longtime
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- Oct 7, 1999
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My unrequested take on the rather-long melodrama unfolding on another flame-board thread after a run of the mill deletion of a questionable post about the fake you-know-whats that some folks now hang from their trucks ( I guess this is common in Missouri, to the chagrine of the original poster).
Here goes (and I know, I know -- I'm not quitting my day job). Here's the story I'd tell if I were Swade in that thread:
"The boys were there, yessir I done seen 'em
Playin', and swayin', they wuz' darn near a' jigglin'
They were so happy, and free, indeed they wuz' joyous
No fear of work, taxes, ex-wives and/or lawyers
Nah they wuz a giddy, and red -- and lookin' so fierce
As they was bouncin', and hangin', and set to the rears
The Ford they adorned I swear that it seemed
Liked them so much that it danced . . . oh yes, yes it preened
I chuckled, I know, now, 'twas such a mistake
I should have considered them stupid, a fake
But hangin' all red, and big, and so bold
Though rubber, man please, am I clearly so old?
NO! I recognized Man as it was, so a-loomin
Virile, testy, albeit no groomin'!
Laughed out loud, darn! -- not at my best,
For my wife she she did grill me -- at last I confessed.
How could I laugh, or even I smile?
At something that clearly was so infantile?
No, that set hangin' a-rear from the bumper
Must be clipped off, discarded, and sent to the dumper.
Like other male symbols that grown men may carry
Of hormones, so foul, that is 'til they marry.
Suitably chastised, now clean of the stain,
I now knew better, but other men . . . shame?
No, I knew I must help them, must tell them, must share
They must be enlightened, 'specially those with no care.
So who did I turn to, yes who did I save?
Why dirtbikers, that's who, for manly endeavors they crave.
These friends play in mud, dirt, sand, and on bumps,
They play in the whoops, on turns, berms and jumps.
But whether in desert, forest, dunes or the woods
They always are bringin' the jewels, yes, the goods.
Dirty men, they, always bars a bangin'
Without proper trainin', yes they'd laugh at balls hangin'!
So I wrote it up proper, that's just what I did!
Wrote it up proper, then I hit "submit."
But thinkin' to be helpin' my brothers so lost
Ends up I was wrong, and was Senior so cross!
Well the mods they done dumped it, erased it an stopped it
Clipped the story so clean, that they over-the-topped it!
So I told em' no fair, I was funnin', that's all
What with April Fool's loomin, this tale's not so tall!
Give me money, my support's a laggin'
I'm one funny guy, that's the truth, not no braggin'
I even to help them gave my hourly rate
for writing such humor, as the sac-from- tailgate."
Here goes (and I know, I know -- I'm not quitting my day job). Here's the story I'd tell if I were Swade in that thread:
"The boys were there, yessir I done seen 'em
Playin', and swayin', they wuz' darn near a' jigglin'
They were so happy, and free, indeed they wuz' joyous
No fear of work, taxes, ex-wives and/or lawyers
Nah they wuz a giddy, and red -- and lookin' so fierce
As they was bouncin', and hangin', and set to the rears
The Ford they adorned I swear that it seemed
Liked them so much that it danced . . . oh yes, yes it preened
I chuckled, I know, now, 'twas such a mistake
I should have considered them stupid, a fake
But hangin' all red, and big, and so bold
Though rubber, man please, am I clearly so old?
NO! I recognized Man as it was, so a-loomin
Virile, testy, albeit no groomin'!
Laughed out loud, darn! -- not at my best,
For my wife she she did grill me -- at last I confessed.
How could I laugh, or even I smile?
At something that clearly was so infantile?
No, that set hangin' a-rear from the bumper
Must be clipped off, discarded, and sent to the dumper.
Like other male symbols that grown men may carry
Of hormones, so foul, that is 'til they marry.
Suitably chastised, now clean of the stain,
I now knew better, but other men . . . shame?
No, I knew I must help them, must tell them, must share
They must be enlightened, 'specially those with no care.
So who did I turn to, yes who did I save?
Why dirtbikers, that's who, for manly endeavors they crave.
These friends play in mud, dirt, sand, and on bumps,
They play in the whoops, on turns, berms and jumps.
But whether in desert, forest, dunes or the woods
They always are bringin' the jewels, yes, the goods.
Dirty men, they, always bars a bangin'
Without proper trainin', yes they'd laugh at balls hangin'!
So I wrote it up proper, that's just what I did!
Wrote it up proper, then I hit "submit."
But thinkin' to be helpin' my brothers so lost
Ends up I was wrong, and was Senior so cross!
Well the mods they done dumped it, erased it an stopped it
Clipped the story so clean, that they over-the-topped it!
So I told em' no fair, I was funnin', that's all
What with April Fool's loomin, this tale's not so tall!
Give me money, my support's a laggin'
I'm one funny guy, that's the truth, not no braggin'
I even to help them gave my hourly rate
for writing such humor, as the sac-from- tailgate."
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