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Moosehead
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1,908 Posts
Discussion Starter · #1 · (Edited)
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the forum
Few Homers were riding, just dying of boredom;
Turners were hung in the garage with great care,
A new horse maybe coming, it’s something quite rare.
Those sick and twisted, brought bikes in their beds,
While TA, still laid up, rambled on, it’s the meds;
And the wife waited endlessly for some action,
But Dood just kept surfing for Big Betty with traction,
It’s different for Tscheese, as he’s freshly married,
Best wishes, congrats, post more photos, moss looks hairy.

Then out on the lawn something fell in the bush,
One wishes it would be a package from Push.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
When, what to my wondering eyes should sight,
But a fully-blinged sleigh, and six mountain bikes,
Mysterious riders on a powerful wave,
Horst Leitner, and two guys named Dave.
Their bikes were brilliant, more speedy than eagles,
The latest genius served up by one, Mr. Weagle;
Now Fluxie, now Sultan, now DHR and Spot!
Two years later RFX, a new Highline would be Hawt!

Legend says that on Christmas, King Homer was born,
Wrong date, right title, most posts: Cactus Corn
Homers in Israel or those with a Torah
Don’t feel left out, near the tree, a Menorah!
Should you celebrate Kwanza, Festivus, or are Pagans,
Come all ye Homers, check Tidy, he is Satan!
To the top of the mountains to the gnarliest gnar,
Now dash away, crash away, over-the bars!
A recession and big price, some say tough to sell it
Understand us Homers, we’ll buy it, we’re zealots!
Rene swears on a new DWL rig, he’ll get laid,
More likely she’ll insist in being well paid,
Turners sport slick bushings, nimble handling, anti-squat,
See trolls pimp the board – sphincter say what?
Davide, Racer X, and some others bring crap,
Causing Homers to dogpile, expect a beyotch slap!
Other rigs made of plastic and curves, some think sexy,
Though they are clearly quite fragile, look flexy.

OT from the thread, didn’t mean to derail,
Where were we? Oh yea, on the roof with air mail,
He was dressed all in fur, head to toe, my how bold,
At first, we thought, holy sheit, it’s White Gold!
His clothes were bright red, what a thrill, uh….
Then he hucked roof to flat, is it Zilla?
A bundle of swag he had hung on his spine,
Ti Springs, Formula brakes, thru axles, I-9’s!
His eyes - how they twinkled, oh no - that’s a boner!
Dood’s overly excited for bling, what a Homer!
His designs bleeding edge, tight tolerances, we laugh,
Homers knowledge, anal thinking, protractors, and graphs
Hard to believe this geeked game that we’re playin,
Waiting patiently for DT to post, just sayin.

He had a big grin and a washboard belly,
Sporting spandex, some armor, all of it smelly.
He spoke not a word, leaving presents wrapped in bows,
(Do you believe that guy Tony E? What a Ho!)
Then he topped off the zerks; oh the customer service,
Making all the overseas bike builders quite nervous,
Then he sprang up the chimney, nothing too steep,
For a Clyde on a Turner, climbing prowess that’s sweet,
I heard him exclaim, as he turned back to the night,
“Merry Christmas to all, see the D-Dub is tight!”
 

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Most Excellent! Mrs. Santa even approves.



Well she claimed to be Mrs. Santa at the bar last night . . . .
 
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