Because, this image:
I hereby announce the bLA Graffiti Grammar Bingo & Bee. Once I post five of these, the first commenter gets a prize if they type BINGO!!!! and then identify the error. (Exclamation points not required.)
Obviously, this one should be “you’re,” and I also deduct points because the elephant appears to be both balancing on a ball and levitating to paint the sign. You can’t do both, Jumbo. I know these things.
I welcome submissions. Ping me at the address on my profile to send me one.
(click to enlarge the two-frame pano for better legibility)
As found this morning on the Ballona Creek Bikeway under Overland Avenue on my commute to work — and mere moments before the almost ever-present and duly diligent Culver City graffiti abatement crewmember began painting it out.
“Not your average tag,” I said to him after dismounting, and with several quick shots of compressed air through his sprayer’s nozzle he smiled and nodded in agreement. I attempted to capture the statement in a single snap, but stepping backward I ended up pressed up against the bridge support with only “I’m a human being God damn it. My life has” fitting into the frame. “Value” was out of reach… wide right.
Is it ironic to proclaim one’s worth in so worthless a manner; to present such lofty sentiment from the dank shadows beneath the surface; to argue such an ideal in so not idyllic a place? Or is the greater irony found in the validation that comes from bringing this truth up from where it now lies buried under a layer of fresh cover-up paint for the rest of us to see?
What was prompted by the nazi swastiki-augmented hate graffiti I found in Culver City along Ballona Creek bikeway that begat this post here and then continued with this post here after a city paint-out attempt a few days later left it still mind-blowingly legible, can finally and successfully be concluded here thanks to the nastiness being found entirely painted out on Friday’s ride in to work:
The interesting thing was that on Thursday’s ride I found one of the crew I’d seen at work on Wednesday morning and I stopped to ask him why it had been left visible. He told me that the taggers had apparently used some sort of paint — perhaps metallic or oil-based — that allowed it to creep back through anything put on top of it.
That didn’t jive in the slightest with the fact that the gate had only been touched up twice to cover the dark paint of smaller gang tags instead of completely recovered, but I didn’t want to argue the point since the worker said he’d planned on returning to the scene of the slime and priming the thing with black before rolling on a second layer of the gray in hopes that would take it out once and for all — which it did, at least until the aryans come back to redecorate.
Somewhere in northeast LA, there’s a graffiti artist that actually invested the time and energy required to illustrate, cut and spray a stencil of raven-maned and virilely mustachioed new age maestro Yanni on an otherwise unassuming wooden fence on Eagle Rock Boulevard near Auntie Em’s Kitchen (who, on an unrelated note, are still the purveyors of the finest biscuits and gravy in the tri-county area). Anonymous Yannificiando, we here at Metroblogging salute your dedication to mediocrity and, if we may be so bold as to suggest a contender for the second in what’s sure to be a long running series, humbly submit the name of the one and only Mr. John Tesh.