Highfalutin furbelows not withstanding, the screeds of inane puerile narcissism being generated from the over-heated brain pan of one of our Canadian friends and filtered though the fictitious identity of a talking bow-legged flea-bitten poopflinging simian with pretensions of grandiosity are --however infantile--always good for a condescending grin from homo sapiens sapiens, the guys one notch up the development tree. Its hard tobelieve we share over 99 per cent of our genome with such almost-beens. But thanks for the grin, anyway. Go poof! and I'll catch you back in the Dream Time.


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