ANNOUNCEMENT.

VICTORIA - I was notified by an irate correspondant - is apparently home to much more fine graffiti than these outdated photos can account for.  Apologies to the Lurker In You.  Please upload some goodies via our Image Uploader, if you would be so kind.  - SEZ - 2011 APRIL

Sorry to say, folks, Victoria is Blank.  The Grey Goon Squad is playing God.  The Pillars, once alive with Voices of Angels, are now as silent as the Sheep, as silent as the Lambs, that bleetingly and politely file down the sleepy streets of this Tea-totaling Township.

There's a total of 14 bombs left on the walls here, most Graffiti is dead and gone.  Grafitti is merely a memory in the ironed white collars of a largely Anglo-Saxon and colorless community.

All the Graffiti left in this city could be arranged on one side of a dime.  Unfortunately, a large number of pieces were under an overpass, which was also Home-to-the-Homeless, so forgive my transgression into your fair abode, dear denizens of the night.

Alas - Poor Yorick! We spoke too soon.  A few dribbles of gleeful color on these tired concrete limbs.  We'll keep on filling you in as we march through the freeway underbelly.  We try to feed our tired horses.  We try to plant daffodils around our Manicured Lawns.  We try to place the plaster Angels and Pink Flamingos in Places of Inspiration.  We throw our Bird Feeders to the wind.  But most of all, we try to keep our city clean and livable, because it is the Queen's city.  And the queen will return one day to claim her rightful kingdom.

It's so Protestant and so anglo, that I'm surprised there's any color at all.

Well, we wandered through ditches, culverts and endless Swamp-Land.  We traversed the Pathway of the Canada goose.  We watched happy children on bicycles singing "Oh Canada" as they toddled peacefully through the suburbs.

We drove our shiny SUV's into our Gated Communities and thanked God for another boom in the Tech market.  We thanked Him for our RRSP's.  We thanked him for our Cottage at the Lake.  We thanked him for Cheesecake and Tortillas.  We thanked him for colon cancer and Big Hospitals.

Then we went to bed and died.  "Oh the Life of A sheep, Oh the Life of a Sheep."  We are all comfortable in our homes, yes?  We are all comfortable in our own skins, yes?  We are all comfortable in our white-collar crimes yes?  We cheat on our income tax, and we outlaw begging on the street.  It's not fashionable to be poor.  It's downright embarrassing that a homeless man would dare to approach my SUV, my shiny fortess-on-wheels, with his desperate squeegee-stick.  It's a crime to be poor, so we'll lock them up, or shew them away, or cordon them off - away from the innocent eyes of our children as they paddle gracefully through the swamps, singing "Oh Canada", like children do.

We'll be telling you more, just don't go away.

Victoria's Bright and Shiny.

We want you to stay.

One more day.