. I figured hey, I've got more TO lose so I ought to have this in the bag. Hell yeah I took that bet.

Javier - Good thinking man, it's definitely easier to lose weight when you've got more of it to burn. So what, you want some pointers or something?

Greg - No, no, I'm fine on the diet. I learned the hard way how and what to eat. Those damn pills make me shit my pants if I eat too much fatty stuff. Shit myself out at dinner with the old lady the first week, I was not going to let that happen again. What if it happened while I'm out delivering mail?

Javier - I guess it'd be a tough sell for the mail man to walk up to a house and say "Hey, let me use your bathroom real quick, just shit my pants"

Greg - My thoughts exactly! Anyhow, I tell him this and I'm all embarrassed when I start in with this story. I mean, my old lady gave me hell on the whole car ride home, it was embarrassing. He stops me right when I mentioned going out to dinner and says to me "Whoa, Greg, I know where this story is heading, you shit yourself didn't you?"

Javier - Well at least it wasn't as embarrassing as you thought, he probably did the same thing.

Greg - Yes and no, and this is where it gets good. This nasty sonovabitch next door, he tells me "Greg, you can't worry about that kind of thing. That's the bad stuff getting out of you, that's proof you're losing weight." So I ask him how often it happens and he says "Greg, I've been shitting myself basically everyday since we started. It's more like a shart anyways so it's not that big a deal. Most of the time I make it to the bathroom, the rest of the time I'm just glad I have a washing machine."

Javier Nelson

dead baby conversation

(00:45:10) dalaiTony: yo dude
(00:45:16) dalaiTony: what's funnier than a dead baby?
(00:45:18) Peter: wat up
(00:45:25) Peter: 10 dead babies
(00:45:26) dalaiTony: a dead baby in a clown costume
(00:45:33) Peter: haha
(00:45:36) Peter: now thats funny
(00:45:41) dalaiTony: a dead baby sitting next to a kid with downs syndrome
(00:45:56) dalaiTony: how do you know when a baby is a dead baby?
(00:45:56) Peter: in clown costumes
(00:46:01) dalaiTony: the dog plays with it more
(00:46:20) Peter: whats more fun than nailing a baby to a fence post
(00:46:28) dalaiTony: whats the difference between a dead baby and a trampoline?
(00:46:30) dalaiTony: i dunno
(00:46:39) Peter: ripping it off
(00:46:41) dalaiTony: but when you jump on a trampoline you normally take your boots off
(00:47:05) dalaiTony: why are test tube babies the most beautiful ones?
(00:47:09) dalaiTony: because they're hand made
(00:47:16) Peter: haha
(00:47:23) dalaiTony: what's brown and gurgles?
(00:47:27) dalaiTony: a dead baby in a casserole
(00:47:48) dalaiTony: how do you stop a baby from crawling around in circles on the floor?
(00:47:56) dalaiTony: nail its other hand to the floor
(00:48:16) Peter: what do you call 10 dead babies
(00:48:27) dalaiTony: house paint?
(00:48:35) Peter: early thanksgiving
(00:48:40) dalaiTony: well, actually it depends on how hard you throw them
(00:48:43) Peter: what do you call 10 dead black people
(00:48:47) dalaiTony: i dunno
(00:48:50) Peter: a good start
(00:48:54) dalaiTony: haha
(00:49:36) dalaiTony: how do you get 100 dead babies into a bucket?
(00:49:43) dalaiTony: with a blender. how do you get them out again?
(00:49:46) dalaiTony: with tortilla chips!
(00:50:20) dalaiTony: but why do you stick a baby in a blender feet first?
(00:50:28) dalaiTony: to see the expression on its face, of course
(00:50:44) dalaiTony: what does a baby and a pinto have in common?
(00:50:50) dalaiTony: both fun to ride until they die
(00:51:12) dalaiTony: whats the difference between a truck full of bowling balls and a truck full of dead babies?
(00:51:26) dalaiTony: you cant unload the truck full of bowling balls with a pitchfork
(00:51:59) dalaiTony: whats the difference between a dead baby and a peanut butter cup?
(00:52:06) dalaiTony: the dead baby wont stick to the roof of your mouth
(00:52:18) dalaiTony: why didnt they crucify baby jesus?
(00:52:24) dalaiTony: naw, i dont know why either
(00:52:46) dalaiTony: whats the difference between a dead baby and my girlfriend?
(00:52:52) dalaiTony: i dont kiss my girlfriend after sex
(00:53:11) dalaiTony: whats the difference betwen a grandmother and a baby?
(00:53:21) dalaiTony: grandmothers dont die when you fuck em in the ass
(00:53:41) dalaiTony: whats worse than a dead baby in a trashcan/
(00:53:47) dalaiTony: a traschcan in a dead baby
(00:54:06) dalaiTony: how many dead babies can fit in a barrel?
(00:54:10) dalaiTony: 4 and a half
(00:54:27) dalaiTony: what goes plop plop fizz fizz?
(00:54:31) dalaiTony: twins in an acid bath
(00:54:47) dalaiTony: oh, what is red and creeps up your leg?
(00:54:51) dalaiTony: a homesick abortion
(00:55:25) dalaiTony: what can a blind, deaf, quadraplegic baby get for christmas?
(00:55:27) dalaiTony: cancer
(00:55:57) dalaiTony: whats worse than smoking pot with a baby?
(00:56:02) dalaiTony: making a bong out of it
(00:56:21) dalaiTony: difference btwn dead baby and styrofoam cup?
(00:56:35) dalaiTony: dead baby doesnt harm atmosphere when you burn it
(00:57:49) dalaiTony: red and bubbly and scratches at the window before exploding?
(00:57:54) dalaiTony: baby in a microwave
(00:58:10) dalaiTony: whats grosser than gross?
(00:58:20) dalaiTony: a garbage can full of dead babies
(00:58:24) dalaiTony: whats grosser than that?
(00:58:30) dalaiTony: the one at the bottom is still alive
(00:58:34) dalaiTony: whats grosser than that?
(00:58:39) dalaiTony: he has to eat his way to freedom
(00:58:43) dalaiTony: whats grosser than that?
(00:58:47) dalaiTony: he goes back for seconds
(00:59:17) dalaiTony: whats harder to do than nailing a dead baby to a tree?
(00:59:25) dalaiTony: nailing it to a dead puppy
(00:59:47) dalaiTony: what do you get when you cut a baby?
(00:59:50) dalaiTony: an erection
(01:00:43) dalaiTony: how do you make a dead baby float?
(01:00:49) dalaiTony: add two scoops of ice cream
(01:02:01) dalaiTony: ok im spent
(01:02:47) Peter: I printed that out
(01:02:53) dalaiTony: hahahaha

death and the salesmen (conclusion)

“Hey navigator?” Bill asked as sarcastically as his frustration would allow without making him sound angry. “You solve this riddle yet?”

Bill and Dean made it to the right exit on the interstate, but somewhere between there and their current location, they made a series of wrong turns. Dean had long since given up on his paperwork. He was more concerned at that point with his “hot date” and his tyranny over the airwaves.

Dean didn't bother responding to Bill's antagonism. They were at the point in the trip where each was blaming the other for their misfortune, not bothering to remember that it was a combination of bad directions from the navigator and slow reactions from the driver that had forced them on their detour.

“And I'm really getting sick of this music. I swear that last song was about some woman planning to murder her boyfriend with a shotgun. C'mon man, cut me a break with this already. I'd rather just turn it off. I have a headache, uh, from this cold I've been fighting off all morning. We could listen to anything else. Easy listening? No one can hate that, they play that in nursing homes and doctors offices, those people are hurting all the time and they listen to it.”

Bill's pleading was getting him nowhere. He knew the argument had devolved at some point, he knew it back at what he thought was that last wrong turn. It was no longer an argument over a music station or whether or not Dean's woman belonged on the runway or in the pasture, it was a proxy war that both young men were using to fight their own frustration with their circumstances. They'd been driving for twice as long as it should have taken and their destination was still nowhere in sight. The argument was about to get ugly and Bill wasn't enthused.

Dean frowned as he looked over at Bill and said “Everybody at work knows that you're not sick. You're just hungover. You drink too much and we're not changing the station. This is easy enough to listen to and I don't really give a damn if your head hurts. No one forces you to drink like you do.” He rubbed his eyes and let out a deep sigh before continuing “I just want to find this place and get home.”

Bill slammed on the brakes and made a hard, fast turn into the driveway on his right. In his haste he only managed to get most of the van into the drive. “What was the house number again? No, check the paper your Dad gave you.” Bill was nearly yelling at Dean.

Dean, not wanting to question his suddenly aggressive co-worker, rifled through the paperwork he'd been carrying and said “I've checked this a dozen times. It says '121'. We're looking for '121 Chestnut Avenue'.”

Pointing to a house about 30 yards down the street in the direction they had just been driving, Bill asked “Are you sure it's not a '5'? As in '151 Chestnut'? Because that house is 151 Chestnut and we've driven past it a dozen times already. Let me see that damn paper.” He grabbed at the directions and continued “You're killing me, Dean. This clearly says '151', we could have been on our way back right now if you could just read a set of directions. What the hell's the matter with you?”

Dean defended himself as best he could by saying “No, if you're right about the house number then you can't blame me for it. It's my Dad's fault for his sloppy handwriting.”

Putting the van in reverse, Bill jumped on the gas and spun his tired in the wet ground just next to the driveway for a few seconds as he turned around and they headed back towards the house in question.

Bill said “At this point I don't even care if that's the right place. I'm knocking on their door. Whoever answers is bound to know if they have any dead bodies lying around. We'll just take whatever they got.”

Bill turned the wheel and coasted the van to a stop at the bottom of the driveway of 151 Chestnut Avenue. He hopped out and his foot landed in a sizable puddle in the muddy looking gravel the van was parked on. Dodging a second puddle with a spring in his step because he thought he was so close to having this nightmare morning over with, Bill reached out and rang the bell. He shivered while he was waiting, and thought that winter seemed to be coming early, and of course, the cold drizzle he was standing in did nothing to help make him feel warmer.

A man finally answered the door, just as Dean was stepping onto the landing. Dean said “Perfect timing, as usual.” and jumped right into his 'salesman' mode. John Walder Sr. had instilled in his son from a very young age that he should always treat customers with the utmost care. Dean took to this idea like a fish to water, while just a few minutes earlier he was surly, Bill watched as Dean was nothing but sweet and caring in front of this man. Sweet and caring and within 15 seconds of meeting this guy Dean was already making suggestions for the funeral, expensive suggestions. Straight to business, as usual.

Dean's salesman mode was another point of contention between he and Bill. The latter always saying “Those people have to hate the shit out of you. You kiss their ass and then dump a huge bill in their laps for all the death accessories and death services. Have some shame, man. Not everything is about dollars and cents.”

Upon hearing this, Dean would invariably reply with “That's where you're wrong, Billy, that's where you're wrong.” Then, in just the same patronizing way his old man did, Dean would give him a pat on the back.

The morning had dragged along at a snail's pace and Bill wasn't in the mood for Dean's duplicity. He shook his head and muttered “Dick head” under his breath.

Dean and the customer, Victor, stopped and looked at Bill. Dean asked “What did you just call me?” His eyes flaring, all that frustration from earlier clearly bubbling just under the surface.

“Nothing, just a cough. Told you I was catching a cold.” Bill said, as he coughed a few times, pretending to be clearing his throat. He hadn't intended for anyone to hear that. Sometimes Bill's habit of expressing himself under his breath got louder than he wanted. It was just his way of releasing some tension without actually hurting any feelings. Occasionally though, his habit became a passive aggressive assault on the world.

Victor, the grieving son, said “I feel so terrible about not finding her until last night. I was supposed to take her to the store the other day but I had to call and cancel because my daughter was sick. I called the day after that and she didn't answer but I thought maybe she was next door, she's good friends with the neighbor. But oh, oh I called last night and I called and called again and she didn't answer and wasn't returning the calls and I just feel so terrible.” Victor was overflowing with guilt.

This was the third time he told Dean how bad he felt. The first was on the landing, while Bill and Dean were still standing in the rain. Bill wasn't interested in the story that time, or the second time he told it just as soon as they had stepped inside. The only reason Bill's attention was caught this time was because Victor added “I just want to make sure I do whatever it takes for her now, while I still can.”

With a glance around the house, Bill knew that last comment meant Victor was looking to spend that guilt away. Dean's old man was right, thought Bill, this guy is going to spend whatever he can. Guilty and grieving, never a healthy combination. The neighborhood was nice enough to let your mother live out her days in, but she had an entire house full of new stuff. A brand new set of kitchen appliances were spread across the larger than average kitchen area. There was a huge flat screen television in the living room with a comfortable looking couch to the left and a recliner perched in front, clearly Victor's favorite spot whenever he was visiting because he was in his 60's, so his mother must have been ancient. She was certainly too old to appreciate an HDTV, her eyes were probably shot to hell. Bill was angry when he thought about how this old lady had the luxury of high definition while he had to sit at home in squalor and watch everything in regular definition.

As they followed Victor through the house to the sitting room where his mother was waiting for her last road trip, Bill thought about how pathetic Victor seemed. It was clear that he didn't spend a lot of time with his mother, he just bought her things. The brand new kitchen set had dust on it and the television was most likely only turned on when Victor came over. He bought her stuff to fill her house that she didn't need or didn't use, stuff that he wanted for himself, never bothering to think about what his mother wanted. What she wanted was his time. Either Victor couldn't understand that or he didn't want to give her any. He hoped he could buy her off, but Bill could see what the old bat had really wanted, just as if she'd told him herself. He could see all this because they didn't find her in the room with all the comfortable chairs and wide screen TV, but in a small study room with one window letting the early afternoon sun illuminate a handful of pictures on the desk. They looked to be of Victor and what must have been his wife and children. Victor was his mother's only son, at least the only son she had pictures of in her house, and Bill and Dean found her seated in a rocking chair, those pictures probably one of the last things she ever saw.

“Oh Christ, she's been sitting like that for a day and a half?” Bill asked angrily.

Eric, shifting his weight back and forth from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable with the phrasing and tone of the question, replied “Yeah, that's what the paramedic told me.”

Dean began to explain, “This type of thing happens all the time. I'm sure your mother died peacefully, you don't need to feel bad. Bill's just worried because rigor mortis has set in and the tissues and tendons won't relax quite right. Since your mom's been in that position for that long, she's uh, stiffened up a bit.”

As Bill and Dean began putting on their latex gloves, Victor asked “So, uh, what's that mean for me?” Clearly wondering whether this new revelation should make him feel any more guilt. Asking, in effect, “Should I spend more money?”

Dean, being the consummate salesman and understanding the hidden message, reassured his customer with “Oh Vic, there's no need to worry about anything, we'll have her looking as pretty as she did ten years ago by the time of the viewing at the funeral home. We'll take care of this, no problem. Now, actually, if you'll excuse us we can take care of everything else, if uh, maybe you wanted to go collect any jewelry or personal items you'd like her to have.” However, Dean's tone didn't have the same level of assurance that his words did. He knew that this woman was about as stiff as she was going to get, stuck in that position for the ride home.

Victor finally got the hint that he should make himself scarce and said “Yeah, there's a beautiful necklace that I bought her a couple years ago. I was looking for it when you got here, I'll get back to that.”

As soon as he thought Victor was out of earshot, Bill said “This is bullshit, you know that right? That guy must have told your old man this old witch was in a rocking chair when she kicked it. He sent us on a dummy mission. Why didn't he tell us she's been stiffening up in a rocking chair for the past 36 hours? We have to take her back like this, arms and legs up in the air like that the whole ride home, ridiculous.”

“Yeah, I know, but at least the windows are tinted. You got legs this time” said Dean, as he went around and put his gloved hands under her shoulders so they could haul her out to the van.

Navigating their way around the desk next to the door, the woman's outstretched right arm (which looked more like a claw with that particular bend of her fingers) knocked into the lamp. It teetered as the shade was pushed out of proper alignment.

Laughing, Bill said “Hey Dean, this cheap bitch is still trying to turn the lights off when she leaves the room. She's been dead for days and still worried about the light bill.”

They made their way through the rest of the house without any further events. As they neared the door, Dean said “Set her down Bill, we have to cover her up before we go outside, she looks like a prop from a zombie movie.”

Bill laughed, dipped his head down near the old woman's outstretched claw and said “Hope she doesn't eat my brains!”

As they stepped outside a gust of wind blew up and nearly ripped the sheet off the old lady. While they were inside, the weather had only gotten worse. Bill didn't like the drizzle while he was waiting for the door on the way in, but he decided he hated the cold drops falling down on his way out.

“Quit worrying about your shoes getting muddy and hurry it up Dean! It's colder than a miner's asshole out here” said Bill, as he hopped left to avoid the puddle that got him earlier. Following, and without a good view of where he was placing his feet, Dean shouted “Shit! My shoe's all wet now!”

Bill reached out and opened the back door as he carefully balanced their package with his other arm and the side of the van. Once the door was opened, they had no problem pushing the old woman in on the specially designed rollers. Bill loved those casket rollers, if he didn't tie down whatever cargo he was hauling, he could get it to roll back and forth if he pumped the pedals. This time though, Bill made sure the old woman was tied down tight and the rollers locked.

“Finally! But now by the time we get back it's going to be almost dinner time. And my foot is cold, and wet. Come on Bill, let's get going.” Dean whined, already in the passenger seat.

“I am, don't worry. I want to get out of here just as much as you. This was a terrible trip, ghoulish.” said Bill as he jumped into the driver's seat and turned the key. He shifted into gear and put his foot on the gas pedal and the tires spun and spun in the gravelly mud.

Both Bill and Dean sat looking at each other, neither saying a word. The only sound in the van was the country station DJ saying “We're gonna get right back to you good folks out there with nothing but the country hits right after we pay some bills.” At least he's honest, thought Bill.


**********


Two and a half hours later the tow truck driver finished hitching the van (half-covered in a murky brownish mixture of mud and gravel pieces from the failed attempts at freeing itself) to his truck and pulled it safely back on the road. Once they were out of the driveway, Dean signed some papers for the truck driver before they were able to finally start on their way home.

“It's not my fault, it's your dad's, for being such a cheap son of a bitch and not buying an SUV for this kind of stuff. Every other funeral home has a Suburban or a Tahoe or something, and all those vehicles have four-wheel drive.” Bill continued “What's this Windstar got? No balls, that's for sure.”

“If you'd payed any attention before you parked in that swamp, we'd be home by now.” Dean said as he reached in his pocket for his phone. His battery had to be getting low, thought Bill, because Dean had been on the phone non-stop calling first his father, then the tow truck company, his father again, the tow truck company a second time because he forgot the name of their company, his father a third time, and finally his 'hot date', explaining that he might not make it in time. He stayed on with his lady friend for the majority of the time spent waiting for the tow truck and it was only a few minutes before help arrived that the argument over who was at fault began.

“I don't care, blame me then. I'm getting tired and I'm hungry like the wolf.” said Bill “I'm pulling in to the next place with a drive-thru that I can find.”

Though they hadn't been driving for very long, the sheet being used to cover Victor's mother had slowly worked itself off of her posing limbs and into a ball on her torso. Her body was still in the night-gown and position they found her in, but lying on her back, uncovered. She looked more like an overturned turtle. Only this terrapin wasn't flailing its legs to try and right itself. It sat in the back gently swaying as the van took the turns and inclines in that hilly region of Pennsylvania. If either Bill or Dean would have looked back at the corpse, they would have been reminded how terrible their day had gone. Neither looked back, consequently, when Bill pulled the van up to the drive through window to pick up their order, he was greeted with a warm smile that turned into a scream instead of any fast food delights.

“Oh. My. God.” the girl finally managed to choke out after a few long seconds. “Is that a dead person? Oh my god.” she repeated. In her defense, she was clearly not expecting to see any corpses driving through the window during her shift, especially not one striking a pose like Victor's mom.

“Yes, that's a corpse. People die, all right? Get over it.” then, realizing that statement in no way explained why he was driving around with a corpse in the back seat, continued “I work for a funeral home, it's fine. Please, just don't scream at me again.” Bill told the girl, as Dean hurried to adjust their parcel's sheet.

After parking the car Bill took a big swallow of milkshake and rubbed his forehead. “Maybe we should have gone in and eaten. At least that way I wouldn't have had my ears assaulted by that burger flipping bitch.” he suggested.

Dean, choking on his food as he started to laugh, said “No way man, with how this day's been going for us, someone would have looked in the window and seen a dead woman in a van that's half covered in mud. They'd call the police and say someone's been out robbing graves.”

Bill laughed and said “Dean, that's a good point. You know, you're not so bad sometimes.”

“That's the nicest back-handed compliment I've gotten all day!” Dean said sarcastically. “But seriously, this old lady is starting to give me the creeps. I think she might be cursed or something. And she really does look creepy. If I were that girl at the window I might have screamed too. It's funny too, looks like she's sitting in a phantom rocking chair!” Dean laughed at his own joke.

“And you just proved why I only said you're not so bad sometimes.” said Bill. “But do you think you can drive the rest of the way? I did an awful lot of driving around in circles this morning and I'm really tired.” Bill laughed. “Hungover, whatever.”

“Uh, actually, I still have some paperwork to finish going over.” Dean paused, thinking for a moment, he said “No, I changed my mind. I can drive. My dad can finish his own damn paperwork if he wants it finished. I think you might be right about him, Billy, he is kind of a dick. He could have checked his own paperwork, but no, he didn't. He told me to do it and to go to East Jesus, PA and fetch a cursed corpse while he sat around playing solitaire all day.”

“Awesome. Thanks pal. Hey where are you taking that date of yours later? It's only a little after seven, you still have plenty of time to get ready. Maybe if I can get my nap-on, I'll swing by there for drinks tonight.” Bill said “Maybe I'll see for myself what this beast-piece looks like.”

Dean, surprisingly smiled at Bill's joke. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Bill thought that maybe Dean was starting to not take everything so seriously. Bill adjusted his seat and was asleep within minutes, to a song playing on the station Dean claimed was his favorite. He remembered thinking “This song is good. I'm surprised.” just before he fell asleep.

“I knew he was going to pass right out” Dean said as soon as he heard Bill's gentle snores. “He drinks too much.” Dean never thought it was strange that he talked to corpses. It had something to do with the amount of time he'd spent around dead people. Growing up, Dean was always more interested in his dad's business affairs than the other children his age.

Dean normally kept his conversations with the departed short and sweet, with a quaint phrase or two, and only when he thought no one else could hear him. He made sure to keep this conversation short though, not because he thought Bill could hear him, but because he wasn't kidding when he said the old woman was creeping him out.

He wasn't superstitious or a big believer in anything supernatural, but there was something in the way the headlights from the car behind him played with the shadow of the woman's hand. It drifted back and forth across his rear view mirror and it was starting to get to him. He turned the music up hoping that it would somehow take his mind off the corpse and his nightmare day.

It didn't work. The van lurched in a pothole and Dean thought he saw the hand move, but he reassured himself that the worse of the day was over, yet he couldn't stop looking at that hand in the mirror. The tips of the fingers looked pointed as they played in the shadows, but the fingers themselves curled slightly in towards her palm. It was as if she were trying to grab on to whatever good luck was left in their day and take it with her to the next world.

They were almost home, only about 5 miles from the Walder Funeral Home Inc. when Bill finally woke up. Sleeping in a moving vehicle never agreed with him so Bill stretched his arms out wide to try and get the kink out of his shoulder. He brushed the back of Dean's head as he stretched.

Dean, meanwhile, had not been paying attention to his living passenger, just the dead one in the back. He had been fixated on the shadows and the headlights behind him, so when a strange hand brushed the back of his neck, Dean screamed and his face went white with fear. He instinctively swerved to pull the car off the road, but he swerved too hard and sailed straight off the road, finally coming to a stop a few feet from an ancient looking oak tree with the wheels buried in the wet soil.

Dean realized just a few seconds too late that the hand brushing against his neck was just Bill. He realized the hand was Bill's right before he realized that they were going to have to call the a tow truck again and explain everything to his Dad. Dean looked in the mirror again and saw that hand, it didn't look as ominous now. It looked more like the old lady was finally waving goodbye, she'd let loose the last of her curse and was finally ready to leave.

As he was trying to figure out what had just happened, Bill heard the DJ on the radio saying “This is the last song I'll be playing for you tonight. I'm signing off, but DJ Cowboy Jimmy's in the studio and he'll play you through the rest of the night.”