One imagines the caboose or mail or guard van as the last carriage on the train where the train guard says, all aboard and waves the driver on, huff n' puff n' stuff on to go, forward he cried from the rear and the front rank cried not died. Then off he goes inside to sort the mail before the next station stop. That is the process, the procession that contains the actions of and for and on behalf of all actors in this here earthly domain as theatre spectacular, patiently waiting for the return of the king, who will bring to ruin those who ruin the earth. One can hear the train long before one can see it in the calm cool air of the morning before the bird song Magpies, then perchance Kookaburras in the old gum tree opening up the morning chorus to free the air. Yes at a time when most are fast asleep and they have no idea what they are missing out on. One can hear the all aboard, the hissing of the great engine that drives the train along. The screams of excitement of the little children who have waiting for so long for a place where they can find a home, a place where they feel secure and safe, free from threats from hurt and harm by the robber Barron's called the landlords and their partners in crime the po-lice and bailiffs of the Babylonian High Judicial Proceedings Courts. Which one of you is game to take them head on as a crash test dummy test case to test their limits of endurance with that evil system that is so slow at putting into action: true justice?