Like honesty and whining about the weather, slumps are for sissies and panty waists. When General Eisenhower woke up on D-Day, do you think he said, "You know what fellows, I'm a little down today and it's cloudy. Let's shut it down for a week or two till I feel more like kicking some Nazi ass." No way, Jose! He sacked it up and hit the beaches. Speaking of which, how are things along the Coronado bike path, DG? Co-eds from San Diego State on roller blades not catching your eye these days? Do I have to put two and two together, Mister, and spell it out for you? You're looking a little limp in the wrist area, and Fella, that makes my want to puke last night's porterhouse and potatoes. Because when the girlies stop tickling your fancy, that what I really call a slump. Yeah, that's what I said, a slump. The kind that makes you want to blow your brains out with a .38 service revolver. Because when Mr. Mike isn't at attention, neither are you, Bucko. And being at attention is what it's all about. So the next time there's a little heat wave and you can't sleep and you have boo-boo from one of your sissy-biffs, remember this: "Slumps" and "sissy" are about three words apart in the dictionary.