It seems that my year long hiatus has come to an abrupt end and it's time to put that old editorial helmet back on. I've been off playing, shirking my duties here as ORC's resident Loose Cannon and Chief Pain in the Ass.
A good amount of time was spent behind locked doors doing God knows what, eating pizza and smoking too many
cowboy killers, because that was all they could slide under the bedroom door... Ain't love grand! The rest of my time was spent wandering aimlessly through the Deserts of Baja searching for the Mythical Fountain of Racing Fuel.
Unfortunately all I found was an abandoned Pemex station near El Arco inhabited by a squatter named Jorge, and half a drum of stale Unocal 112 left by Ivan during the 1987 Baja 1000. Jorge offered to make me a deal on the gas, but it had an odd smell. So instead we horse traded for some unusual cactus he had. It smelled better than
the gas, but tasted pretty nasty. Jorge assured me it was an acquired taste, much like a fine Scotch.
At his insistance, I imbibed, and the rest for some reason, is a little blurry. Next thing I knew, it was three months later and I woke up on my
boat at Parker, AZ, with three topless dancers from San Diego. Well, we all know I've come out of
a coma in worse places for certain. So much for me and my
misadventures, the important thing is, I'm back, refreshed and with a vengeance! Now on to the matters at hand...
It has come to my attention that the plagues against our beloved sport of which Nostradamus foretold are at hand. So I have forcibly extracted my cranial unit from my nether orifice and heard the call to arms! The Three Horsewomen of the Apocalypse are mustering, and they want to take our toys from us! Their names are... Boxer... Feinstein... Clinton. To you poor schmucks in New York, if you vote for Hillary, I'll have my cousins Fredo and Danny throw you in the Hudson right next to where they put Hoffa!
Feinstein and Boxer are all wet and gooey over the prospect of hanging out in expensive Senate lounges sipping exotic coffees with their panty pal Hillary. All at taxpayers expense, of course. Make no mistake, these hags will brew up a cauldron of trouble that would make Shakespeare's witches from MacBeth look like freaking Girl Scouts stirring cookie dough.
Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble...
These are troubling times we are facing, my friends and fellow riders! If Feinstein, Boxer, and Clinton are allowed to put their progesterone soaked brains together, all of us that enjoy and/or profit from outdoor fun will be in deep excrement. Our untimely and
premature demise is first on their agenda, have no doubts. They want all humanity to be as bereft of excitement as there own miserable lives.
Here a some of the things they want for the New World Order:
Federal lands closed to OHV travel
Emission controls on M/C engines
Emission controls on marine engines
Federal mandates on vehicle height
Federal mandates on vehicle size
Federal mandates as to "acceptable" Internet content
Federal mandates on everything you do, think and say
Stricter CAFE regulations to limit engine size and
performance
National socialized healthcare
National ID cards
National ban on two stroke engines
National ban on guns
National ban on cigarettes, cigars and pipe tobacco
National ban on Charleton Heston and Rick Sieman
Higher Taxes to pay for enforcement of all this crap
So much more intrusive garbage that if I keep going I'm gonna burn a valve.
My friends I'm not taking this lying down, if I can get off my fat, lazy, Suzuki
Quadzilla riding butt so can you! This trio of liberal hags will have to pry my Colt AR15 and Marlboros from my trembling nicotine and gunpowder stained fingers while I gasp my last aqualung breaths. I'm not letting a bunch of jack booted thugs drag me off quietly into the cold night! If I'm gonna go down, it's with a fight.
The liberal media is still trying to besmirch our sport, but is losing ground to a more
extreme and younger audience that prefers the free access to information that the Internet provides. The tree huggers, while we have beaten them down, they are still a stone in our riding boots. We have made advances in gaining favorable press, House and Senate seats on both the Federal and State levels. Jesse "The Mind" Ventura runs a whole state, for Christ's sake.
I have a dream! One day we will be able to openly ride our MX bikes and drive our race trucks on the streets of our beloved America! I have a dream! We will be able to buy 112 race gas at AM/PM straight from the pump for under two bucks a gallon! I have a dream! We will be able to travel on our own Federal lands without fearing the Black Helicopters may swoop down and whisk us
off to Area 51 for horrific medical experimentation to see what makes us tick and how to reduce us to mindless TV watching liberal automatons!
We can do this! We can stem the liberal tide. There is a wealth of information available
here at Off-Road.Com to help you. Join a local club, write letters, send faxes, campaign and vote for Politicians that are friendly. Make your voice heard... SPEAK OUT!
