One of the officers who works with our department on a regular basis is in his 60's, bald as a cue-ball, grandkids out the wazoo, about as North Texas redneck as you can get.
He drives an ancient beat-to-hell pickup, with bits of hay in the bed and a Remington Model 11 in the rear window.
He carries a Smith and Wesson Combat Magnum, because he doesn't trust them new-fangled auto-chuckers.
His dog has a red bandanna instead of a collar.
He has every episode of Hee-Haw on tape.
The man is a good-ol'-boy. He is the beta version of the Standard Bubba Model.
Sometime ago back, I walk into the office and there's bunch of S.O. personnel giving him the hairy eyeball as he types an incident report into the computer. He has obviously put a CD into the drive to give him music to help make the report go a little faster.
"... Erst wenn die Wolken schlafengehn ..." growls this gentleman, happily.
I listen for a bit, then nudge another officer. "That sounds like ... Rammstein" I say to her.
"Uh-huh," sayeth she, kind of big-eyed.
"... Kann man uns am Himmel sehn ..." head bobbing enthusiastically.
"Engel?" I guess.
"... wir haben Angst und sind allein ..." he grates, hammering away on the keyboard in time to the beat.
"He's ... singing."
"Umm ... Uh-huh."
"... Gott weiss ich will kein Engel sein ..."
Folks, that's just plain Not Right.