On the drive back to camp I had a thought. How much fan mail does Mr. T. get these days? He's pretty under the radar now, but brought tears of joy to Mohicans everywhere when he mopped the floor with Stallone in Rocky III. I thought I'd write him tonight. Here's a copy in case I offend him and he hitch-hikes to P.G. and bodyslams me.

Dear Sir Lawrence Turead aka Mr. T.,

In case you hadn't heard, up working off of Mile 90 of the Alaska Highway probing trees looking for pine beetle. The guys I work with are crazier than Murdock. The best way to describe them is if you donated a dozen ATVs and snowmobiles to the people living on the streets around Main and Hastings St. in Vancouver. They're a bunch of wasted ex-cons, ripping around on machines with no regard for personal safety, only stopping to light their cigarettes.

The beetles up here are pretty much on a killing spree. They're spreading fast because of the favorable temperatures due to global warming. I know you're an environmentalist- you said you'd rather walk than fly with that crazy sucka Murdock. If you do want to save Northern BC, you could do a bit more hand to hand combat rather than using your tank, or park the A Team van and instead have the crew take the bus on your next mission. I like to think of us as an elite force designed to eradicate entomological boreal domination. We're a bunch of guys straight out of prison for crimes "We swear we didn't commit." Pretty much, we're the A Team of Northern North America.

Glad to hear you made it through your battle of cancer. Sorry you had to sell your gold chains to pay for your medical bills, but you said it yourself: "You don't need chains when you got a heart of gold." I get all my facts from the National Inquirer that covered your story so well. I tried to do some fundraising, but used the money to buy some gold tire chains for our Ford Super Duty.

I don't get along with a lot of these whiteys in camp. Half are whinos, the other half are complainos. I think a couple of them are starting to befriend me because I'll break trail through the snow and don't eat any of the pork chops. I ain't buying it. I believe it was in the movie Be Somebody or Be Somebody's Fool that you said, "Be somebody, or you'll be somebody's fool. Or was it in the movie, Baby-Punching Supersuckas for Megabot 9 ? I always get those two mixed up.

I know it sounds like I'm messing around but I do care. When I was nineteen I bet a guy ten bucks that he didn't know what your favorite type of music was. How could he have known the answer was Gospel? I was positive he's say Pre-2Unlimited Trantastic Trip-Hop. I paid up, so don't ever say I never stuck my neck out to make a difference.

Yours Fooly,

Crease Mansfoo of the Castlegar gang The Supasuckas Relay Erasers, circa 1998.

Minus twenty five up in the Great White North….

I've finished up my last shift and, this time, I won't be going back. I'm getting a little too attached to rednecks and have to space myself before I become what I fear. On one of the last days one of them came to be about to cry. "Freezer made fun of me because I thought eight and four equals thirteen. I have mentally problems." Looking at me like a teary eyed puppy dog, with the IQ to match, I'm starting to realize how it can sometimes be harder to part with something you hate than something you love. Why? I haven't a damn clue. When I find out I let you know. But by that time I'll own four quads and be paying child support from my fifth marriage. Yep, I gotta go because I'm starting to fit in.

Mentally Yours,

Crease