Ho, ho, ho! I gotta say I love Christmas! What other time of year can you say that to your old lady without getting hit with a pool cue? Christmas is America's holiday. A celebration of crass capitalism, marketing and vulgar, compulsive, conspicuous consumerism.

   My God, I love Christmas! The smell of pine needles filling the house, followed by picking out the dead ones stuck in the tender flesh of my feet with tweezers. The tinsel strands hanging out of the cat's ass like a rip cord on a furry little parachute. Maybe that's the proof I've been looking for that cats really love to sky dive? The dog  pissing on the tree within 15 seconds of bringing that $100 fire trap into the house (Just a thought, if an enviro-nazi has a Christmas Tree or Hanukah bush, is he a hypocrite?). The jing-jing-jingling of sleigh bells and cash registers is music to my ears. The sight of the cat spinning in circles trying to get that piece of Scotch Tape off it's tail, in a ballet that rivals "The Nutcracker."

   Christmas is powerful emotional, as well as economic mojo.  We need it not just to feel good, spend precious time with our friends and families, stuff our faces until the button on our pants pops or to watch football all day, unmolested by our wives and girlfriends. It's also the life's blood of most of the nation's retailers. Many small businesses pay for their annual overhead with holiday sales receipts.

   And lest I be politically incorrect and fail to mention Hanukah, Kwansa or whatever other seasonal extravaganza your particular religion or pagan cult celebrates. This is the spending holiday, spend, spend, spend! Don't you dare show up without the goodies! You know the penalty will be heart wrenching looks of disappointment from those that have undying faith in your ability to deliver instant gratification in brightly wrapped packages.

   Our economy needs it. Even more than that, our advertisers need it! So I'm calling on you to get up, get out, and buy tons of cool off roading goodies for all your friends and family!

   Now don't brand me a "humbug" Scrooge, looking to kick Tiny Tim's crutch from underneath his feeble arm quite as yet. The Ghosts of Christmas' Past, Present and Future needn't make a nocturnal call to my boudoir to rattle their chains and tug on my heartstrings. My heart is full of holiday spirit, I love to give even more than I love to get.

   But let's face it, getting cool stuff is bitchin'! Not quite as wonderful as the bright and twinkling eyes of a loved one when they open a gift that you can see really hit the spot. But a holiday with presents for everyone, but you, poor pitiful you, would certainly require years of therapy and heavy doses of anti-psychotic med's to set straight.

   Of course there will be mistakes, generally made by well meaning grannies without a clue how to buy a cool gift...
   A note to you grandmothers out there, generally if you think it's a good gift, it sucks. Here are some pointers:

• Sweaters are not, nor will they ever be... Bitchin'.
• Nor are socks, underwear or pajamas with little feet on them.
• If it's "cute," It's not bitchin'. Unless it's a puppy, you can totally score chicks with a cute puppy.
• Video games, while they may appear bitchin'. And with the exception of Motocross Madness, will only cause your  beloved grandkids to become mindless, antisocial and obese potential serial killers.
• If it can explode, implode, combust, maim, kill or cause grievous personal harm, it is definitively, bitchin'
• Craftsman or preferably Snap-On tools are bitchin'.
• Gift certificates to Chaparral, with face values of four digits or more qualify as bitchin'.
• Pokemon is Satan in a yellow suit, boycott him.
• Anything controlled by the B.A.T.F. is a guaranteed hit.
• Brand new KTM's are bitchin'. (Special request from me to Santa!)
• Brand new Banshee's, while not bitchin', will do.
• Ford 4x4's are totally bitchin'.
• Anything advertised at Off-Road.com is of course certified as bitchin' by our team of experts.
• And as always, cash is king!

   Now that all you wonderful and generous Grannies out there are informed as to what your favorite grand kids need to ensure a truly joyous holiday season, I can get in some shopping of my own!    I'm off to battle with the throngs of agitated shoppers, on a Quixotic quest for the ever elusive "Perfect Gift™". The mall parking lots will become Thunderdomes in the coming weeks, leading up to the final grand crescendo on the last of the shopping days, Christmas Eve.    In preparation to be cut off and perhaps rammed by a fleet of little gray Honda's piloted by maniacal woman shoppers, hopped up on Prozac, Zoloft and other assorted mood elevating, anti-depressant holiday medications. I'm driving the F350, wearing my Simpson Carbon Fiber and a Nomex suit! 8000lbs of hulking sheet metal and raw Diesel power is unlikely to deter these parking lot gladiators, but at least I'll be somewhat protected from their assaults...   These women will make the mall parking lots more vicious and more dangerous than my first lap around the oval at Ascot. Never mind speedway bikes go 100 mph and have no brakes, and being the "new guy" in a speedway race is the motor sport equivalent to your first night in a Federal Correctional Facility. I'd brave the quarter mile armed only with a 500cc alcohol guzzling Jawa and a steel boot gladly before a foray into the mayhem at the mall...    Be Careful out there! And remember... While diamonds may be forever... Nothing glistens under the tree like a brand new bike!

                Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good ride!  Mr.Dune

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A note from the Editor… This is my forum, not yours! If you don't like my views or opinions, then get a life!...Ed.

E-mail Mr Dune at:  mrdune@off-road.com   for instructions on finding a life.

PREVIOUS ARTICLES
Nov. 1999 "Every Turkey Has It's Day"
Oct. 1999 "Disinformatzia"
Sep. 1999 "Return of the Living Dead"
April 1998 "Green Stickers and Sacramento Slickers"
March 1998 "Fees At Glamis"
Feb. 1998 "Greens At Glamis"
Jan. 1998 "New Years Resolutions"
Dec.1997 "The BLM" (Bureau of Lame Mismanagement)
Nov. 1997 "Chicks In The Desert"

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