Open Letter to Stan Lee

What fun it was to find the nearest store within a mile and for 12 cents find your next books... Spider-man, Dr Strange, Daredevil etc... I had my own gang leaping across the fences in those days.

Why after all these years of my enjoyment of your words and Steve’s Ditko’s artistry (Spider-Man and Dr Strange, Daredevil etc) did Steve leave you?

How is Steve?

I hope he is well-compensated despite your troubles with Sony.

You always use to give us these comic book readers the straight goods.

‘Nuff said.

HARPER'S CASKET

At last. Our P.M.'s office has been exposed. 

Harper's Duffygate works for me. 

Finally, our mortician has found his own casket.

Hello Vancouver. Is anybody home?

Our American friends visiting us are staggered by creepy attitudes and hours of service in this squeaky, pretentious town called Vancouver… named after a brave man.

Who gets their newspaper before two pm? Why is the beer store closed at six?

When you want service with a scowl, go to the most boring Chinatown in the world (right here) or visit your local post office.

And by the way, try the sidewalks these days. The youngin’s think you’re invisible. They walk through you with their stretch-doggie leashes. And you can always depend on skateboarders to roar up your ass. Or get an involuntary pedicure by aggressive hit-and-runners. They paid their way here and don't give a crap about Canadians (my family coming here from the mid 1700's.)

Oh, did I miss something? Read both newspapers written by the same hacks.

DEATH BED FANTASIES

Open letter to anyone to whom I am guilty of writing:

My words about life are meant to be a titch of advice about your philosophy and theology. That's what I contemplate. Not always Your Life.  

Everybody's O.K. to be a philosopher; O.K. to be a theologian; not O.K. to realize on one's deathbed that they got the theology wrong.

Each of us has a private relationship to the personality of the infinite. Sure beats withering with TV violence and politics (the eternal sea of Maya).

The last image I want playing in mind is that after all, I had no idea. 

I hope they clean the sheets.

Your body is your friend telling you methinks the same.

Dear Reader:

STAYING UNDISTRACTED:

Uh, that subject was meant to be a titch of advice about your philosophy and theology. That's what I was thinking about. Not Yours; everybody's. O.K. to be a philosopher; O.K. to be a theologian: not O.K. to realize on one's deathbed that they got the theology wrong.

Each of is has a private relationship to the personality of the infinite. Sure beats withering with TV violence and politics (the eternal sea of Maya).

The last image I want playing in mind is that after all, I had no idea. 

I hope they clean the sheets.

Your body is your friend telling you methinks the same.