Hubby's brother is in town. He's camping in our driveway. This is his second visit to the Happy Boondocks. Last time he was here, he earned the moniker "Jesus Bill".
Bill says whatever he wants. Bill pretty much DOES whatever he wants. So, for example, he'll sit in a minivan full of the Sons and discuss his opinions on abortion, the Iraq war, Jennifer Love Hewitt's breasts, and intestinal mucus. His opinions are predictable and outlandish, and he brooks no disagreement. He also will not refrain from airing those opinions, loudly and at length, no matter what.
Last time he was here, Hubby and I were constantly trying to get him to mellow out on the inappropriate language and subject matter, while around the Sons. We were totally ineffective.
Every time he'd start, I'd either send the Sons to another room for some trumped-up chore, or start babbling about whatever came to mind, just to redirect the conversation. I am not very good at conversation redirection, so I end up sounding like an idiot who can't stop talking about trivial crap. I must really be making an impression, with the inlaws.
Hubby, on the other hand, would whip his head around to his brother and say, "JESUS, BILL, the boys are right here!"
And so, a nickname is born. All hail "Jesus Bill".