Tell me what’s the word?

Word up.

Here’s some random graffiti that I’ve seen around town over the last few weeks. These entertain me to no end, and that’s why I am sharing them with you, oh dearest readers. This is the sort of nonsense that makes the walk to and from work so very worthwhile. Otherwise I would open a vein and hope to be done with it all before I made it in…

Shit, Blinky! Run! Run!

Every so often the voice of reason is in print. Stuck to the side of a utility box on the side of the street. Every so often…

Yeah. Words fail me.

Randomly, here are some other sights that have inspired in me a sense of mirth.

Fuck all, these are some ostentatious urinals. I don’t need to feel this regal when voiding my bladder, I assure you.

Now, see, this is a case of improper expectations. By reading the first sign, one would assume, with due cause, that there is some other manner of trespass which is acceptable. The criminal kind of trespass isn’t kosher, but, you know, the other kind is A-OK. Then they follow it up with the second sign which just shoots that idea all to shit. I’m not really sure what to think about these signs. I haven’t seen mixed signals like this since the last time I tried to pick up a woman in a bar. “Sure I don’t find you repulsive; but I would rather go home alone nonetheless.”

There was a protest tonight along my route home which was, by sheer virtue of sublime irony, escorted by the local police department. I noticed this license plate frame on one of the police motorcycles and giggled incessantly. I had to stop and take a picture, even though it meant missing the light…

Alright, darlings. That is all for tonight. I’m off to watch some DVDs.

Author: john ingram

This iteration of John Ingram was created in response to increased demand in global John Ingramness. Previous incarnations were less suited to fulfill this need.

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