As some of you know, I live with Karen in a terraced house-type thing across the road from a train station. Okay, it’s not really a house. It’s an orange juice carton, and we open the lid when it gets too sticky.
I can hear your brain clawing its way back onto the rails. Once you’ve caught up, proceed to the next sentence.
So I park the car outside the train station, and that’s super. This morning I walked outside into the bright crispness of a wintry March, and commenced the processes which would ultimately lead to me driving to work. But lo, hindrance! My windscreen was quite quite covered in ice, except for one corner.
Upon further investigation, I saw that the boundary between icen glass and dicen glass displayed correspondence with the edge of a shadow. Upon tracing the shadow back to its source, I located the culprit. An advertising hoarding!
This enormous advertising hoarding prevents the rising sun from defrosting my car’s windscreen! Burn it! Burn it!
Or I could just park in a slightly different place.
Sea Level Sky
March 3, 2005
The Evil Of Advertising
Why is your house sticky?
Or shouldn’t I ask?
Because of all the orange juice in it. Obviously.
I always wondered why these posts were in the category goo. Sticky goo, one assumes.
What’s on the other side of the billboard? Don’t forget, this is my industry and it could be one of mine.
Evil! Evil advertiser! Burn him!
I see what’s happening here. I’m being victimised. I’m going to say some about an escaped goat and then nothing more. Pete, help me out.
You started it, with your billboards.