Bob Marley would probably say, "What de fuck!?" if he landed in this back alley.  Don't we all?  It's a Pisseroo of color, cleanliness and heat, this wanton Summer's Day.  We're all "dialing for dollars", waiting for daddy to come home, waiting for the Bottle, the Bread, the Liquid Sunlight that falls through the shabby cracks of our alibis. Anyway, we proceed, grudgingly, with Toronto Queen Three. Grab a bus up Spadina and stare for hours at people who don't talk to each other.

We now bring you back to the wily monster that we headlined in Toronto #1.  It's an Elf on Fast Drugs that took Bagpipe lessons by mistake.

And, well... it could happen to you!  We go further and discover that the piece is labeled"IslandCityMonsters.com".  So we go there and click a couple of clicks and discover what appears to be a hip-hop site giving way to a Rap music feature.  More angry homophobic negroes enticing more angry white disaffected youth to adopt-an-angry-nigger-for-a-daddy-role-model.  Not impressive.  Not helpful.  Not uplifting.

Sorry, I don't buy angry shit; there's too much of it in the world already.  What kind of a creepy generation worships music that worships hate, intolerance and arrogance? Music, Art and Lifestyle must evolve to a state-of-mind that furthers understanding & harmony on this Human Planet.  Even tho' this commentator wears a sarcastic façade, it's all a game for the sake of "art". Real art is humanity, not anger.

But hey, since the Artist is not the same as the singer, let's put dues where dues belong and celebrate the pencil on brick that yields monsters and maidens to the left of us.  As always, we can't tell REALLY what this all means, but let's say that Angry Disaffected Youth (ADY's) are usually in the Male Skin, and Benign Wise Onlookers are usually in the Female Skin. 

Do we see a pattern emerging here?  We've scoffed on and on about this, and no, we will not let it rest, there will be no Naked Emperors in this Parade.

Call it for what it is, but it's a voice that invades and insinuates itself in the deepest reaches of society's fabrics, the voice of the Angry, Armored male.  The mindless arrogance of Testosterone growling like a rabid dog, marking its territory, ruling its kingdom.

I'm ready for a change.  Are you?

Now, on the Other Side of Kool, KOPS inherits a cozy space under an abandoned stairway to Heaven.  He sells his warez, simple but cool, established but elegant.  It reeks of Police that went bad at a backyard barbeque.  Or a boy who always wanted to be a Fireman, but ended up giving out parking tickets.

Life is never quite what we expect, Martha.  I've come to know that.

Style In Progress dot C-A is the ad spot behind the tag here. It's a "stylish" site that has all the right links to the right places, bombingscience dot com, etc. A fairly decent site with some good galleries.  Check it out HERE.

Doorways always lead you somewhere. 

Some lead you nowhere.  Only you know what makes your own unique doorways different from your own unique traps.  Sometimes it's as simple as a pencil-streak  on an eyebrow, a mohawk that glitters, a Bagpipe that mourns like a dead cat.

I can't get mileage out of this one Martha, other than, "what a mess".  The only redeeming feature is the disturbed face on the lower right.

It's friendly, bizarre, insane and impotent at the same time.  We all draw our fathers the way we draw our fathers, the way we draw our fathers.  Who they were, or weren't, to us, is the paint on the wall.

This website is not your typical graffiti website.  You must appreciate that by now.  If you have read this far, I am intrigued as to "why".

Actually, albeit my sarcasm, all these pictures say something to me.  It's just a different language, that's all.  Can't say it's "pretty" all the time.  Can't say it's "meaningful" all the time.  But they are little thumb-prints, unique and damning on their own.

They all convey a very tiny but significant piece of the inner heart and soul of the writer to the reader.  Whether you say a lot or a little, with flair or with flimsiness, with proud color or black scrawls, this is who you are, writer, and this is what you're giving to the world, and ultimately, to yourself. 

It is honest, just because of that.  Art is language spelled backwards, because that is the only way it can sneak in the back door of perception.

More Tomorrow, when you are Sober and I am listening to "Art Bell" on Coast-To-Coast AM.  How much medication can a lonely man use?