This is gonna be Slim, vigorous and Nasty.  None will be spared. Leave now, oh Weak-Of-Heart.

Okay, here's another "Executive Signature" by the Red Lions Rugby Club. Won any Australian Games lately? Swallowed any O'Henry Bars floating in Apple Juice?  We may seem delirious, but it's only because we've been WATCHING TWENTY TELEVISIONS at the local sports bar, and not hearing a word they're saying on any of them.

That's mainly because they're not SAYING ANYTHING ON ANY OF THEM.  Does any body see that through your bleary bloodshot eyes?

We're into "cute stuff" today.  Okay?  This little Dipstick on the left is Somebody's attempt to trivialize one of the main tri-grams on the I-Ching.  Too much Chinese Beer and not enough Afghan Hash results in this reading for you, Thunder Boy:

Hexagram 16: Yu / Enthusiasm: To know the seeds, that is divine indeed. In his association with those above him, the superior man does not flatter. In his association with those beneath him, he is not arrogant. For he knows the seeds. The seeds are the first imperceptible beginning of movement, the first trace of good fortune (or misfortune) that shows itself. The superior man perceives the seeds and immediately takes action. He does not wait even a whole day. In the Book of Changes it is said: "Firm as a rock. Not a whole day. Perseverance brings good fortune."

Now, Mr Bass has been here since 1995.  We surmise from his "I-Mean-Business" style of handwriting, that Mr Bass is either a High-School Gym Teacher or a Shop Steward in the Postal Workers Union. One and the same, in this Feng Shui world.  Mr Bass, we are more than pleased to make your acquaintance, and we hope you enjoy our offerings while still remaining true to the gospels of Jesus Christ and the incessant natterings of your neurotic housewife.

These folks obviously painted in the rain. Must be from BC. What else to do on a Lazy Saturday?  Hang out at the Mall? Wear Girl's clothes and join the Boy Scouts?  Naw.  Buy Latex with your allowance and Paint the Trains. It's the Canadian Way.

Okay, now what? "Stupid Graffiti"?  This train-journal is full of it.  We're just gettin' started.  Mr Bass, you put me in The Mood, baby.

"Threats Of Decapitation". Wow. At least his Hypenation is in the right place.  This is like the Flying Skull of a Baby Hell's Angel, smiling as it chops up another O'Henry Bar in Apple Juice.

Gag me.

"Reception Reset" ...?  I think you better throw away the whole Television, brother, and invest in a little Ouija Board for for retirement days.  Better throw in an "I Ching" for your wife, Wilma.

And while you're at it, remember the 12-step meeting is cancelled for tonight, which is okay, it's "porno-surf" night on the internet again, because Wilma ... well Fred... let's say she just doesn't deliver the cookies anymore.

Okay, now we're into the Big Bananas.  Somebody's celebrating their 50th, and it ain't me Mama. 

50 years of Dirty Laundry.  50 years of Defying Authority and Driving on a Wrong-Way street.  50 years of adding your name tag to every public bathroom and private warehouse in the country.

It's a Big One, that half-century.  Wear it well, there won't be another to follow.

O Ye of Little Faith! Chrome, Monoxide, and Rust combine to take us on a Psychic Picnic to "found art land", the biggest Museum on Wheels, short of Dad's Studebaker.

Get this: sometimes small words say big things, and O Ye's polite choice of "Location" and "Sybolic Abbreviation" frankly leave me breathless.

It's a small cookie on a Long Night.

Here we go:

"Meso, Caso, What! Krew!" (..."what crew?") do a snappy little coca cola logo here, ignoring their "right to remain silent".  Sometimes Black and White can be put to decent work, and these Lads make a serious go of it. 

Although it's somewhat typical, it lacks the boring puppy dog tails so slavishly adorning many "working-class" tags of daily commerce.  Therefore, slightly aristocratic in its sentiments, it speaks mainly to the dead and dying in us: the pre-natal limbic system of retarded reptilian ancestry.

Stuff that up your Ph.D pipes and smoke it whole baby.

HA!

HA!

HA!

Small is sometimes good.
Short is sometimes sweet.
Coke is never Pepsi.
You blow me off my feet.

HA!

This is a mess.

And it's from Winnipeg.

Listen: if you can't say it intelligently, why say it at all?  Just because you've got a gay mayor and a frozen city, doesn't mean you can mess up our Nationally-owned Boxcars and get away with it.

Gambling.  No good for you, no good for me.  No good for anyone except the government, the banks, and the few rich tycoons who are "board directors" on the Lotto 649 finance committee.  They're the ones with the shaved heads, the tinted windows and the swimming pools.  Kill them.   It's your duty.

We're covering a lot of ground here folks.  This should do you for a day or two. I like this curious character on the right.  I first thought it was a face. When I looked closer it seemed to be a covered wagon with horns.  Then, some kind of a hood ornament for a martian hearse.  The more I think about it, the more I'm mystified, and the less I want to go to work tomorrow.

If any of you know what this thing on the right is, please tell me, and I'll pass it on to our television audience. (A two-faced demon drag queen?)

Moving right along.  (jeez, we're winnin' tonight!  so much ground to cover, and so much speed!  makes you wanna buy one of those silver little hondas and go to Hovercraft Driving School, yes?)

Our "man of the cross" on the left reminds us that Jesus is constantly watching us, when He's not Watching TV.  Kind of a "train-yard" type of guy. Good with the chalk, but forgot to count the box-cars.  That's why they're all de-railing now, "mister 2/99" ...!  Pay attention or we'll report you to your "Biker Union Bosses"...!!