With Apologies to Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre
Nov 13, 2008 Curious Coaching, Fire Richard Smith, God hates ugly, Idiot Karaoke, Inanity
Nuthin’ But A D Thang
by: Richard Smith and Jon Hoke
One, two, three and to the fo’
D-C Richard Smith and Coach Hoke are at the do’
Another stupid penalty, so back on up
And you know we’ll probably fuck shit up
[Smith]
Gimme the microphone first, so I can bust like a bubble
See me with that headset, now you know you in trouble
Ain’t nothin’ but a D thang, baaaaabay!
Two overmatched coaches looking craaaazay!
McNair is the geezer that paaaays me!
Replaceable, but please don’t try to replace me
But, uh, back to the lecture at hand
Perfection ain’t expected, so ineptitude is the plan
From DC’s perspective
And before me callin’ a blitz I’d have to change my whole perspective
You never know, it could be time for a blitz,
O primed for a blitz, and the whole D’s just dyin’ blitz
But you know I ain’t wit’ that shit, y’all
Ain’t no coverage good enough it won’t get burnt while I’m involved
Now we worse than Indy, Tennessee, and Jacksonville
Baylor fans, Houston fans know just how you feel
Well, I ain’t good enough to coach a pee wee team
Don’t you wonder why they haven’t fired me?
[Chorus]
We don’t blitz, we can’t cover, we don’t blitz, and uh
We can’t cover, we don’t blitz, we can’t cover, and uh
We don’t blitz, we can’t cover, we don’t blitz, and uh
Hoke, creep to the mic like a phantom
[Hoke]
Well they beat him and they beat him and they beat him
But I can’t do shit; Richard says we gotta keep Reeves in
Now its time for me to make my contributions known
So sit back, relax, and watch the coverage get blown
You never been on a ride like this, I bet
With a DB coach who can make his best corner regress
And just smile at the miles of cushion we give
You know, and they know, that our whole scheme is shit
To add to my deflation, the immolation
Of ol’ Petey, there he be, watching the TD
Like I do, when we in Cover-2
But this scheme is all me and Dick Smith know how to do
[Chorus]
We don’t blitz, we can’t cover, we don’t blitz, and uh
We can’t cover, we don’t blitz, we can’t cover, and uh
We don’t blitz, and we ain’t got no plans to change
So jus’ chill, wait fo’ mo’ of the same
[Smith]
Travis playin’ like ass, like he ain’t never seen a
Play-action fake; who is worse, him or Zgonina?
It’s the capital S, oh yes, the fresh M-I-T-H
And I keep playin’ the veterans, talented rookies have to wait
Showin’ no flex when it comes to halftime changes
Man, the D is shittin’ the bed, now my whole job’s in danger
Yeah, but I won’t quit
I think I’m in the mood for some Mario-in-coverage shit
So, Hoke. [What up, dogg? ]
Should we give ‘em what dey want? [Whats that, G?]
Should we break ‘em off some blitzes? [Hell naw]
I don’t even know what that is! [Sounds dangerous!]
[Hoke]
We in last place so I’ma ask your attention
Losin’ like a mothafucka but I ain’t bitchin’
Bringin’ the same shit that’s makin the remaining fans mumble
When we in Cover-2, we’re like a cookie, we all crumble
If we get the game close, the coverage’s ass’ll get smacked
But my mothafuckin’ homie Richard Smith has my back
Never let me change, cause if I change, where’s the change end?
And if I put in Bennett, then where the fuck I put Faggins
So I’ma continue to play Jacques Reeves, you can’t stop me
And you lost your fucking mind if you think I’ll drop three deep
Yeah, and I don’t quit
I bring the same old shit, I’ll even start Brown and Demps
And tell ‘em to play off, never on, ’til all hope is gone
H-O-U-S-T-O-N, guess it time to focus on the Rockets
Hoke and Rich, bringin’ all the blogs together
Everyone is sayin’ ANYone could do it better
[Chorus]
Don’t blitz, cover or blitz and uh
Don’t cover and don’t blitz and don’t cover and uh
Don’t blitz, and we ain’t got no wins to show
So jus’ chill, ’til we kicked out the do’
With apologies to Oasis
Jul 9, 2008 Babyeating-Sisterfuckers, Idiot Karaoke, Inanity, Overrated, Tunez, Vince Young can't read this post
Wonderlic
by: Vince Young
This year is s’posed to be the year
That I’m gonna learn to lead a team
Or not, since I just forgot
Everything ‘Dinger taught to me
I don’t believe that they expect me
To memorize an entire playbook
Last week the word was on the street
That the fire in my heart was out
Forget I said I almost quit
Because I never really had a doubt
I don’t believe that they expect me
To memorize an entire playbook
And I’m sure the way I play this year will hurt us
But at least the guys I’m dancing with are shirtless
Our mascot is a Babyeating
Sisterfucker, too
But I don’t care!
Tenn-ess-eeee
You know I fit in cuz I can’t read
3-4-5-6
It’s my Wonderlic
I know Gage is wide open
But I’d rather just tuck and run
Throwin’ deep, man that ain’t for me
Interceptions ain’t no fun
I don’t believe that they expect me
To memorize an entire playbook
And all the fans who watch me play are meth-mouthed
And all of them have wheels underneath their house
Our mascot is a Babyeating
Sisterfucker, too
But I don’t care!
Tenn-ess-eeee
You know I fit in cuz I can’t read
3-4-5-6
It’s my Wonderlic
Tenn-ess-eeee
You know I fit in cuz I can’t read
3-4-5-6
It’s my Wonderlic
Tenn-ess-eeee
Where people just love to inbreed
Where they’ve got no shoes on their feet
Where they really think I’m a Q-B
With apologies to James Taylor
Jan 14, 2008 Awesomeness, Fuck the Cowboys, Idiot Karaoke, Inanity
Mexico
by: Tony Romo
Thirteen wins, Jessica says we should go
Blow off steam before all our playoff games
I’m a star, I can head off to Cozumel with my flame
Oh, Mexico
The season isn’t over but I just got to go
The Giants are crap, plus we got them at home
Jessica wants to go now
Well my Cowboys got the first round bye
And my girl’s still shining with a big ol’ smile
My jersey in pink and her eyes on fire
Oh, Mexico
Bellhop says “hola, Senor Romo”
Jess ain’t too bright and her snizz ain’t tight
But her dad thinks I’m alright
Jerry’s angry ’cause the season’s all done
I hear him screaming at Wade on the phone
Wanted that trophy, like when Aikman would win; Do it again
Oh, down in Mexico
Don’t blame my trip, you’ll upset T.O.
Oh, Mexico
Jess said we should go
Oh, Mexico
I choked last year too and I didn’t even go
Oh, Mexico
I’ve got more time to go now
I have a great idea! I’ll get an average looking chick with a 73 IQ to make videos with me!!!
Sep 27, 2007 Houston Chronicle, Idiot Karaoke, Righteous Indignation, Theft
Well, isn’t this interesting? It seems that John McClain, Anna-Megan Raley, and two or three other Chron people have done a song parody, “Big Bad Schaub” (to the tune, obviously, of Jimmy Dean’s “Big Bad John.”)
Hmm. I could swear that I’ve recent seen song parodies somewhere else. Where was that? Oh wait…that’s right! I did them under the heading of Idiot Karaoke! And, if you’ve been reading this site for more than two weeks–in which case, you should know that Homeland Security is likely watching you–you probably noticed the “coincidence,” too.
Am I saying they stole my idea? No, not directly. I am suggesting it as a possibility, however, because I think it’s curious that just over two weeks after my first parodies of old country songs, the video maven and his vapid lap dog decided to do a parody of an old country song.
Could it really be a coincidence? Possibly. But, when you consider that in their hours of videos, they have never–to my knowledge, at least–done a song parody of any kind, it seems a little more than coincidental. When you combine this with the fact that BRB and Fanhouse linked to the original parody, “I Blame The Line,” and that the post received a good reaction from pretty much everyone, I think I have to call shenanigans.
To be fair, as Stephanie pointed out in an email to me, Chance McClain is an actual musician of some sort and has written songs about the Texans. Fair enough. In my mind, however, that makes my accusation even more likely–if McClain has access to a musician, why did it never enter his mind to do a parody song about a player until right after I did it?
As I see it, there are two possibilities. First, McClain and Anna-Tard put their heads together, sorted through the insipid spew that Anna-Megan likely offers, and totally independent of this blog decided to parody a–something they’d never done before–and it just happened to be both an old country song and soon after I had done that exact thing. Possible, I guess. Second, one or both of them saw my parody and thought it would be fun to do the same, so they enlisted the help of Chance McClain.
Think I am paranoid and crazy? Maybe, but look at it this way–if Tim or Scott or Stephanie or Texans Gab or Texans Tailgate started doing parodies of old country songs about players, it would not be a stretch to say that they stole the idea from here. Why should McClain and the Chron people get a free pass from suspicion just because he whores himself out on video with regularity? Occam’s Razor, bitches.
So, do I care? Only a little. I like the people at the Chron in general. (After all, they did link to my edited mirror of this blog and put it on their main Texans page. That was cool.) At the same time, I have heard from a couple different emailers that some of the Chron writers have talked some smack about this blog being “not funny,” “rude,” and/or just written “to get a response.” OK, so maybe the first two accusations are true, at least to some people. But the third? Blow me. I am nothing if not transparent here–I sign my name to everything, I cite sources on nearly every story I write, and I don’t write anything I don’t believe myself (though, in cases like the “we should sign Simeon Rice” post, I was drunk at the time). So, to the extent that some of these people have taken exception to what I am doing here, I take exception to the idea that someone would so blatantly steal an idea. A little recognition, like a fucking hat tip or a “we saw this here and thought it would be fun to do one,” is not asking too much.
[Final side-note: I know that McClain and his posse did a remake of "The Night Before Christmas" last December. I do not consider that as evidence that they didn't rip DGDB&D off because (a) that's a fucking poem and (b) it's not a classic country song.]
UPDATE: Paul mentions that McClain has been talking about this song for “weeks” on 610. If his idea predates 9/14, then I fully admit that I am wrong. (About the song; I stand by the idea that Anna-Megan is less-than-adequate at best.) Of course, he might have also stole it from an 80s Oilers record, but whatever. Anyone know when he first mentioned it?
SECOND UPDATE: So, it seems, I jumped the gun on this. Fair enough. I am man enough to admit when I am wrong.
With apologies to Willie Nelson
Sep 20, 2007 Fuck the Cowboys, Idiot Karaoke, Inanity, Teams that aren't the Texans
My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys
by: Tank Johnson
I grew up dreamin’ of bein’ a Cowboy,
and lovin’ the Cowboy ways.
Pursuin’ the life of my coke-snortin’ heroes,
I smoked weed through my college days.
I learned of all the rules of the modern-day criminal,
And did my best to get out of Chi-town.
A gun-totin’ athlete, of course Jerry wants me,
He likes how Tank Johnson gets down.
My heroes have always been Cowboys.
Or since at least ninety-three
I did my jail time, then fucked up again,
Just so Jerry Jones would sign me
Cowboys are special with their own way of partyin’,
With firearms and strippers and crack.
You could die from the drugs, or just contract herpes,
But when you’re high, you don’t think about that.
Pickin’ up hookers around Corinth and Harwood,
I don’t worry that it might be a sting.
Because if I’m arrested, well that’s nothing new.
Hey, what does “recidivism” mean?
My heroes have always been Cowboys.
Or since at least ninety-three.
I did my jail time, then fucked up again,
Just so Jerry Jones would sign me.
I did my jail time, then fucked up again
Just so Jerry Jones would sign me.
With apologies to Lynn Anderson
Sep 16, 2007 Idiot Karaoke, Inanity, Is This Song Too Obscure?, Peyton Manning's lovelife
Rose Garden
by: Peyton Manning
I beg your pardon
Kenny’s giving me a ragin’ hard-on
His songs about sunshine
Make me wanna touch his manhood to mine
I can catch or I can pitch, I can be Kenny’s bitch
And make him go “whoa-oh-oh.”
I beg your pardon,
Kenny’s giving me a ragin’ hard-on.
I could promise you things like Super Bowl rings,
But you’ll have to do more than tell Renee, you need to show her.
Kenny, bend it over.
Well, if sweet-talkin’ you could make it come true,
I would give this all up and escape with you to Cozumel,
Even though I don’t suntan well.
So smile for a while, there’s no harm
in showing you my “laser, rocket arm.”
Come along, be my biggest Volunteer fan, man.
I beg your pardon,
Kenny’s giving me a ragin’ hard-on.
His songs about sunshine,
Make me wanna touch his manhood to mine.
[Instrumental break.]
I beg your pardon,
Kenny’s giving me a ragin’ hard-on.
I finally beat Tom Brady, so I’m thinking maybe
That’s what it takes to win you,
Come and play with Archie’s son;
as my receiver, you’re number one.
We can pull a QB sneak or you can split wide and go deep,
And if you’re into kink, I’ll give you a donkey punch.
Tell me do you like it rough?
So smile for a while and let’s watch some TV:
You’ll see at least fifty commercials with me.
Don’t you want to date such a famous man?
I beg your pardon,
Kenny’s giving me a ragin’ hard-on.
His songs about sunshine,
Make me wanna touch his manhood to mine.
With apologies to Willie Nelson
Sep 14, 2007 Casserly blows goats... I have proof, Idiot Karaoke, Inanity, Reggie Bush, Super Mario, Teams that aren't the Texans, Vinsanity
The City of New Orleans
by: Reggie Bush
Drafted by the city of New Orleans,
Overrated, hell; you shoulda took me number one
At USC, you know I won the Heisman,
I averaged way more than three-point-five per run.
Now I’m in the NFC
Where nearly everyone’s as fast as me
And they all hit harder than those pussies out at Cal.
Shelden Brown nearly knocked me out,
I can’t believe Drew hung me out
I made fun of his mole, but I thought we were still pals.
CHORUS:
Good morning NFL, how are you?
Don’t you know me I’m the chosen one,
I’m the running back they call The Next Gale Sayers,
But, I’ll be returning punts in Cleveland by the time I’m done.
Getting throttled by Indy in the season opener.
I’d look better if no one was keeping score.
Thank god we still have Deuce McAllister,
I had 12 carries and sure didn’t want no more.
And the writers for the papers
And the hacks at ESPN
Continue to talk out of their ass.
Thank you Charlie Casserly,
For taking Mario and not me
You got fired, but I get a free pass.
Hello, NFL, how are you?
Don’t you know me I’m the chosen one,
I’m the running back they call The Next Gale Sayers,
But, I’ll be returning punts in Cleveland by the time I’m done.
Nighttime in The City of New Orleans,
Kim Kardashian coming over soon.
My USC education was awesome
Matt Leinart showed me how to snag hot poon.
And all the fans down in Houston
Are starting to change their song
About whether they wish I was in Liberty White.
Some are still hung up on Vince,
But my name no longer makes them wince,
They whisper “Hey, maybe we actually drafted right.”
Good night, NFL , how are you?
Don’t you know me I’m the chosen one,
I’m the running back they call The Next Gale Sayers,
But, I’ll be returning punts in Cleveland by the time I’m done.
With apologies to Johnny Cash
Sep 14, 2007 David Carr has Post-Concussion Syndrome, Idiot Karaoke, Inanity, Teams that aren't the Texans
I Blame The Line
by: David Carr
I keep a close watch on my offensive line
Lest they let someone hit me from behind
They buy me three seconds, they know that I need nine
The fault’s not mine
I blame the line
Other teams find it easy to beat us
So in fear I curl up like a fetus
Don’t try to blame those four picks on me because
The fault’s not mine
I blame the line
As sure as night is dark and day is light
Daddy swears I’m doing everything right
And he should know, since he’s always within sight
That the fault’s not mine
He blames the line
The humidity in Houston wrecks my hair
But my teammates, they seem not to care
That I need thirty seconds when I’m back there
See, the fault’s not mine
I blame the line
I still think I’ll make the Hall of Fame
Then people won’t spit when they say my name
In Carolina, that’s where I’ll stake my claim
(Unless I find
I need to blame the line)
