“Babbitt”

When it comes to inspiration for up-tempo, groove-a-licious songs, nothing beats the Mid-western stoicism of Sinclair Lewis.  Did anybody else notice that I managed to use four, count them, four hyphens in that last sentence? If I was going to be so stubborn as to write a song based on a Lewis novel, then how about using something violent and over the top? Like “Kingsblood Royal.” That’s a cool book. I could have written a riveting account of race in America based on the melodramatic treatment Mr. Lewis gave it back in the 1940’s. I could draw upon my vast catalog of personal injustices. I guess I could go do it right now. I do have a keyboard in here…and a rhyming dictionary (shhh…speak not of this most secret of weapons!).

[Minutes later] Nothing. Sorry. 

This is the mixed blessing of living in the richest country during the most bountiful age in all of recorded history: the only strife on which I can wax at any length, in song form or any other, is why does carnival food taste so good but cause such intestinal distress? And what are the ingredients in shampoo? Can I make it at home? And is arson ever the answer?

“We’re So Happy, We’re Going to Pee in Your Pants”

I was in an uncustomarily introspective mood, drinking a warmish Red Stripe and watching “Jack Van Impe Presents” which are, by the way, my favorite beer and my favorite show about the end of the world, when I begin to think about turns of phrase that we grow so used to that we don’t even think about them anymore. I had heard earlier in the day from Crazy Work Release Bob that the phrase “the whole nine yards” had originated from WWII B-17 gunners. When they used their whole thingie of bullets they had used the whole nine yards. Who knew that bullet thingies were produced in nine-yard increments? Obviously, Crazy Work Release Bob did. After mulling over a few, I came across, “I was so happy, I almost peed my pants.” 

Now I have never been so brimming with ebullient mirth that it has caused momentary incontinence. I have been so nervous that a trickle may have escaped once (and maybe that one time was just before the curtain rose for our first show at the 1st Ave main room. Thank God and whoever is the patron saint of the black pant). But I have never been so happy as to lose control.

Bare with me, because this is somewhat uncomfortable. I want you to really think hard about all of the things that would have to happen in order for this song title to come true. First of all, something wonderful would have to happen, for instance, the birth of a child, the arrival of the current month’s “Atlantic Monthly,” or having been gifted a magically regenerating bacon cheeseburger. Secondly, somebody else would have to be present who was either as equally excited about this wonderful turn your life has taken or somebody who is open-minded and understanding. Thirdly, you and this other person would need to either be somewhere private or have absolutely no inhibitions whatsoever. Fourth – you would have had to have ingested fluids fairly recently. Fifth – both you and your partner would have to, at the very least, unzip your pants. If you are a female, I’m guessing you would have to remove your pants or employ a contraption. Sixth – you would need to hope that joy would overpower stage fright and then actually urinate in your partner’s pants.

There is another option I had not thought of until now. You could sneak into somebody’s house when they are at work, find a pair of his or her pants and soil them at your leisure. That would be easiest.

 Obvious exceptions to this are Baudelaire’s “Fleurs du Mal,” The Book of Job, and anything by Elie Wiesel (that guy cracks me up!).

 The answers to the questions posed in the last paragraph are as follows: 1.) a. Most are deep-fried, b.) I have no gall bladder 2.) It depends on the shampoo, but in my case the answer is Fragrance(s)/perfume(s), Sodium citrate (Trisodium citrate), Citric acid, Benzyl alcohol, Monoethanolamine, Sodium benzoate, Glycol distearate, FD&C (or D&C) Yellow #5, Ammonium lauryl sulfate, Methylisothiazolinone, FD&C Blue #1, Sodium chloride, Water, Dimethicone, Zinc pyrithione, Methylchloroisothiazolinone, Ammonium xylenesulfonate, Ammonium laureth sulfate, Cetyl alcohol, Cocamide, Guar hydroxypropyltrimonium chloride, Decene, homopolymer, hydrogenated, and – my personal favorite -- Trimethylolpropane tricaprylate/tricaprate. And yes, I can make it at home. 3.) Yes, but only after you have given teamwork, diplomacy, and turning-the-other-cheek the necessary lip service.

 I shall use “thingie” instead of the proper terminology. I don’t know the correct word and by looking it up and then using it, I feel as if I would be living a lie. The men and women who bravely defend our country would know what this thingie is called, but I am not one of them and I would not want to intimate that I am a part of that world. I deeply respect anybody who has been in the service, because I know that I probably could not do it. I could if the situation resembled that of the movie “Red Dawn,” but let’s be real – that’s not going to happen for at least another ten or fifteen years and by then I’ll just be a brain floating in a cask of nutrient-rich fluid, with my own reality show titled, “Jeff Nelson’s Brain Will Kick Your Ass at Sudoku.” 

 Preferably by Sir Ian McKellan wearing a sable-trimmed cape.