The Official Christmas Thread, 2016

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  • Well, it's now December 1st & it's that time of year where a lot of our thoughts & energies are focused on Christmas & all that it stands for - religion, family, friends, gifts, food, time off from work, etc. Let's use this thread to celebrate Christmas. As my contribution, I submit the following...


    Twas the night before Christmas (Slingshot Style)


    I originally posted this on The Dark Side in December of 2015 but wanted to share it here on our new home...


    (Apologies to Clement Clarke Moore, author of the original poem)


    This poem has had a "mod" performed by Tripod for the amusement of the forum.


    Originally dedicated to Henry of Alpha Powersports, @Turbosling, but really it's for ALL of our wonderful vendors, our turbo owners & to EVERYONE on this awesome forum! Hope you all enjoy it...



    Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
    Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
    The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
    In hopes that St. Henry soon would be there.


    The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
    While visions of new mods danced in their heads.
    Mama in her sleazy nightgown and I in just my Slingshot cap,
    Had just settled ourselves for a "hot" winter’s "nap".
    When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
    I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
    Away to the window I flew like a flash,
    Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.


    The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
    Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
    When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
    But a Alpha monster, and eight turboed "cylindeers".
    With a little Asian driver, so lively and ornery,
    I knew in a moment it must be St Henry.


    More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
    And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
    "Now Rabtech! Now, Kenny! Now, Stickerdick and Shack!
    On, Cameron! On, Tango! On Jorge and FITS!
    To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
    Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"


    As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
    When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
    So up to the house top, the coursers they flew,
    With the Sling full of mods, and St. Henry too.


    And then, in a twinkling, I heard from his bearing
    The telltale "clicking" but St. Henry not caring.
    As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
    Down the chimney St. Henry came with a bound.
    He was dressed all in leather, from his head to his foot,
    And his clothes were all tarnished with axle grease and soot.
    A bundle of mods he had flung on his back,
    He looked like a vendor, just opening his pack,
    (And the hot babe that was with him had a really nice rack!)


    His eyes how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
    His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
    His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
    And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
    The stump of a hash pipe he held tight in his teeth,
    And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
    He had a broad face and a little round belly,
    That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!


    He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
    And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
    A wink of his eye and a 'twist' of his head,
    Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
    He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
    And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
    And laying his finger aside of his nose,
    And giving a nod, up the chimney with boost he arose!
    He sprang to his Slingshot, to his team gave a whistle,
    And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
    But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
    "Happy 'SlingMods' to all, and to all a good-night!"

    Slingshots: making children out of adults since 2014

    Edited once, last by Tripod ().

  • And a serious one originally posted by @BKL on TDS last Christmas - thank you, Brother...


    He Lived All Alone,
    In A One Bedroom House
    Made Of Plaster And Stone.


    I Had Come Down The Chimney
    With Presents To Give,
    And To See Just Who
    In This Home Did Live.


    I Looked All About,
    A Strange Sight I Did See,
    No Tinsel, No Presents,
    Not Even A Tree.


    No Stocking By Mantle,
    Just Boots Filled With Sand,
    On The Wall Hung Pictures
    Of Far Distant Lands.


    With Medals And Badges,
    Awards Of All Kinds,
    A Sober Thought
    Came Through My Mind.


    For This House Was Different,
    It Was Dark And Dreary,
    I Found The Home Of A Soldier,
    Once I Could See Clearly.


    The Soldier Lay Sleeping,
    Silent, Alone,
    Curled Up On The Floor
    In This One Bedroom Home.


    The Face Was So Gentle,
    The Room In Such Disorder,
    Not How I Pictured
    A United States Soldier.


    Was This The Hero
    Of Whom I'd Just Read?
    Curled Up On A Poncho,
    The Floor For A Bed?


    I Realized The Families
    That I Saw This Night,
    Owed Their Lives To These Soldiers
    Who Were Willing To Fight.


    Soon Round The World,
    The Children Would Play,
    And Grownups Would Celebrate
    A Bright Christmas Day.


    They All Enjoyed Freedom
    Each Month of the Year,
    Because Of the Soldiers,
    Like the One Lying Here.


    I Couldn't Help Wonder
    How Many Lay Alone,
    On A Cold Christmas Eve
    In A Land Far,From Home.


    The Very Thought
    Brought A Tear To My Eye,
    I Dropped To My Knees
    And Started To Cry.


    The Soldier Awakened
    And I Heard A Rough Voice,
    "Santa Don't Cry,
    This Life Is My Choice;


    I Fight For Freedom,
    I Don't Ask For More,
    My Life Is My God,
    My Country, My Corps.
    The Soldier Rolled Over
    And Drifted To Sleep,
    I Couldn't Control It,
    I Continued To Weep.


    I Kept Watch for Hours,
    So Silent and Still
    and We Both Shivered
    From the Cold Night's Chill.


    I Didn't Want To Leave
    On That Cold, Dark, Night,
    This Guardian Of Honor
    So Willing To Fight.


    Then The Soldier Rolled Over,
    With A Voice Soft And Pure,
    Whispered, "Carry On Santa,
    It's Christmas Day, All Is Secure."


    One Look at My Watch,
    And I Knew He Was Right.
    "Merry Christmas My Friend,
    and To All A Good Night."



    Army, Air Force, Marines, Navy, Coast Guard

    Slingshots: making children out of adults since 2014

  • And another I posted last year along the same lines...


    The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
    I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
    My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
    My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
    Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
    Transforming the yard to a winter delight.


    The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
    Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
    My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
    Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
    In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
    So slumbered I, perhaps I started to dream.


    The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
    But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.


    Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know,


    Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.


    My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
    And I crept to the door just to see who was near.


    Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
    A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.


    A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
    Perhaps a Trooper, huddled here in the cold.


    Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
    Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.


    "What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
    "Come in this moment. It's freezing out here!


    Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
    You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"


    For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
    Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts.


    To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
    Then he sighed and he said, "It's really all right,
    I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night."


    "It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
    That separates you from the darkest of times.


    No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
    I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
    My Father died in Viet Nam on a day in December,"
    Then he said,
    "That's a Christmas 'Mom always remembers."
    I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
    But my wife sends me pictures. He's sure got her smile.


    Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
    The red, white, and blue American Flag.
    I can live through the cold and the being alone,
    Away from my family, my house and my home.
    I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
    I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
    I can carry the weight of killing another,
    Or lay down my life with my sister and brother.
    Who stand at the front against any and all,
    To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."


    "So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,
    Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
    "But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
    "Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?
    It seems all too little for all that you've done,
    For being away from your wife and your son."
    Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
    "Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
    To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,
    To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
    For when we come home, either standing or dead,
    To know you remember we fought and we bled.
    Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
    That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."


    GOD BLESS OUR TROOPS & GOD BLESS AMERICA

    Slingshots: making children out of adults since 2014

  • Well, What the Heck, I'll keep with the Mexican theme :00007983:


    Twas the night before Christmas, and all through la casa,
    Not a creature was stirring, I wondered, que pasa?
    I was hanging the stockings with mucho cuidado,
    In hopes that old Santa would feel obligado,
    To bring all the children, both buenos y malos,
    A nice batch of dulces and other regalos.
    My brothers and I went to sleep in our camas,
    Some in long underwear, and some in piyamas.
    When out in the yard there arose such a grito,
    That I jumped to my feet like a frightened cabrito.
    I ran to the window and looked afuera.
    And who in the world do you think quien era?
    St. Nick in a sleigh and a big sombrero
    Came dashing along like a little bombero.
    And pulling his sleigh instead of venados,
    Were eight little burros, approaching volados.
    I watched as they came, and this fat little hombre
    Was shouting and whistling, and calling by nombre:
    Ay Pancho, ay Pepe, ay Cuca, ay Beto!
    Ay Chata, ay Chopo, Maruca y Nieto!
    Then standing erect, with his hands on his pecho,
    He flew to the top of our very own techo.
    With his round little belly like a bowl of jalea,
    He struggled to squeeze down our old chimenea.
    Then huffing and puffing, a little cansado,
    He picked up a bag that looked muy pesado.
    He filled all the stockings with lovely regalos.
    Then chuckling aloud, seeming very contento,
    He turned like a flash and was gone like the viento.
    And I heard him exclaim, and this is verdad:
    Merry Christmas a todos ... feliz navidad!


    Merry Christmas Everyone. Have a safe and joyous Holiday Season

  • ¡EXCELENTE!

    Slingshots: making children out of adults since 2014

  • Don't forget the coon ass version.


    Twas the night before Christmas an' all t'ru de house,
    Dey don't a ting pass Not even a mouse.
    De chirren been nezzle good snug on de flo',
    An' Mama pass de pepper t'ru de crack on de do'.



    De Mama in de fireplace done roas' up de ham,
    Sit up de gumbo an' make de bake yam.
    Den out on de by-you dey got such a clatter,
    Make soun' like old Boudreau done fall off his ladder.



    I run like a rabbit to got to de do',
    Trip over de dorg an' fall on de flo'.
    As I look out de do'in de light o' de moon,
    I t'ink, "Mahn, you crazy or got ol' too soon."



    Cux dere on de by-you w'en I stretch ma'neck stiff,
    Dere's eight alligator a pullin' de skiff.
    An' a little fat drover wit' a long pole-ing stick,
    I know r'at away got to be ole St.Nick.



    Mo' fas'er an' fas'er de' gator dey came
    He whistle an' holler an' call dem by name:
    "Ha, Gaston! Ha, Tiboy! Ha, Pierre an' Alcee'!
    Gee, Ninette! Gee, Suzette! Celeste an'Renee'!



    To de top o' de porch to de top o' de wall,
    Make crawl, alligator, an' be sho' you don' fall."
    Like Tante Flo's cat t'ru de treetop he fly,
    W'en de big ole houn' dorg come a run hisse's by.



    Like dat up de porch dem ole 'gator clim!
    Wit' de skiff full o' toy an' St. Nicklus behin'.
    Den on top de porch roof it soun' like de hail,
    W'en all dem big gator, done sot down dey tail.



    Den down de chimney I yell wit' a bam,
    An' St.Nicklus fall an' sit on de yam.
    "Sacre!" he axclaim, "Ma pant got a hole
    I done sot ma'se'f on dem red hot coal."



    He got on his foots an' jump like de cat
    Out to de flo' where he lan' wit' a SPLAT!
    He was dress in musk-rat from his head to his foot,
    An' his clothes is all dirty wit' ashes an' soot.



    A sack full o' playt'ing he t'row on his back,
    He look like a burglar an' dass fo' a fack.
    His eyes how dey shine his dimple, how merry!
    Maybe he been drink de wine from de blackberry.



    His cheek was like a rose his nose a cherry,
    On secon' t'ought maybe he lap up de sherry.
    Wit' snow-white chin whisker an' quiverin' belly,
    He shook w'en he laugh like de stromberry jelly!



    But a wink in his eye an' a shook o' his head,
    Make my confi-dence dat I don't got to be scared.
    He don' do no talkin' gone strit to hi work,
    Put a playt'ing in sock an' den turn wit' a jerk.



    He put bot' his han' dere on top o' his head,
    Cas' an eye on de chimney an' den he done said:
    "Wit' all o' dat fire an' dem burnin' hot flame,
    Me I ain' goin' back by de way dat I came."



    So he run out de do' an, he clim' to de roof,
    He ain' no fool, him for to make one more goof.
    He jump in his skiff an' crack his big whip,
    De' gator move down, An don' make one slip.



    An' I hear him shout loud as a splashin' he go,
    "Merry Christmas to all 'til I saw you some mo'!"

    :BLUESS:
    Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do.
    ~Mark Twain~

  • I'll put my edu-spin on it... (not original, found online)


    ‘Twas the days before Christmas,
    And all through the school,
    The teachers were trying
    To just keep their cool.
    The hallways were hung
    With Christmas art
    (Some made in November
    to get a head start!)
    The children were bouncing
    Off ceilings and walls,
    And seemed to forget
    How to walk in the halls.
    When out of the teachers’ lounge
    With “holiday shirts”
    And “jingle bell jewels”,
    The teachers looked festive
    Enfourcing the rules.
    Suddenly, from down the hallway
    There came such a chatter,
    The princal went in
    To see what was the matter.
    The teachers were hiding
    And trying to refuel,
    On coffee and cookies
    And treats from the Yule.
    When what to their wondering
    Ears do they hear,
    But the ringing of school bells
    – It’s the children, they fear!
    More rapid than reindeer
    The little ones came,
    And the teachers all shouted
    and called them by name;
    Walk, Vincent! Walk, Tanner!
    Walk, Tyler & Sammy!
    Sit, Jamie! Sit, Laura!
    Sit, Tara & Tammy!
    To your desks in the room!
    To your spots in the line!
    Now walk to them! Walk to them!
    No running this time!
    So straight to their places
    The children all went.
    With fear of detention
    Where they could be sent.
    With manuals of lessons
    Cradled in arms,
    The teachers began
    To use all of their charms.
    But the lessons presented
    All fell on deaf ears.
    The children were thinking
    Of Santa’s reindeer!
    With a toss of their hands
    They put manuals aside,
    Went straight to the cupboards
    Where videos hide.
    And laying their fingers
    On the tv remote
    They sat back to write
    Their last Christmas note.
    But you could hear them exclaim
    At the end of the day –
    Have a wonderful, happy, and
    L-O-O-O-O-O-NG HOLIDAY!!!


  • I remember this!!!