Tag Signs

Reading Isn’t Believing

Michael 2 Comments

And they say you can’t believe everything you read. (I say you even can’t believe everything you think but that’s a topic for a different post.) No, this is really about what you read, or don’t, or think you’ve read. Or maybe even for some people what you think you wanted to read. Rarely it might be what you read that you wanted to think.

Not only are 4 out every 5 calls I get enticements to either throw my money away on a non-existent extended warranty, or to have them syphon money out of my accounts if I do so much as to actually think to answer it with a phone that had once been near an ATM machine while I was making a withdrawal (I don’t really know about that but it seems like the scammers have to do less and less to get our money, and what could they do to me for presuming otherwise, sue me for libel?) (now where was I?) (oh yes, I remember), not only are there oodles more nuisance phone calls, nuisance emails – either spam or outright phishing schemes – have taken a dramatic upward arc on the occurrence scale. However…every now and then you come across a spammer who didn’t get the new spam scam users guide. These are the ones that have multiple fonts, bold, lots or asterisks and exclamation points, and refer to accounts at banks and retailers you’ve never used or refer to you as your email address.

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Yesterday I found a new one. Just in case you thought all the bold type, red bullet points, and mysterious name weren’t incentive enough to open the email, they included in the subject line, “This message is From a trusted sender.” I know that convinced me to open that missive right then and do whatever it said.  Hey, that Nigerian prince might still have some of his millions left to give away.

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Clearly that was something not to believe even if I did read it in black and white.

Some signs nobody ever reads. Not far from me there is a stretch of road where for about 30 yards the posted speed limit is 5mph. I’m not sure my car can go that slow. It seems to me nothing between stop and 15mph even exists. Another instance of not believing what I read, although with not quite the same conviction. Oh I’ll slow down as slow as I can get, but 5? Ehhhhhh, probably not.

There is a sign I take with great seriousness and wish everybody who read it would believe it. No, it’s not the “Masks Required” sign but it would be nice if more people believed that too. No, this is this sign.

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The rate of confiscated guns per million passengers doubled in 2020, a year when the number of people flying decreased by 60%. So far, with 2 whole months in for 2021, the rate is close to 4 times that of 2020. That puts the TSA on pace to confiscate close to 15,000 guns at security checkpoints. If that doesn’t worry you enough, over 12,000 of those guns will be loaded. Eighty-three percent of the handguns pulled out of pockets, purses, and carry-on bags are loaded.

The most common reason people give for attempting to enter an airport secure area with a concealed and loaded weapon is that they forgot they had it. Yeah right. Put that in writing and I won’t believe it then either. According to the Pew Research Center, 67% of gunowners say they purchased their guns for protection. If all those people getting on the planes are representative of gunowners, when the time comes to protect life or property I suppose they will have to convince the assailant to “hang on there a second, I want to shoot you which is my right, I just have to remember where I put that darn gun.”

Gun-Sign-Crop-1-768x377It would be nice if people who decide they don’t want to believe the part of the TSA sign that says firearms aren’t allowed through airport check points at least would believe the rest of the sign, the part in smaller print that says they can be fined up to $13,000 dollars for doing so. Then again, maybe that’s not a lot of money to them. In that case … I know this Nigerian prince who needs a little help.

You can believe me on this. I am a trusted sender.

Oh Lord, Please Send Me a Sign!

Michael 3 Comments
It’s that time of year again. Leaves fall and campaign signs blossom. Can you say “blossom” in reference to weeds?
 
Any election brings out the signs like that’s going to push the undecided voter over somebody’s edge, but in a presidential election year the ever growing number of signs is beyond full bloom! Or full weed as the case may be. 
 
One would think one sign per candidate per yard should be sufficient. Several municipalities around here thought the same thing as ordinances had been considered limiting the number of signs that could be placed in a yard. Yep, that failed miserably. The local officials were willing, even passed some of those local laws. Candidates, committees, political parties, and “activist” groups petitioned courts, filed suits, and challenged rulings until the regulations were all either overturned, or withdrawn. All so we can drive past neighborhoods where trim colors on houses and flower beds are regulated but where 25, 30, even 40(!) identical signs can legally, if not esthetically, block our view of those houses and border plantings. 
 
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So it was nice to see something different while I was out on the road last week. A hug. A sign with a hug. Now there’s something that deserves a yes vote!
 
 

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Michael Leave a comment

You know, I’m not so sure this is exactly what Punxsutawney Phil had in mind when he predicted an early spring on Tuesday. Yesterday I was driving about and I passed a restaurant whose marquee proclaimed “Patio Open!” Indeed it was a warmish day but it is still February and I was driving north of the Mason Dixon Line. I had a look at the patio as I motored past it. Those chairs were metal! I don’t care if it is a warmish February, if you are sitting out there you will have a less than warmish behind.

It made me wonder, was that restaurant really ready to relegate patrons to the refrigerator? Or perhaps had the owner not updated the signage since last April? It’s been known to happen that not everybody stays as up to date as one might. I offer these observations.

The local mega-market adjusted its hours last year. I recall when the signs went up. One sign in particular. “The Beer Department will close at 9pm effective January 20, 2015.” After more than a year it’s time to retire that sign.

The corner fruit market has two signs in the window proclaiming its operating hours. One is headed “Summer Hours” and the other “Winter Hours.” There is no notice of when each becomes effective, or for the half-empty crowd, is no longer valid.

Hanging on the door to my doctor’s office is a sign reading, “Effective July 1, all billing will be handled by XYZ specialists.” Does that mean they are giving patients a very long notice or that they have forgotten to take it down?

And let us not forget the cheery voice every time you try to call bank, insurance company, hospital, auto mechanic, or piano teacher, who has greeted callers with, “Please listen carefully as our menu items have changed,” since 1996.

Expiration dates shouldn’t be just for milk.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

 

Writing on the Walls

Michael 1 Comment

I love Christmas time. It’s the craft shows. I admit it, I’m a sucker for craft shows and craft shows multiply at Christmas time like nobody’s business while making somebody some pretty good business. Not being terribly creative I appreciate those who can make things out of the whole cloth, especially the ones who use wood. I ooh and ahh over the wreaths and the glassware, the etchings and the paintwork.  But I will always stop and read the walls on the booths of those who write wisdom on 6×24 inch planks. For on them one might almost always find the perfect philosophy to live life by.

This certainly isn’t new ground. Past posts discussed self-expression by signage (Walls O’ Wisdom, March 19, 2012) with the help of departments of motor vehicles (UNDTSAY, April 2, 2012), squeezed onto license plate frames (Mobile Philosophy, June 30, 2014) and apparelly apparent (T(-Shirt) is for Thinking, July 30, 2015). The problem is that most of what gets reduced to writing has been reduced so many times over so many years that there is little left. How many times in how many different fonts in how many different finishes can you read “A Penny Saved is a Waste of Time?”

What we need are custom mass-produced pearls of wisdom, or even a good glass knock-off. I have found some of the best worded signs at shows – “Things Haven’t Been the Same Since that House Fell on My Sister,” “Don’t Tell Me What Kind of Day to Have,” and my all-time favorite “If at First you Don‘t Succeed, Redefine Success.” Still, I think we are missing some needed enlightened encouragement or encouraging enlightenment.

Things I thought I’d appreciate on my walls might be:
<<< 120 Minutes Equals One Happy Hour >>>
<<<Is it still a gift card if you buy it for yourself?>>>
<<< You can be whatever you want to be so don’t be stupid. >>>
<<< Nothing Is So Bad That You Can’t Make It Worse >>>

Just in case you didn’t know what to get me for Christmas.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

When Did…

Michael Leave a comment

I seemed to have missed it again. In my youth, when we would cook dinner on the grill outside and eat at the old wood table off paper plates with the wind blowing napkins and cups, it was called a cook-out. Usually it was on a Sunday in the summer and something was put over charcoal but most of the food came from the kitchen like any other Sunday and it was still a cook-out.  I haven’t heard that phrase for years. Those under 30 years old or so may not even recognize it. We don’t have cook-outs today. Today we grill. One day we are having a cook-out, the next we are grilling. I completely missed that transition.

Well, as I started out, I seemed to have missed it again. When did emoticons become emoji? (I’m still not sure if that is a singular as in one emoji, the plural of more than a singular emojum, or both like fish or deer.) To be perfectly honest, I’m not certain that I can even point to when emoticons became emoticons and not just “those little smiley thingies.” And who came up with them? And how? Let’s face it, it’s not natural to be typing along and all of a sudden decide to turn your “page” 90 degrees and plop in a couple of symbols you can only tell what they are if your head is on sideways. Or if you’re that guy on Law and Order who is always checking out the evidence that nobody else has noticed with his head at that weird angle.

I thought it was perfectly clever when somebody decided that one could approximate a smiley face with a colon and a right parenthesis (parentheses?) (One of them is right, err correct, in that it’s only one of them but I don’t know which. If you do, feel free to fix it if it so needs fixed.) From there it was a quick step to frownie faces, kissing faces, grinning faces, hearts, flowers, and any number of things to personalize an otherwise impersonal e-mail or (shudder) instant message. There are even translators available so you can pick the perfect accompaniment to your formerly plain text.

Today, those cute little combinations of all those symbols we rarely use have morphed into miniature signage that rivals international travel iconography. Personally, I miss the old-fashion smiley face, but what would you expect from an old fogey like me.  If you’ll excuse me, I have a cook-out to plan for dinner. I know I have some hot dogs in the fridge somewhere.  🙂

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

So They Say

Michael 1 Comment

Some things I think we need to think about.

Driving down the road I came upon a sign that read “Airport 10” alerting me that I was a mere 10 miles from the local airport. About a mile down the road I came upon a sign that read “Airport 10” alerting me that something was wrong here! But what was it that was wrong? Was it the distance to the airport? Was it the selected sign? Was there a flaw in the road? Had I driven through some time/space continuum and will forever be 10 miles from the airport? Or it from me? Or perhaps it was a sign. We probably need a conspiracy theorist for that one.

If that was confusing there are others out there just as confusing. Farther along that same road there is a restaurant. I hesitate to specify the type of restaurant because the sign doesn’t make it very clear. Below the restaurant name is the legend “Japanese Chinese Bistro.” None of those go together! That’s like calling a restaurant a Spanish Danish Deli. I imagine because the cultures were specifically kept separate that it is not a fusion restaurant but one where there is a menu of Japanese offerings, another of Chinese offerings, all presented in a European casual dining atmosphere.

Heading down a different road I was approaching another restaurant in search of its being. This one isn’t looking for an ethnic identity; it’s looking for what it wants to be when it grows up. It wants to be a fine dining establishment but it is more of a slightly overpriced not quite up enough upscale brasserie. At the end of its drive, the owner had a new sign erected, large enough to be seen at 45 miles per hour. And it says, “Try Our New Lite 5 Course Menu.” I think of light (or lite) as a salad and smallish delicate entrée. I suppose if you can successfully lighten up five courses you can charge the world for it. And they do.

And yet farther along the drive I passed a beer distributor. Mind you, unless that earlier drive through the space/time thingy really screwed things up, it is still August. But the big sign in front of the beer shop proclaimed the arrival of this year’s first bottling of pumpkin beer. And I thought the grocery stores with the Halloween candy displays were rushing the season. If we’re dong pumpkin beer before school even starts will we be doing egg nog for Columbus Day? Or perhaps a summer shanty for New Years.

Sometimes things just don’t all add up. Remember that the next time someone says to you, “They say…”

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

T(-Shirt) is for Thinking

Michael 2 Comments

I’m all for self-expression. I’ve expressed my approval of it already in several posts. Over the years we’ve written about expressing one-self in signs on our the walls (Walls O’ Wisdom, March 19, 2012) on license plates (UNDTSAY, April 2, 2012) and even on license plate frames (Mobile Philosophy, June 30, 2014). But the “selfest” of self-expression has to be the T-shirt. And by goodness there are some expressive ones out there!

I started wondering about this a couple of weeks ago. I was at the supermarket and was reminded of how nobody wears a plain collared shirt any more. Everything has something on it. Around here, the sports-minded person rarely goes out in public without declaring his or her devotion to some team or another. (See ‘Tis the Season – Summer 2014 Edition, July 28, 2014.) Coming on strong, though, are the shirts that spout his or her thoughts beyond championship seasons.

It always seems to be around the meat counter that I am struck by people’s clothing. This time it was a guy wearing a T-shirt that read “Lie Like You Mean It.” I found myself wondering if his wife gave it to him for his birthday. Two aisles over, another fellow sported “Drive It Like You Stole It.” Two shirts, two commandments. We were on a roll!

It wasn’t just the men – or maybe boys. A woman got me noticing her T-Shirt inscribed with the self-assured (self-)expression “I’m A Keeper.” Another had a more practical opinion to share. Her shirt read “If I Had Ruby Slippers I Wouldn’t Pick Kansas.” And my favorite was a lady mature enough to be in her retirement years seen at the deli counter, “Out To Lunch – Permanently!”

My walls are filled with boards and posters of seemingly clever sayings (Behind every great man is an enormous amount of caffeine); I actually have a custom license plate frame appropriate to an old geezer that I someday want to grow up to be (Aged to Perfection). I don’t have a vanity plate on the car but I have thought of it. But I can honestly say I’ve a veritable dearth of philosophical clothing.  The closest I come to is an old T-shirt proclaiming “I Fought the Lawn and the Lawn Won.” Actually, if you ever saw my lawn you’d realize that isn’t philosophical.  That’s the honest to gosh truth!

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

It’s a Sign I Tell You, a Sign

Michael Leave a comment

It must be hard to make a good sign. Professional sign makers all across the country, all across the world, have botched up otherwise perfectly good signs with some single silly mistake.  A misspelled word, poor placement, an incorrect font size, a bad color. If the pros are subject to these kinds of guffaws, think what the poor amateur must go through. You don’t even have to think actually. Just read the signs!

Summer is here in all its glory. And what do we do in summer? We party! There are family reunions, high school graduation parties, block parties, church festivals, and nationality days. Summer is also the time for garage sales and yard sales. Every one of these events is marked with a hunk of poster board stapled to a utility pole and with a colorful helium-filled balloon attached to a corner.

Signs are great ideas. Before the days of GPS how else did we get from Point A to Stop 2. And then, since most people knew their relatives, local parks, classmates, and neighbors, signs didn’t have to say that much. A boldly printed “Penny’s Party” with a good size arrow pointing the way mounted at a critical intersection was enough to do the trick.

Today they are still good ideas, even in the presence of GPS. Unfortunately, they aren’t so well executed anymore. Instead of a poster board and a Sharpee, one is more apt to come across a sign printed on a home computer. That means small paper that somebody thought would look good with a cute graphic which took up half of the available space so that little writing can be printed and/or seen and then printed on an ink jet printer whose print bleeds off the page after the first morning’s dew. I saw one sign whose “owner” thought it a good idea to highlight all of the words on the sign. After it rained, the only thing on the sign was a series of yellow lines.

Occasionally someone will make a good sign. So good is it that the person who put it up leaves it up. There is a sign at the bottom of the hill I live on that says “Garage Sale, Saturday, 9-1.” It’s been there for 6 weeks.

There is one sign in the area that I particularly like. It’s big enough to see form the road and the font is big enough to read from the road. It’s in eye-catching colors of a white font on a dark blue background. There is an arrow printed right on the sign, not an extra tacked above or below it waiting to fall off on its own accord. It’s such a good sign I’d like to follow it and congratulate the sign maker. Except I don’t know who or what to look for. You see, the only word on that large, well thought out, very visible sign is “Event.”

But then, if you’re one of those who have been invited (whom have been invited?) (umm…If you’re one of the invitees), do you really need much more information than that? Naw, probably not.

Now, that’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?

No Means Why Not

Michael Leave a comment

Jerry Seinfeld once said that the only warning label people really pay attention to is “Dry Clean Only.”  He has a point.  Just about everything else we are told not to do we do and do it with gusto.  If you take a warning label, put it on steroids, turn the fabric to metal, and hang it on a pole along the side of the road you get those big warning signs.  They don’t have anywhere near the impact of “Dry Clean Only.”

Perhaps it’s because we got back to real winter weather.  Perhaps it’s because all of the stars lined up just right and all of the blind, nearly blind, and soon to be blind-sided were out driving at the same time.  Perhaps it’s because so many people take traffic laws as suggestions.  For whatever reason, yesterday was not a day to be out driving in the local business district.

There are some “No” traffic laws that are never going to be heeded.  No passing on right.  No turns from shoulder.  No lane changing in tunnel.   Most people do them and get away with them without much problem.  There are other “No” laws that are to be heeded because they are more vital to life.  They usually involve aiming the car at a point that crosses traffic and that traffic is usually high speed and busy not paying attention to its own warnings.  No left turn.  No U turn.  No turn on red.  Yesterday was the day that for every “No” the signs said there was a driver saying “Oh yes I can.”

It’s along one span of a quite large business route that there are traffic lights every 500 feet or so.  Shopping centers, malls, clusters of stores and restaurants, and car dealerships line both sides of the 4 or 5 mile stretch of roadway.  To keep unnecessary traffic out of these various shopping areas’ parking lots, most of the lights permit U-turns.  But then, most of the road is only 2 lanes in either direction.  At the two lights where the road expands to 4 lanes each way the lights are clearly signed “No U Turn.”  At both of these there were cars literally lined up to reverse their courses rather than travel the quarter-mile to the next legal switching point.  At both of these the cars were still lined up after at one intersection the U-Turning car was struck by another and at the second the U-Turning car crossed two lanes of traffic and did half a donut to avoid being struck by a car bearing down on him.

Along a different road there are two “No Left Turn” intersections that, if permitted, would require the turning car to pass in front of three lanes of uncontrolled oncoming traffic.  At the first of these I had to stop while not one, not two, but three of the four cars ahead prepared to make an unlawful left turn.  To be safe about it, they all had their turn signals on.  At the second of these there was only one car making its illegal turn.  That car was a police car.

There just isn’t enough space to detail all of the No Turn on Red turns but one was absolutely spectacular.  That will be a post for another day.

There was no indication of how many of these scofflaws needed to have something dry cleaned.  By the end of the day, I did.

Now that’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you.