Merry Kringle

‘Twas the day before Christmas, when through all of the paddocks.
Not a motor was idling, not even a single Cosworth “Lump” could be heard.
The garages were swept and tidied with care, In hopes that Roger Penske soon would be there; The mechanics were nestled all snug in their beds.While visions of Championship bonuses danced in their heads. (Not to mention Hulioe!)And “Princess” in her negligee, and Paul Tracy in his crash bucket, had just settled down for a quick tryst in the sack.
When out on the lawn there arose such a racket, ‘ol PT sprang from the bed to see what “TAG, Suitcase Servia, Whiney Bags and Bad Bobby D’ were groaning about.

Away to the window Tracy flew like a demon. Ran over the back markers and punted the Hamburgular clear outta the way.

The smoke from between Sea Bass’s ears. Glistened like a smoke signal, without a glow. When, what to PT’s wandering eyes should appear.But a Ferrari ENZO followed by an armada of Prancing Horses in tow.
The ENZO was piloted by an ex-Formula 1 driver, still brutally quick.That Tracy knew in an instant it must be Michael Schumacher.More rapid than a grid full of Bridgestone alternate “soft tyre” Formula 1 chassis in “Qualie Two” light fuel tanks mode. The seven times World Champion whistled and jeered, and called them by name;

Now, Mika now, Coulthard! Now, Rubinoe and Ralfanso!
On, Heinz-Harald! On Villeneuve! On Damion and Irvine!

To the front of the grid! To the head of the pack.
Now burn rubber, burn rubber baby, burn rubber quick!

As tyre tracks that leave ominous black streaks behind. While Herr Schumacher leaves another competitor far behind!

So up to the roof-top the Prancing Horses flew. With trunk loads of presents and Schuey too. And then, came a banshee wail of the ENZO, high atop the roof.

The revving and idling of each assorted Ferrari. As PT rubbed his hands. Down the chimney Schuey forlornly came. He was dressed all in Scuderia Red, from his head to his foot.And his Nomex driver’s suit was all tarnished with ashes and soot; an assortment of winning trophies, he’d stuffed into his back pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! His rosy cheeks, how they glowed.
His hair as always was perfect, his jaw like a chisel! His lips clenched in a mischievous smirk. As the smile was reminiscent of a Cheshire cat;

The remains of a Cuban cigar hung limply from his teeth. As clouds of Smoke encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a taunt face and washboard abs. that still showed his youthful physique when he laughed at the dumbfounded PT. He was strong and fit as an ox, a festive and jolly elf; Thus Tracy could only laugh when he appeared
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head. Soon gave PT nothing to fear. As Schuey spoke nary a word, but went straight to his work. Filling all of the stockings with various racing trinkets. (Such as the 2002 Borg Warner Cup, a new three year contract signed by P.L. Newman & Carl Haas along with some of the Hamburgular’s secret winning sauce…)

Before PT could wipe away his astonishment, the famous German turned Quickly, laying his finger aside of his nose. And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose; He sprang to his idling ENZO, and to his waiting minions gave a whistle. And the screeching of tortured Ferrari lumps could be heard as they burst away like rocket ships! But ‘ol PT heard him exclaim, as he power-slided out of sight;
"Happy Holidays to all, and to all a good-night."

Felice Navidad
Tomaso

Fright Nite

Original lyrics from Monster Mash
Performed by: 'Boris Picket and the Crypt Kickers,' 1962
(Written by Bobby (Boris) Picket and Lenny Capizzi)

Ah, where’s Vincent Price when yuh needs him, eh?

I was working on the “Confuzer” late one night

When my eyes beheld an eerie sight

From my monitor a scary picture began to show
And suddenly to my surprise
The image on my screen began to sing



He did the mash

He did the RASSCAR mash

The RASSCAR mash

It was a graveyard smash

He did the mash

It caught on in a flash

He did the mash

He did the RASSCAR mash


From my humble apartment’s abode
To the room’s cathode ray glow
And amongst the Nabors dwellings
Where the vampires feast

The ghouls all came out from their alcoves
Chanting “Jimmy! Jimmy! Jimmy!”
Hoping to snatch a peak
Of some Roundy-round racin’
Flickering on my TV
(Thru the patio’s window)

They did the mash

They did the RASSCAR mash

The RASSCAR mash

It was a graveyard smash

They did the mash

It caught on in a flash

They did the mash

They did the RASSCAR mash



The “Junior Nation” zombies were having some fun

Hoping “Little E’s” resurgence would soon begin

The guests included Kenny Wallace
Larry MacReynolds, Mr. Goodbar
And the rest of the SPEED TV “Freak Nation” crew

And the building was rockin'

Everyone having to put up with the blare of the next door neighbor’s surround sound TV wailing a pitiful noise
That sounded like Rusty Wallace scratchin’ a chalkboard
While a pair ‘O Beagle’s howled in misery
As Dusk turned to Night
And the little Coffin-Bangers were soon to arrive With their candy bags and dressed up
As "The Crypt-Kicker Five"



And the TV kept playin’

the mash The RASSCAR mash

The RASSCAR mash

It was a graveyard smash

As the TV blared the mash

It caught on in a flash

As it played the mash

It continued to play the RASSCAR mash



Out from my room,

my voice crackled loudly
As once again I was disgusted
Yelling loudly and shaking my fistsI screamed

How long do we have to listen to this?
As the drone of ‘lil Trick ‘N Treaters knocked on the door

As the next door TV still blared the mash

Except It's now more commonly known
As the RASSCAR mash

The RASSCAR mash

But its almost over
That Monster Y’all know
As the Chase...

Somewhere down that Crazy River

(Original lyrics: Somewhere down that Crazy River by Robbie Robertson)

Yea! , I can see it now
(A single, consolidated Open Wheel Racing series)

The sycamore shriveling in the winter cold
I was feeling like a stranger in a strange land

You know where people play games with the few remaining fans

But, it was too hot to sleep

So I followed the call of a lone Open Wheel reporter (Robin Miller) warily poundin’ away at his keyboard in the dead ‘O night
All of a sudden I could hear somebody whistling Dixie

From right behind meI turned around and she said"

Why do you always end up reading SPEED TV in the middle of the night?
I said "I don't know, I just keep hopin’ there’ll finally be a
REALLY- REALLY-REALLY BIG ANNOUNCEMENT…”
She said "Hang the RICH!"

And catch the blue train

To places you’ve never been before,
Darling, You should just really
Come back to bed
‘Cause I’ve been having crazy dreams about going

Somewhere down a crazy river

Somewhere down a crazy river
So perhaps we should Just hop the blue train

All the way to 16th Street and Georgetown

Before we end up

Somewhere down the crazy river

Somewhere down the crazy river

Quick! Take a picture of this

The grandstands are full at PIR,
Lola, Reynard, Swift, Truesport, AAR and Penske chassis abound
While I listen to Elton John beltin’ out
“Saturday Nite’s alright for fighting”
But hey, back in ‘dem Good ‘Ol Days
When Bloody Nige drove for Newman Haas,
That's when time stood still

You know, Tony George once went
Down to Madam X’s

To let her read his palm

She said if you build it
(Your own racing series)
They’ll come
(Or was that Bill France Jr?)
And Tony said good ‘cause
I'm a man with a clear destination

I'm a man with a broad imagination

But he had clouded visions ‘O grandeur
While his counterparts at CCWS
Promised to stir our souls
With the rebirth of Champ Car
Yet, I can't find them anywhere on the Disney World Networks
Quick pass me that remote control

Gotta run, because it’s almost time to
Catch that blue train to places I’ve never been before

But look for me

Somewhere down that crazy river

Somewhere down that crazy river

'Cause I’m catchin’ that blue train

All the way to 16th Street and Georgetown
Unless the merger talks once again
End up

Somewhere down that crazy river

Somewhere down that crazy river

Wait, did you hear that?
There’s gonna be a press conference

Which is sure stirring up some ghosts for me

As Tony George said, Son; "There's one thing you've got to learn Not to be afraid of!

"I said "No, I like it, I like it, (Geez, what did you think I meant?)
I really like Open Wheel Racing, ‘cause its good!"
(Beats the HELL outta RASSCAR!!!)

That’s good boy
‘Cause if "You like it nowThen you'll learn to love it later."
(Watchin’ us pound around those “Bull Ring” Ovals…)

As I’ll bet you’ll become dizzy
Watching us race at places like Iowa and Kansas City
Damn, Tony! All that Oval talk is enough To give me shivers - chills and fever
Which makes me wonder if it’s just all a

Bizarre dream of going
somewhere down a crazy river…

Ode to RASSCAR

(Original lyrics: Blondie; Rapture)

Toe to toe

Dancing very slow

Barely breathing

Almost comatose

Wall to wall

People hypnotized

And they're stepping lightly

Hang each night in Rapture

Back to back

Sacrailiac

Spineless movement

And a wild attack

Face to face

Sadly solitude

And it's finger popping

Twenty-four hour shopping

In Junior Nation

“Flavour Flav Five” told me everybody's high

DJ's spinning' are saving' my mind

Flash is Fast, Flash is cool

Jacke Vanilla sez fast, Flashe' no do

And you try to stop
((Watching’ MAC Montoya & ALL those Open Wheel DEFECTORS!)
Sure shit
Just go out to the parking lot

Get in your car and you drive real far

(Away from the track!)

After you drive all night, you see a light

And it comes right down and lands on the ground

And out comes a man from RASSCAR!

(Mike Helton)

And you try to run but he's got a gun

and he shoots you dead and he eats your head

And then you're in the man from RASSCAR

You go out at night, eatin' cars

You eat Chargers, Fusion’s, Impalas And “Toy-yoter” Camaries too

And you don't stop, you keep on eatin' cars

Then, when there's no more cars

You go out at night and eat up Single Seater racing series
Like Champ Car and the IRL
While ‘Ol timers desperately cling to fantasies of a renaissance

Face to face, dance cheek to cheek
One to one, man to man

Dance toe to toe

Don't move to slow, 'cause the man from RASSCAR is cutting thru
(Excuse me Helio)

But Mr. Helton’s through with the competition
‘cause he's been eatin' a ton ‘O snicker bars

Yeah, wall to wall, door to door, hall to hall

He's gonna eat 'em all

Rapture,

Be pure

Take a tour; through the sewer

Don't strain your brain
Just say Boog-itee- Boog-itee- Boog-itee!
Paint a train, cause you’ll be singing' in the rain
If dare ain’t some RASSCAR on real soon

I say stop throwin those mountain dew cans at Pretty Boy Floyd
Junior Nation!

Just be good ‘ol boyzs

Well now you see what you want to be
Just like Mike, who’s trying to pump up his ratings on TV

'Cause the man from RASSCAR won't eat up bars when the TV's on

And now he's gone back up to MARS

Where he won't have a hassle with

The human race

And you hip-hop, and you don't stop

Just blast off, sure shot

'Cause the man from RASSCAR stopped eatin' cars

And now he only eats guitars, get up; ‘Cause he’s gone Hollywood…

Merry Kringle

‘Twas the day before Christmas, when through all of the paddocks.
Not a motor was idling, not even a single Cosworth “Lump” could be heard.
The garages were swept and tidied with care, In hopes that Roger Penske soon would be there; The mechanics were nestled all snug in their beds.While visions of Championship bonuses danced in their heads. (Not to mention Helioe!)And “Princess” in her negligee, and Paul Tracy in his crash bucket, had just settled down for a quick tryst in the sack.
When out on the lawn there arose such a racket, ‘ol PT sprang from the bed to see what “TAG, Suitcase Servia, Whiney Bags and Bad Bobby D’ were groaning about.

Away to the window Tracy flew like a demon. Ran over the back markers and punted the Hamburgular clear outta the way.

The smoke from between Sea Bass’s ears. Glistened like a smoke signal, without a glow. When, what to PT’s wandering eyes should appear.But a Ferrari ENZO followed by an armada of Prancing Horses in tow.
The ENZO was piloted by an ex-Formula 1 driver, still brutally quick.That Tracy knew in an instant it must be Michael Schumacher.More rapid than a grid full of Bridgestone alternate “soft tyre” Formula 1 chassis in “Qualie Two” light fuel tanks mode. The seven times World Champion whistled and jeered, and called them by name;

Now, Mika now, Coulthard! Now, Rubinoe and Ralfanso!
On, Heinz-Harald! On Villeneuve! On Damion and Irvine!

To the front of the grid! To the head of the pack.
Now burn rubber, burn rubber baby, burn rubber quick!

As tyre tracks that leave ominous black streaks behind. While Herr Schumacher leaves another competitor far behind!

So up to the roof-top the Prancing Horses flew. With trunk loads of presents and Schuey too. And then, came a banshee wail of the ENZO, high atop the roof.

The revving and idling of each assorted Ferrari. As PT rubbed his hands. Down the chimney Schuey forlornly came. He was dressed all in Scuderia Red, from his head to his foot.And his Nomex driver’s suit was all tarnished with ashes and soot; an assortment of winning trophies, he’d stuffed into his back pack.

His eyes -- how they twinkled! His rosy cheeks, how they glowed.
His hair as always was perfect, his jaw like a chisel! His lips clenched in a mischievous smirk. As the smile was reminiscent of a Cheshire cat;

The remains of a Cuban cigar hung limply from his teeth. As clouds of Smoke encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a taunt face and washboard abs. that still showed his youthful physique when he laughed at the dumbfounded PT. He was strong and fit as an ox, a festive and jolly elf; Thus Tracy could only laugh when he appeared
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head. Soon gave PT nothing to fear. As Schuey spoke nary a word, but went straight to his work. Filling all of the stockings with various racing trinkets. (Such as the 2002 Borg Warner Cup, a new two year contract signed by P.L. Newman & Carl Haas along with some of the Hamburgular’s secret winning sauce…)

Before PT could wipe away his astonishment, the famous German turned Quickly, laying his finger aside of his nose. And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose; He sprang to his idling ENZO, and to his waiting minions gave a whistle. And the screeching of tortured Ferrari lumps could be heard as they burst away like rocket ships! But ‘ol PT heard him exclaim, as he power-slided out of sight;

"Happy Holidays to all, and to all a good-night."

Merry Christmas!