We're Back Under The Bridge.
The place where Trolls ponder and lunatics wander.

We'll try another tramp into the tragic and the magic.

It's a den of change and iniquity, but the paint colors last for years.  As far as taggin' the North Shore, leave it to Mr Ranger Sir and Santa Cloth; we'll find the best deals for your hungry palette.

Ready to dive?

Derek, Mek, Cheeto and ToneF greet us as we muddy our hiking boots and slide in the slime of Mosquito Creek once again.  It's a joyride, and we're big boys now, so we know what "home" feels like when we get there.

It's a Dirty Job, it's Low Light and Less Pay.  It's a Navy Diver going down once again for naked bodies he'd rather not rescue.  It's a lonely wall in in a dugout made by hungry construction workers.  Workers who cared not about concrete or patio structures, but waited only for the bait at the end of the trail.

We don our hard hats and widen our eerie smiles as we cross dust and gullies in order to shine light on the Leftovers of Passover.  Undercover and Overpass, hide our grief and guilt about building the concrete too narrow, the buildings too thin.  The rooftops too weak, the pidgeons of tin.

OK shutup now and click your goddam camera.

DECA likes his letters big and simple.  Brilliant in their own Krylon "top-of-the-tube" metallic silver.  Obviously a future highway patrolman on a limited salary, we can only salute his use of primary metallic "gun" colors to shoot his way into glory.  Says our color wheel oracle on "Silver" ...

The color silver can be earthy, natural or sleek and elegant. It can be used much as gray is although when using shiny metallic inks, small amounts for accents is best.

Since so much of today's broadcast is sponsored by "DECA" we flaunt his fluorescent tag once again.  You owe me big-time, baby.

We move on to Larger Rabbits and smaller Bingo Clubs as we present once again, "Liquid Blue Laundry Soap With Reversible Letters".

It's a Taiwan Bad Dream in Silk Pajamas, but it still gets us in the door of the Liquor Store.

What's a "Liquor Store" you ask, being our friendly guest from America-Down-South.  Well, lissen up, Yankee Potatoe Head: in Canada, Marijuana is Legal, but Alcohol is Prohibited.

In fact, you're given a free reefer if you immigrate here, but if you get caught selling booze without a Bland Government Regulatory Licence, you serve Big Time.

So, we have Unionized Government Liquor Depots where you can receive your monthly Vodka ration only if you prove you sill have a driver's licence.  It's a tough call, because most people driving these days don't even speak English.  It's no surprise then, when they end up making Licence plates at dinner time instead of Sushi.

This sweet little Pregnant Pussycat seems to be the work of "NWK".  We can only assume this is short for "Netwok".  This is where you work if you don't speak English when you fail your driver's licence exam.

It's sort of like a Retirement Community Center where people can experiment with Fried Mung Beans and Rice in a variety of interesting and thought-provoking ways.

Seriously now, NWK is harmonizing in PINK here, which, according to FACTMONSTER.COM: "The most romantic color, pink, is more tranquilizing. Sports teams sometimes paint the locker rooms used by opposing teams bright pink so their opponents will lose energy."

This next treat, I call "The Black Negro Sisters In Pointed Stilettos".  Isn't that the coolest tribute to Duke Ellington, man?  Like: it dances all by itself - even before you wind it up.  Jive, jazz & Jimbo!  Naked Bimbo!

Ok, Stop all the Dancin'!

Finally a face, a face, a tribute to the sub-human race.  It's these that crowd the please and divert the doukabors to higher harbors.

This Small Fellow (signed by WAYY, by the wayy) is lined with trouble, a gremlin who nursed his parents to poverty.  It's all Mythological, you say, but it's more than a Bad Dream, it's the Albino Cat in your own back alley, it's your own Blessed Child, naked in front of the Video Camera of Life, dancing to please the Devil and to liquefy your ego.

Aside from that, it's a mess.

It's Somebody's Sunday Dinner going cold while they watch "The Simpsons".  A monkey of Steele, a Platinum porcupine, a small icon of humor on a Big Wall of Shame.

DEREK saves us from ourselves and from Jesus as well. A welcome sight at Christmas Time or any other time of the harvest, Derek spells it out nice and clean and crisp.  Sort of like a Nanaimo Bar between the teeth, eh Bunny?

And get this Police Boys, the Color Pink! Now listen to what the THIAOOBA PHILOSOPHY says about the color pink:

Okay, we've Dipped and Delved Enough into this new age shit.  Now for some down-home funky Baseball Game Beer'n'chips type Paintin' from the Bomb Crews we've gotten to know and love:

Believe me, there's a lot to choose from when you go to a SEZ-1-APPROVED GRAFFITI TRAINING CAMP.  One of our most popular courses is Egyptian Shorthand.  It's great for deciphering bomb threats, watching the sub-titles in Al Quaida Film shorts, or simply writing long poems at Starbucks, hoping that the amorous potential at the next table will think you're King Tut's sequined sibling.

This one wins second prize because it's not "pointy and spikey" but smooth and curved like a Portuguese Woman's Bosom.  Stylistic as well.  Not merely a cheap Imitator of many of the Dog-Ass creeds "out there" on the street, but an Establishor Of Trends, a Pace-Setter, a Door Knobber.

I like it when Sigs come up that are new and different.  It's like << Am I simply, "one of the pack" >>, another Cigarillo in a Cuban box?  or Do I make my own statements and set my own styles, truly what "Anarchy" and "breaking out of the box" is all about.

And now, in the traditional Taggers "I'll Be Home For Xmas" spirit, good King Wenceslas makes his comeback in the spirit of "Cam" one of our BallPark Taggers.  Cam ain't into this faggoty "mural" shit, with "expressive organic semitones".  It's like the Bloodhound guy that sez, "taggin' ain't taggin unless you're 10 stories up balancing on a beer bottle in the deep cities of the Bronx, not all this faggoty Blue Pyramid Shit".  Hey, don't knock it kids, that's the welcome message I got at "graffiti.org".

See that's the funny thing about the Graf Culture, right?  It all started out as pure anarchy, a statement against the rules and regs.  Then the "pimpin'" culture got a hold of it, and now get this: if you wear your baseball cap backwards, talk in the right fork tongue, do your wiry puppy dog tails, then you got it man, you da man bruthah.  But if you do anything DIFFERENT, you're branded, because YOU BROKE THE RULES.  You broke the rules of our tight-ass little "conformist" hiphop society that all dances the same way.

The only dance that's worth doin' is the dance that's truly your own. Otherwise you're just a peasant in a ball cap.  Dancin' to the Bigger Guns, you ain't got the balls to say no.

That buck stops here.