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An IndyCar/Christmas Vacation Holiday Extravaganza

Well, it’s Christmas for IndyCar.  And since IndyCar sometimes seems as dysfunctional as the Griswold household, this holiday season I’ll be tossing out some quotes from National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. To add to the festivities, I’ll connect the names of the characters from the movie with someone in IndyCar.  So put some “non-caloric silicon-based kitchen lubricant” on your saucer and head on down the hill.

Clark: Where do you think you’re going? Nobody’s leaving. Nobody’s walking out on this fun, old-fashioned family Christmas. No, no. We’re all in this together. This is a full-blown, four-alarm holiday emergency here. We’re gonna press on, and we’re gonna have the hap, hap, happiest Christmas since Bing Crosby tap-danced with Danny f—ing Kaye. And when Santa squeezes his fat white ass down that chimney tonight, he’s gonna find the jolliest bunch of assholes this side of the nuthouse.

This can only be poor Randy Bernard as he’s channeling Clark Griswold’s existential moment.  Bernard faces the hardest winter ever in IndyCar.  Sponsors are running for the hills, a new car shows no speed on ovals, the press continues to hammer him about Las Vegas, Newman/Haas shuts its doors, and he has to hire a new Race Director to replace Brian Barnhart.  Here’s hoping for a happy ending to this Christmas Story.

Ellen: What are you looking at?
Clark: Oh, the silent majesty of a winter’s morn… the clean, cool chill of the holiday air… and an asshole in his bathrobe, emptying a chemical toilet into my sewer…
Eddie: Shitter was full!

Why do we love Eddie?  We love him because we all know him.  Or in my case, I may be him.  But who in the IndyCar world would empty a chemical toilet into the sewer?  Robin Miller!  Robin is cousin Eddie!  It fits.  He says all the things that no one else can say and gets away with it.  He’s that semi-lovable relative that never goes away.  And he not only empties the toilet, he fills it up with hate.  And really, wouldn’t you like to see him do the grid run in a bathrobe?

Clark: Hey. If any of you are looking for any last-minute gift ideas for me, I have one. I’d like Frank Shirley, my boss, right here tonight. I want him brought from his happy holiday slumber over there on Melody Lane with all the other rich people and I want him brought right here…with a big ribbon on his head! And I want to look him straight in the eye, and I want to tell him what a cheap, lying, no-good, rotten, four-flushing, low-life, snake-licking, dirt-eating, inbred, overstuffed, ignorant, blood-sucking, dog-kissing, brainless, dickless, hopeless, heartless, fat-ass, bug-eyed, stiff-legged, spotty-lipped, worm-headed sack of monkey shit he is! Hallelujah! Holy shit! Where’s the Tylenol?

And who hasn’t thought this about his/her boss?  Could it be Vitor Meira talking about A.J. Foyt?  How about Randy Bernard talking about Tony George (and we all know this time-bomb is going to explode sometime)?  Nope, this is Will Power talking about Brian Barnhart.  These had to be Will’s thoughts as he walked along the pits in New Hampshire.  I mean, it was great to watch, but didn’t you really want to know what Will was thinking?  Here it is.  I bet it’s almost word-for-word.  Go ahead, read it out loud.  Feels good, huh?

Mr. Frank Shirley: [picks up the phone receiver] Get me somebody. Anybody. And get me somebody while I’m waiting.

Apparently, Race Control has been bad this year.  Brian Barnhart seemed to want somebody – anybody – to talk to him during the race at New Hampshire.  If only someone told him it was raining at Loudon, he would have done something other than blame the REST OF THE WORLD.  Mr. Shirley, Clark’s boss, was out of touch with the needs of his employees.  Can you say communication issues, Race Control?  But in lieu of a kidnapping, IndyCar chose to “reassign” Barnhart.  Do you think they signed him up for the jelly-of-the-month-club, too?  “It’s the gift that keeps on giving,” you know.

Art: The little lights aren’t twinkling.
Clark: I know, Art. And thanks for noticing.

And a tip of the antlers to Zach at IndyCar Advocate for this idea.  Art, Clark’s father-in-law, is never satisfied with Clark’s choices; he’s always finding fault.  Art is the media, constantly telling IndyCar Clark that he is doing NOTHING right.  Art is snarky, just like some I know in the social media (I’m looking at you, Twitter).  Clark just wants to put together his complex lighting and make everyone happy.  IndyCar just wants to get its schedule straightened out and a new car on the road without every blogger, website, and media churl noting EVERY LITTLE THING that’s wrong.

Clark: Can I refill your eggnog for you? Get you something to eat? Drive you out to the middle of nowhere and leave you for dead?
Eddie: Naw, I’m doing just fine, Clark.

In this case, Clark is IndyCar and Eddie represents the world of blog.  In your heart, you know IndyCar sees the bloggers as freeloading relatives they can’t get rid of.  In fact, this quote sounds like what someone really means in the media center when they ask if you have everything you need.  Just like Clark with Eddie, they really can’t do much about us.  They just hope nobody notices as we drain our chemical toilets into the sewer.  They just pray that we never do anything really embarrassing.  And while I’m on the subject, does it bother anyone else that the IndyCar employed bloggers are used as corporate shills only?  Free the bloggers!  Bring back the Silent Pagoda!

Eddie: Every time Catherine revved up the microwave, I’d piss my pants and forget who I was for about half an hour or so.

Cousin Eddie once again, this time commenting on the effects of the plate in his head combined with microwave technology.  For Christmas this year, I wish this moment for every Indy fan around the world.  Here’s hoping the green flag at Indy causes you to piss your pants and forget who you are for just a little bit.  After all that has happened, we need that moment, don’t we?  What could be a better present under the tree this year than 33 DW12’s lined up and racing into Turn One on race day?  Merry Christmas, everyone.*

* Do you have another connection I missed?  Add it to the comment section below.  I triple-dog dare you (the triple-dog dare is for Tony at Pop Off Valve, who likes to mix his movies references every now and then).

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5 thoughts on “An IndyCar/Christmas Vacation Holiday Extravaganza



    Clark: Burn some dust here. Eat my rubber.
    Rusty Griswold: Dad, I think you mean burn rubber and eat my dust.
    Clark: Whatever, Russ. Whatever.

    …this is me trying to explain to people what I MEANT to say on Twitter.

    Uncle Lewis: Hey Grizz, Bethany and I figured out the perfect gift for you.
    Clark: Aw, you didn’t have to get me anything.
    Uncle Lewis: Dammit, Bethany, he guessed it.

    …this is INDYCAR’s dialogue with us when they have THAT BIG PRESS RELEASE.

    Ellen: Clark, Audrey’s frozen from the waist down.
    Clark: That’s all part of the experience, honey.

    …hey! We’re watching a race at Sonoma!

    Eddie: If you scratch his belly, Clark, he will love you till the day you die.
    Clark: I really shouldn’t, Eddie. My hands are all chapped.

    …”Come see Gene Simmons perform at the IMS Pavilion!”

    Audrey: Do you sleep with your brother? Do you know how sick and twisted that is?
    Ellen: Well, I’m sleeping with your father. Don’t be so dramatic.

    …internal dialogue at INDYCAR about having to be nice to bloggers.

    Audrey: I hope nobody I know drives by and sees me standing in the yard staring at the house in my pajamas.
    Art: If they know your dad, they won’t think anything of it.


    Clark: Hey, Kids, I heard on the news that an airline pilot spotted Santa’s sleigh on its way in from New York City.
    Eddie: [after a pause] You serious, Clark?

    …IndyCar fans reacting to promises that THIS oval race will have better ratings.

    Ellen: Clark, I think it’d be best if everyone went home… before things get worse.
    Clark: WORSE? How could things get any worse? Take a look around here, Ellen. We’re at the threshold of hell.

    …IndyCar fans… well, just IndyCar fans.

  2. I am prostrate at the feet of the master, humbled. What is my day of agony writing is your “off the cuff” retort. Brilliant. Damn.

  3. bill kenley on said:

    Makes me wish I knew more about racing so I’d get all the jokes. Even still… Quite funny. Quite funny, indeed.

  4. “Free the bloggers! Bring back the Silent Pagoda!”

    THIS. This I can get behind. 2011 can be redeemed if Roy can be brought out of the mothballs (i.e. the 55 gallon barrel of liquid naphthalene that he’s been stored in lo these many months) and restored to his rightful place. Which is writing something insane on some website somewhere that doesn’t involve the Colts, which are a lost cause until 2015 at the earliest, anyway. Come on, Roy, throw us all a bone.

    Oh, but this was a good post in Roy’s stead, Mark. I guess.

    [collapses into tears]

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