I’m generally not a huge fan of graffiti. Not because I think it’s some blight on the community landscape or because all art should come in frames and be painted by Thomas Kinkade; no, I don’t like graffiti because most of it sucks ass and makes no sense. Much as I hate what T-Kink and his sweatshop stable of student-loan saddled art school grads have done to art in the public consciousness, it’s nothing compared to the idiot taggers that roam my neighborhood in the wee hours, letting everyone know in no uncertain terms that reet^) lop nii ** SUX ZZZZ or whatever the hell they’re trying to say.
Fortunately, Hollywood Presbyterian Medical Center has plastered bus stops around town with a perfect opportunity for those taggers to redeem themselves. To wit:
This is just begging to be filled in with something hilarious. By way of illustration, here’s a conversation I had with my girlfriend when we first saw it:
SHE: If you were to spray-paint something on that line, what would it be?
ME: I dunno. Ass? Butt?
SHE: I think it should say My Pussy Hurts.
Your move, taggers. Make me proud.