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[Hamster]

Klick hier

[Hollowpoint]

KLASSE!!!

Einfach köstlich!

Das ist eines meiner Lieblingslieder von "Weird Al"!

GRUß

[Gast klausp]

"Trigger Happy"

Got an AK-47, well you know it makes me feel alright

Got an Uzi by my pillow, helps me sleep a little better at night

There's no feeling any greter

Than to shoot first and ask questions later

Now I'm trigger happy, trigger happy every day

Well, you can't take my guns away, I got a constitutional right

Yeah, I gotta be ready if the Commies attack us tonight

I'll blow their brains out with my Smith and Wesson

That ought to teach them all a darn good lesson

Now I'm trigger happy, trigger happy every day

(Oh yeah, I'm)trigger, trigger happy

Yes I'm trigger, trigger happy

(Oh baby, I'm)trigger, trigger happy

Yes I'm trigger, trigger happy

(Oh I'm so)trigger, trigger happy

Yes I'm trigger, trigger happy

Better watch out, punk, or I'm gonna have to blow you away

Oh, I accidently shot daddy last night in the den

I mistook him in the dark for a drug-crazed Nazi again

Now why'd you have to get so mad?

It was just a lousy flesh wound, Dad

You know, I'm trigger happy, trigger happy every day

Oh, I still haven't figured out the safety on my rifle yet

Little Fluffy took a round, better take him to the vet

I filled that kitty cat so full of lead

We'll have to use him for a pencil instead

Well, I'm so trigger happy, trigger happy every day

(Oh yeah, I'm)trigger, trigger happy

Yes I'm trigger, trigger happy

(Oh baby, I'm)trigger, trigger happy

Yes I'm trigger, trigger happy

(Oh I'm so)trigger, trigger happy

Yes I'm trigger, trigger happy

Better watch out, punk, or I'm gonna have to blow you away

Come on and grab your ammo

What have you got to lose?

We'll all get liquored up

And shoot at anything that moves

Got a brand new semi-automatic weapon with a laser sight

Oh, I'm prayin' somebody tries to break in here tonight

I always keep a Magnum in my trunk

You better ask yourself, do you feel lucky, punk?

Because I'm trigger happy, trigger happy every day

(Oh yeah, I'm)trigger, trigger happy

Yes I'm trigger, trigger happy

(Oh baby, I'm)trigger, trigger happy

Yes I'm trigger, trigger happy

(Oh I'm so)trigger, trigger happy

Yes I'm trigger, trigger happy

Better watch out, punk, or I'm gonna have to blow you away

[Trooper]

Grmpf... du weißt schon, daß Mr. Yankovich das nicht so wie du gemeint hat?

[Mausebaer]

Ach,

wie ärgerlich für Al so missverstanden zu werden.

[Hollowpoint]

Niemand weiß so ganz genau, wie Al seine Songs tatsächlich meint. Vermutlich noch nicht mal er selbst! Nicht umsonst heißt er ja "WEIRD" Al Yankovic.

GRUß

[Mausebaer]

Antwort auf:

---

Niemand weiß so ganz genau, wie Al seine Songs tatsächlich meint. Vermutlich noch nicht mal er selbst! Nicht umsonst heißt er ja

"WEIRD"

Al Yankovic.

GRUß

---

Solange er nicht auf'm Stand kommt, während ich Aufsicht habe...

[Carsten]

Wo ich das gerade gehört habe... kennt heir jemand den Film "Top Secret" mit Val Kilmer? Denke schon, zumindest die wenigen hier, die "Das Leben des Brian" kennen (Frische Otternasen! Wolfszitzenchips...!!".

Im Filmanfang klettern ein paar Bekloppte mit Flinten auf Surfbretter und versuchen, Surfen und Skeet miteinander zu verbinden. Im Hintergrund spielt das Lied "Skeet surfin´in the USA"... weiss jemand, wo´s das zum Download gibt??

[Hollowpoint]

Hier noch ein schöner Song mit Waffenbezug von Al:

THE NIGHT SANTA WENT CRAZY

Down in the workshop all the elves were makin' toys

For the good Gentile girls and the good Gentile boys

When the boss busted in, nearly scared 'em half to death

Had a rifle in his hands and cheap whiskey on his breath

From his beard to his boots he was covered with ammo

Like a big fat drunk disgruntled Yuletide Rambo

And he smiled and said, with a twinkle in his eye,

"Merry Christmas to all, now you're all gonna die!"

The night Santa went crazy

The night St. Nick went insane

Realized he'd been gettin' a raw deal

Something finally must have snapped in his brain

Well, the workshop is gone now, he decided to bomb it

Everywhere you'll find pieces of Cupid and Comet

And he tied up his helpers and he held the elves hostage

And he ground up poor Rudolph into reindeer sausage

He got Dancer and Prancer with an old German Luger

And he slashed up Dasher just like Freddie Krueger

And he picked up a flamethrower and barbecued Blitzen

And he took a big bite and said, "It tastes just like chicken!"

The night Santa went crazy

The night Kris Kringle went nuts

Now you can't hardly walk around the North Pole

Without steppin' in reindeer guts

There's the National Guard and the F. B. I.

There's a van from the Eyewitness News

And helicopters circlin' 'round in the sky

And the bullets are flyin', the body count's risin'

And everyone's dyin' to know, oh Santa, why?

My my my my my my

You used to be such a jolly guy

Yes, Virginia, now Santa's doing time

In a federal prison for his infamous crime

Hey, little friend, now don't you cry no more tears

He'll be out with good behavior in 700 more years

But now Vixen's in therapy and Donner's still nervous

And the elves all got jobs working for the postal service

And they say Mrs. Claus, she's on the phone every night

With her lawyer negotiating the movie rights

They're talkin 'bout the night Santa went crazy

The night St. Nicholas flipped

Broke his back for some milk and cookies

Sounds to me like he was tired of gettin' gypped

Wo, the night Santa went crazy

The night St. Nick went insane

Realized he'd been gettin' a raw deal

Something finally must have snapped in his brain

Wo, something finally must have snapped in his brain

Tell ya, something finally must have snapped... in his brain

GRUß

[Hollowpoint]

Meinst Du DAS hier, Carsten?

SKEET SURFIN'

Skeet Surfin'

Skeet Surfin'

If everybody had a 12-gauge

And a surfboard too

You'd see 'em shootin' and surfin'

From here to Malibu

Because it's totally bitchin'

Ridin' wave to blast the pigeons

And it's so neat shootin' skeets

While you're riding out the heavies all day

First wave, don't get tired

Second wave, aim higher

Third wave, pull and fire

Skeet Surfin', it's alright

We're waxin' down our surfboards

And loadin' up our traps

Tell the teachers we're shootin'

We're never coming back

I've got a gun rack in my Chevy

For when the surf and the flak get heavy

And we'll have fun with our guns

'Till our lifeguard takes our ammo away

First wave, don't get tired

Second wave, aim higher

Third wave, pull and fire

Skeet Surfin', it's alright

First wave, get the knack

Second wave, pull the trap

Third wave, how's that?

Skeet Surfin', it's alright

Sharing sunsets with my favorite girl

When we shoot the curl, we really shoot the curl

First wave, don't get tired

Second wave, aim higher

Third wave, pull and fire

Skeet Surfin', it's alright

First wave, get the knack

Second wave, pull that trap

Third wave, how's that?

I wish they all could be double-barrelled

Wish they all could be double-barrelled guns

Skeet Surfin' can't you see?

Do you wanna come along with me?

Skeet surfin' can't you see?

Do you wanna come along with me?

Skeet Surfin' it's alright

Little girl we'll have fun tonight

Skeet surfin' can't you see?

Do you wanna come with me?

Grab your board, run to the beach

Skeet surfin' it's a lot of fun

GRUß

[Carsten]

Hallo Hollowpoint,

ja genau den meinte ich!

Glaube aber nicht, das wir das jemals als DSB-Disziplin eingeführt bekommen!

[Hollowpoint]

Bei uns fehlt's ja schon an den Grundvoraussetzungen für diese Diszipöin!

Einen warmen wellenreichen Ozean mit kilometerlangen Traumstränden, die nicht von Grillteutonen überflutet sind. Nicht zu vergessen, das "California Feeling" und die Good Vibrations.

GRUß

[tecnolli]

Schön, daß die Erinnerung an "Skeet Surfin'" hier hochgehalten wird...

Aber bei einigen Sachen von Johnny Cash tropft auch der schwarze Humor aus dem CD-Player.

Hier mein Lieblings-Beispiel:

DELIA’S GONE

Delia, oh, Delia, Delia all my life

If I hadn’t have shot poor Delia I’d had her for my wife

Delia’s gone, one more round, Delia’s gone

I went up to Memphis and I met Delia there

found her in her parlor, and I tied her to her chair

Delia’s gone, one more round, Delia’s gone

She was low down and trifling, and she was cold and mean

Kind of evil make me want to grab my submachine

Delia’s gone, one more round, Delia’s gone

First time I shot her I shot her in the side

Hard to watch her suffer, but with the second shot she died

Delia’s gone, one more round, Delia’s gone

But jailer, oh jailer, jailer I can’t sleep

‘cause all around my bedside I hear the patter of Delia’s feet

Delia’s gone, one more round, Delia’s gone

So if your woman’s devilish, you can let her run

Or you can bring her down and do her like Delia got done

Delia’s gone, one more round, Delia’s gone

Delia’s gone, one more round, Delia’s gone

[tecnolli]

Und hier noch eins für unsere Westernschützen. Auch Cash, aber wohl nicht so witzig gemeint:

BIG IRON

To the town of Agua Fria rode a stranger one fine day

Hardly spoke to folks around him, didn’t have to much to say

No one dared to ask his business, no one dared to make a slip

For the stranger there amongt them had a big iron on his hip

Big iron on his hip

It was early in the morning when he rode into the town

He came ridin’ from the South side, slowly lookin’ all around

“He’s an outlaw loose and runnin’ ” came the whisper from each lip

“And he’s here to do some business with the big iron on his hip”

Big iron on his hip

In this town there lived an outlaw by the name of ‘Texas Red’

Many men had tried to take him, and that many man were dead

He was vicious and a killer, though a youth of twenty-four

And the notches on his pistol numbered one and nineteen more

One and nineteen more

Now the stranger started talking, made it plain to folks around

He was an Arizona Ranger, wouldn’t be too long in town

He came here to take an outlaw back alive or maybe dead

And he said it didn’t matter, he was after Texas Red

After Texas Rex

Wasn’t long before the story was relayed to Texas Red

But the outlaw didn’t worry, men that tried before were dead

Twenty men had tried to take, twenty men had made a slip

Twenty-One would be the ranger with the big iron on his hip

Big iron on his hip

The morning passed so quickly, it was time for them to meet

It was twenty past eleven when they walked out in the street

Folks were watching from their windows, everybody held their breath

They knew this handsome Ranger was about to meet his death

Was about to meet his death

There was fourty feet between them when they stopped to make their play

And the swiftness of the Ranger is still talked about today

Texas Red had not cleared leather when a bullet fairly ripped

And the Rangers aim was deadly with the big iron on his hip

Big iron on his hip

It was over in a moment and the folks had gathered ‘round

There before them lay the body of the outlaw on the ground

Oh, he might have gone one living, but he made one fatal slip

When he tried to match the Ranger with the big iron on his hip

Big iron on his hip