Stratovarius Community

Breaking news! Breaking news!


FIFA stopped the deliveries of Tjottahunti to Brazil's soccerteam and we could all see the result! HUHUUU! They lost everything and ran around as scared hens. But the drugfree Germans scored like triumphant conquers, just as Öhubble predicted.

An appeal has come in from the shaken and desperate players to FIFA. "Please, please, let us have our Tjottahunti at least for the last game on Saturday. POOOOOORFAVOOOOOR.......

FIFA will take the request under consideration and give their answer on Friday night at 8 pm. The whole Brazil trembles, with tears in their fucking eyes, till then...

Mr OHubble has got an offer from FIFA, that he can't refuse and will not talk more about black tickets, arranged games, corruption, Tjottahunti or aliengenes.

So the rest is silence.

We have now gone to a country, close by, to visit an old friend of OHubble. A poet, that have green birds on his brain. We live in an elephantshed, but the elephant is not at home. Or is he dead?

MEEEEEEEHHHHH!!!!!

I have NO twin and not even one that can be compared to me, so who the heck are you?

It is not meeee, by the way. It is brumbrumbrum...or kvackkvackkvack...

METALHEAD GOAT

Jaja! OHubble and I are now leaving his friend, the poet, and he gave us a poem, I of course can't understand. At all! Maybe you can? But I think it is about green birds...He has pippipipio on that!

Pajaros verde ! Pajaros!

En la cabaza llena de pajaros aun.
Tiene palomas amarillas adentro,
De mu noble craneo, estas palomas le circulan,
Durmiendo en el amfiteatro de su
Palomar cerebelo y luego ibis escalanta
Pasea sobre su frente una ballesta,
en sang retada ay que opulento privilegio!

Luckily we are soon home again, where people talk understandable. HUH!

Jaja, so we are at home again, on the dear farm, with Nurmi and all the aliengoats. ÖHubble is still upset and angry at FIFA but he is also eager to start his testwork.

The two now bodyhairfree and feet-and-equipment-normal,Gary Nea and Gary Colin are our best shepherds and they have developed a skill to talk to the goats. One of the animals has recited a poem, that Nea has written down. It goes like this.


Määä! I came from a foreign remote star,
And gosh how it twinkled there, so very far,
I was a lucky one that fell in Finnish land,
And not like those forlorn in desert sand.

The question was to be or not,
Whether it was nobler to suffer agony and rot,
From stings of arrows in outrages fortune,
Or use goat poison against the bitter mortune
And opposing them? To die. To sleep.
To be no more, and let Ophelia weep,
Her goatheart out from natural shock,
When she lost her handsome grand big bock.

To sleep, to dream,goatdreams of green grass,
On blooming meadows and Ophelia's pink ass,
For in the sleep of death, where dreams may come,
To me that bear the pining about fjords at home,
Where I have left my dears on the Excessa.
The ones I love and wanted to caressa.

But I can not return, I have no such skill,
So they must me forgive, for everything, until,
We meet again in another timedimension,
And show the native hue of estimation,
With this regard I soon will turn my way,
And lose the last of hope when I can say.

"Ophelia, may our nights of woe be well remember'd,
When hard our true and bitter sorrow hits,
And soon to you as you to me, tender'd,
The humble slave with wounded bosom fits."

I think Nea has found a genuine goatpoem here, and I am sure there are more, where that came from...

Master Lao Tse sat by an empty dustbin, forlorn. For days he hadn't slept, on the ceiling hid hurtful secrets and dim lights. Whose job it is to keep all of them in line? he thought. There's a light dance and there must be an orchestration, a baton to guide all the photons. A gentle mouth that blows all this air, cold as if from other planet. A cruel hand that clenches the left part of the chest, as if reclaiming stolen property. He tried to find peace in himself, but it was elusive. To whom could he speak with if from a mouth he was denied? His eyes looked anywhere, but the mother of things was never found. Where is the mountain, the neverending grass? he asked.

Master Tse drank milk from the bottle. It was a beautiful day. He rose from the floor and felt the planet-mouths, all whispering. Perceiving how secrets foreshadowed everything but his eyes still so clouded by longing. The milk expires tomorrow, he must gulp the whole thing now. It was a beautiful day.

How did the mother and father of things rained on earth? Before, in that formless state, was there anguish? Did the beings advance in all directions? If he put on a ragged sock, will his day be better? The days that break into hours, minutes, seconds. Of which all is made of. Of which all is later devoided. And the shirt he uses has a hole. But when we die, will it matter?

Master Lao Tse rose again, from stupor. He needed to make peace with that cruel hand. A truce. Just the legs, to move, he asked. The hand was generous and focused then on his heart. He couldn't drink the whole milk, it was just too much. It will expire.. he apologized full-heartedly to the cows...

The cows accepted the excuses and smiled, in a silly, ruminating way. "Mö,mö,mö,chew,chew,chew." But one of them didn't smile. At all! And it wasn't even a cow. It was Gary Bull and he was grumpier than grumpiest. "Grump, grump," he muttered. "Is it too much for you to drink our magnificent milk before it expires? Liters of tasty fluid expire here every day and I wonder why? Grump, grump."

"PFFFF," said the holy Tse. "I may be holy and such, but it isn't my task to drink your milk, before it expires. It is too fat for my stomach, and it expires there as soon as I swallow it. And to go further and tell you the bitter truth. I don't give a fucking damn about your expired milk...

Now a hairy ape that had avoided fishliveroil, and still was veeery hairy, interfered. "I can't stand milk from other animals, milk that expires" he whined. "I eat only spaghetticakes made of dried shit. It is vegan and brown already as dough. A real environmentwinwin."

"PFFFF", Holy Tse again. "Enough bullshit! Sorry Gary Bull! But I still have a dream about united aliens and since we all are gathered here on this splendid farm, the Goats, one Hairy Ape and all the Monstcows, we can hold hands and sing a song I just composed, for this occasion.

And he sang, with his thin holyvoice...

Oh, Aliens oh Aliens,
We gather here on this goatfarm,
And we sing not nor in wintertime,
Nein auch in summer can we rhyme,
Oh Aliens, oh Aliens,
We soon arrange the WM-soccer-game....

goats play soccer?

Yes!

this looks as me when i play soccer, I'm earth goat in chinese horoscope. meeeeh meeeeh!



or why do you think that i do stupid stuff and i laugh alone? why goats are crazy

There you have the twinkle in your eyes... the SOCCERTWINKLE...

Nea has talked with the goats again, and this time Ophelia had some aspects on the alienuniting. She turned to holy Tse, with a prayer and an appeal.


Oh holy Tse, you will unite us all, and are so wise,
So I must tell you, about my loverbock,that isn't at all nice,
I sat there picking in my fur for lice,
When he bumped in and hit me in my face,
And with a look so grim, he with his eyes could tear,
My heart out from my breast. I swear!
He looked as if he came straight out from hell,
Where the devil taught him, all the horrors he could tell,

He kicked my leg and made me fall,
And then again, he had the devilkickers ball,
But suddenly he went to such perusal of my face,
As if he would kiss me and in haze,
He moved his head up and down, like a mad craze,
And raised a sigh, so piteous and profound,
It seemed to shatter all the stable ground,
And end his being, in the same second,
He seemed to find his way, without his sight,
For out of the door he stormed, with no more fight,
If you, dear Tse, hope to soon unite us all,
Skip for God's sake the brute that made me fall...

Some more Stratoforumcraziness...I have a too long lunchbreak...

On the goatfarm, Nea reports that Gary Goat is very depressed, after his last outburst at Ophelia, and she is worried over his dark moods. He talks to himself and Nea is quoting him here.

Ah and oh, that this too solid flesh would melt, thaw and resolve itself in a dew! My world is so futile and contemptible. Rot and corrupt! And now I can't even hold hands and sing, with the other aliens, says Ophelia. Buuuu!

She would accuse me of such horrible things, that it were better my mother had not born me. What do such goats as I, do crawling between Earth and Heaven?

Ophelia, I haven't been nice to you, so go thy way to a goatnunnery in Denmark, before I hurt you more. You have made me a mad woodwormgoat and I have made deeds of such cruelty, they can't be named. I have butted too many, to be counted.

Go to a Danish nunnery Ophelia, or if thou wilt needs, marry a fool, for wise bucks know, that you will make monstergoats of them. Marry a Dane Ophelia. Or a foolish German, and be a breeder of foolish, silly sinners.



Nea is just now talking to Öhubble and they are making some pills for the poor Gary Goat. We all hope for the best...

Did you think, that I had given up my reports from the farm?
Oh no, how wrong you were! A true pressagent will always sound alarm,

Gary Goats madness was so pure when he showed,
Salty tears for how he treated Ophelia, his loved,
He ate less and less and his wit disappeared,
His soul was full of discord and quotes from Shakespeare,
He had a swollen stomach and looked almost pregnant,
He stamped his hooves and urinated frequent,
It was almost dangerous to keep him loose,
He used to buff everyone, even a nice little goose,
Öhubble must hurry, with his magic pills.
And he used magnesia and moss from Swedish hills,

And the Sun no sooner touched the Russian border before,
The skilled professor knew, how he could cure the gloomy bore,
He gave the grumpy goat galloping hormones,
And gosh and huh, it worked without ceremonies,
Gary jumped about like some Indian dancers,
And rushed to Ophelia with erotic advances,
She bleated in surprise "Oh Gary, my Gary,
My handsomest buck let's run to the ferry,
To the seventh of heavens and there we can merry."

And so they did and soon she will carry,
A little Garykid and she can't drink any sherry...

The Silence takes it all,

And we are standing small,

The Silence always wins.

The Silence takes it all...

You wanna a insane nerd explosion? try to put into a same tread to me and jens johansson and you will see the nuclear nerd bomb exploiting xd

To day you really are surpassing yourself in incomprehensibility. Do you really think a female could understand you? I say she never could! ha ha ha!

and yes one woman can understand one drunk metal guy?

A drunken sailor would be clear as crystal compared to you. Not even a Angel will understand you for that I am sure. Idiot.

seriously, you have guys speaking about old penisses and cunshots and you cant understand me?

if my more clear that the water. I tell you all about me, I asume that I'm one idiot, And More idiot for cover stratovarius xd

what is that you cant understand? that im beastly direct?

that I dont lie and build me a "False position in the life?"

what is that you dont understand? That I'm handsome?

That you hide your real identity for maybe you are afraid?

That I use this forum why I dont have any future for now?

Maybe you isnt interested in this, but i need uncompress feelings why i will die if i dont do it

HUH!

Let me tell you about the neverending goatfights, at the farm. There lives a mistreated and mobbed goat, we call Shybuck, and thanks to Nea's translation of his many määäs and bäääs, we now know more about his thoughts. He started his story with a long, extract and sad MÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄÄ...(Universal beginning of all goattalks )


Shybucks lamentationpoem.


They all disgrace me, call me ugly names,and mock me,
Scorn me and shove me around, when I can't flee,
They heat my enemies and for what? I say,
I am a goat like them, and eat the same dry hay,
And do we not all nomnom the same green grass,
And gawk, when we so can at Ophelia's pink ass,

Am I not a goat with the same dull eyes they got,
And haven't I the same sharp horns? But may I ask for what,
I'm not allowed to use them on this damn farm,
Since corny Pekka told me, I may make no harm,
But do I not have buckfeelings and passions too,
So why can't I take my revenge for evil things they do?

If someone horn me hard, does it not hurt?
And if they tickle me and push me in the dirt?
Do I not have the right to butt them back?
And even kill someone, in an heroic hornattack,
The villainy they taught me I can now execute,
And then they know what happens when they scorn a brute,
This can be my way to give buckback for all the shame,
They hurt my soul, when they offended my great Shybuckname...

What have I started...

This is probably my last report from Pekkas farm, since I got my job at Helsingin back. After I promised to never again write stories about killing aliengoats and other strange, unbelievable things in the redneckwoods.

But I will at last tell a more romantic and very, very sad story. It is about two young goats nr 78 and 144. We called them Romeo and Juliet and Juliet was a sweet, black, little thing imported from Russia. She had no aliengenes and Pekka didn't allow her to fraternize with the aliengoats.

But love was in the air, and it was a click, at first sight, between the speckled Romeo and the black Juliet. Romeo butted down the fence to Juliets meadow and never was a love more woe,
than that of this Juliet and her Romeo.

Pekka was furious and built a very high fence. "Haha," he said,"Jump over that if you can, silly, speckled goat."
Romeo hesitated and if we can believe Nea he also sang when he pondered over, if he could try his jumplegs in this gigantic step for goats. So he sang according to Nea.

"I just met a girl called Juliet,
And a more beautiful name has never been set,
Juliet, Juliet, Juliet...

My love for you my Juliet dear,
Is strong and make me without fear,
I will jump to you, I swear,
Even if I have to use a spear,
Our last parting was such a sweet sorrow,
That I will be back with a spear tomorrow."

And he was really back! With a long spear! And did he jump? Yes he did!

But, but, there wasn't meant to be some happy ending here. Indeed he jumped over the fence! Yes! And on the other side stood Juliet anxiously waiting for her lover. Tragedy, tragedy...

Romeo fell! On her!. Yes! He broke his neck and took her with him in his brutal death. He fell on her head and crushed it. Jaja, it is sad, very, very sad!

Sens moral! Never jump too high, when you are in love...

Hi, I am Gary Colin from Seattle, former ratbitten, shiteating, hairy ape, cured by and forever grateful to, Öhubble that injected fishliveroil in my bum. I have two own nicks, but can't remember my passwords so I have borrowed the professors, that by the way is "Hubb". I am a rather lyrical person and am now working on a rockopera, about the tragic event, at a fence here. I call it Goatsaana.

I have some examples and start with Romeo's entreesong.


Romeo in speckled pants and a little hat on his head.

I am a goat, I am a speckled goat,
I am a goat, all the way,
From my first mouthful hay,
To my last dying day.

Then comes a chorus, with ten, big, stepping bucks.

OH, he is a goat, in speckled pants,
And be sure, that he can dance,
So all our goatchicks fall in trance,
And from that day, will be his fans.

A loud and long yodeling.

So Juliet...

I feel chosen, I feel chosen,
He loves me and I am the one,
He could have had a dozen,
But I am the chosen, and I won.

To night, to night,
He will jump the fence to night,
He will, he will,
And the moon will shine so bright,
To night, to night,
He will risk himself and me to kill.

Chorus all goats.

We love to be at the Finnish farm,
It is so great here, with Pekkas charm,
Everything is free here and goats will swarm,
Hay, grass, it is just to eat and no harm,
But, but, you are not allowed to love who you wunt,
And if you do, you can be killed in a sad jumpingstunt...



Continuing...maybe...not...

... rumours are heard that Andrew Lloyd Webber has made an offer to bring the rockopera to the Broadway In a betting shop in Newcastle (UK) you can already bet on who's gonna play the main roles!

Barging to the front of the crowd comes none other than... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...MR. GOAT EDIT! The shopkeeper's eyes grow so big that his queen-issued monocle falls out and into his cup of noontime Earl Grey, right next to his cup of one o'clock Earl Grey, saved for the appropriate hour.

"MY NAME IS MISTER TIMO GOAT TAPIO EDIT TOLKKI AND I WOULD LIKE TO PLACE A BET ON MYSELF!!!!!"

All the shop keeper heard however, was "maaaaaaaa baaaaaaa maaaaaaa baaaaaaaa baaaaaa maaaaaaaa *crunch* *crunch*". He asked Mr. Goat Edit to take his maaaing and baaaaing somewhere else. The goat did not move, as goats often do.

Then Goat Edit said, "Fuck me, if im the most goat means a lot of all yours. Speaking of goat, suck penises, drink a cheese, lost sons of all the planet, having sex with persons that knows that lost easy the undies."

Goat Edit said many more things but they were buried in various emoticons and Lauri gifs. He then posted a picture of a seal with some maaaa and baaaa written all over it, and the shopkeeper finally understood.

"Seal! How wonderful! I do enjoy his work. Five hundred thousand on Seal it is."

Goat Edit said, "maaaaaaa".

"No, not Seal? Then who shall voice Romeo?"

Goat Edit said, "baaaaaaa".

"Ah, Mr. Rogers!"

Goat Edit said, "baaaaa maaaaa baaaaa", which in language of Goat Edit was more like "no you fuck a cheese, I am obviously the superior and should be Romeo", but made the shopkeeper think he was saying "yes by all means Mr. Rogers is even better than Timo Tolkki and is the only true god, let him be Romeo and Juliet."

But the shopkeeper had other ideas in mind. This lyrical monologue was so profound, there could be no other way.

Quickly he got a tape recorder and went back to Mr. Goat Edit, who kept maaing and baaing even when there is no audience to maaa and baaa for. He then dialed the number for Andrew Lloyd Webber.

"Mr. Webber, I have someone who will audition for the parts of both Romeo and Juliet! Here!"

Wow! Great!

Gary Colin, in Mr Öhubble's nick! Again! Moco, you can bet on Mr Goat Edit. He will win the contest, since I got an offer from Mr Webber, I can't refuse. I will choose Mr Edit as Romeo, but I really insist on an separate Juliet. Who? Maybe Goal Stockhausen, that has the perfect Leedsaccent that suites Mr Edits English. The music will of course be composed and executed, by our own Stratoguys.

I have written one more Romeosong and a mighty Finale for a chorus of 144 bucks...

Romeo sings in second act.

Oh, Juliet, you now know what love is,
And you are all my hearts great bliss,
You can feel me in your soul,
Where there once was just a hole,
Now it's full of thee,
And this feeling is so new to me,
But I can hardly try to be,
More happy now when we,
Are together over a cup of EarlGreytea,


Finalechorus and here the Stratocomposer(Jens?) may think of "Aida" and "The Chorus of Hebrew Slaves."


If only we goatslaves could be free,
If only our dreams of freedom, you could see,
An army of captured goats could come out,
And run like some humans about,
If only we goats could walk on two feet,
And eat steaks, fillets and some sweets,
That would make all our dreams come true,
And then we could our own goatbeer brew.

We would hold up our heads,
And show all our good creeds,
We could be the essence of creatures
And form the worlds shining futures,
We would be the Earth's splendor face,
The fresh and new goathumanrace,
So let all the trapped goats free,
It will be the salvation, also for thee...