Along the way, I documented dumb signs, because they make me feel superior. My first swell of a better-than-you pride came at North Carolina's Cleveland Mall, which offers, hands down, the state's best seafod:
From Carolina we continued on a three day stretch through Tennessee, where we encountered no retarded signs. Go Vols.
But then came Kentucky, a state which said it was going to participate in the world's longest yard sale, but didn't really put much effort into it.
But while KY yard sales was few in number, the signs at each sale were bizarro masterpieces. Witness this miracle of double negativism:
It is impossible to read the text of such a sign out loud without picking your nose. And yet it remains a one-dimensional entry, and no match for the sign below, the complex irony of which you could spend a lunch hour admiring.
Ask not for whom folks honk, signmaker. They is honking at you.
Back at home, life is back to normal already. Boogus Totalus is in the hall watching Miss Teen USA. Ms. Michigan’s hobby was just listed as “Eating sour candy.” Hilarity ensued.
