I took my wife to the airport this morning, and when I got back, there was a phone message, and I have no idea what it is. I’ve played it and replayed it and played it again. The caller sounds like the guy on King of the Hill, the one who mumbles like he has a mouth full of peanut butter when he’s speaking.
I’m hoping that someone here, maybe from Texas, maybe from Mississippi, hell maybe from France, I don’t know — someone who can tie together what I think I’m hearing with what it might really be by some sort of linguistic decryption.
Any and all help will be appreciated. Here is the message as it sounds to me:
This is Bald Jesus. I’m running on a surfing meter out about the mortuary. I’m fitting ago crazy. […laughter…] All the mall hatchet takers and pulled me hem fit. Tim mortar no. Call me back.
*
It is bald Jesus. I slide over in order putting, than surfed to the outside approximately of morgue. Measure on it I have moved [… you laugh… ] all the customers of mail and the hatchet pulled here me recording of the edges. Not. to the mortar of Tim. behind glie calls them.
By the way, the guy you’re referring to from KotH is Boomhouer.
…running on a surfing… = running a survey?
…morter no = …oughta know?
all the mall hatchet takers = all them all agitators?
pulled me hem fit = called me unfit?
running on a = running out of?
“This is Bojangles. I’m slipping around in these dad-gum muckluks(sp?). I’m fixin to go crazy. hehe. All these music playin Alaskans are pullin fits. Tell your mother no; it’s too cold to dance.”
My apologies to whoever (whomever?) wrote “Mr Bojangles.”
This is about Jesus. I’m running a survey, mister, all about the mortuary. I’m fixin’ to go crazy. All the Margaret Thatcher fakers just about caused me to have a fit. They want to know. Call me back.
Note: the first, third, fifth and sixth sentences above are probably right. The others I was just having fun. I have real Deep South experience.
“This is Tom Jeeter. I’m coming out to check your meter on the porch you got there. I’m fixing to go crazy. (laugh) All the ones here are puttin’ me out. Some more than others. Call me back.”
Well, it sort of makes sense. Aren’t all meter readers supposed to be creepy anyway?
“Tim, this is about Jess. I’m calling from a sufficiently stout tree. I’m fixing to go crazy. […(manical)laughter…] Of them all he took care and told me of it…‘Tim ought to know’. Call me back.”
Looks like we’ve been left out of the best part of this conversation.:dubious:
And Tim, who’s Jess?
Hey, I got a call from these mumblemouthed guys about a month ago! They kept on saying “It was time to study the bottle to deal with all the bad things in the world.”
I finally figured out they were Jesus freaks calling from the deep South wanting me to read the Bible. I suspect they’re part of the Branch Davidian revival, because accent-wise, they sound a lot like the followers of David Koresh from Waco.
“This is about Jesus. I’m running a survey, mister, [all?] about the military. I’m fixing to go crazy. [hee hee] All them all agitators gon’ cause me to have a fit. there’s [things? something?] you oughta know. Call me back”
Maybe you should call him back.
(Bald Jesus= cool band name)
This is Alanis. I’m writing a song, mister, about duplicity. I’ve a feeling you can relate. [laughter] Well all the bastard fuckers can play my hit song. You oughta know. Call me back.