What is all day, really? Is it 24 hours? Or is it really just seven hours?
random signs
Signs of rebellion, signs signifying nothing, signs of fish slowly cooking
I took a photo of a woman smoking in front of a No Smoking sign at Metrotown. She got up and left after I took the picture, though I don’t think she actually saw me (I was not close by).
I see smokers doing this a lot. I wonder if they are simply natural born rebels (“You can’t tell me smoking is addictive, smelly and expensive!”) or if smoking somehow causes them to read signs and interpret them in the opposite manner (“I must smoke here, I see the little cigarette symbol.”) or if maybe there are so few places for people to smoke now that they just smoke anywhere outside because nicotine/addiction/etc.
Mostly I just like the juxtaposition.
Here’s another one I took in Central Park. This is a nice place to go for a leisurely stroll, especially if your hip isn’t stupidly sore. I hadn’t been there for awhile and went to consult the map to find the little duck pond so I could look delightedly at the ducks. The map was kind of a “make your own adventure” thing:
I eventually found the pond with the ducks and noticed it was also stocked with zombie fish. You can’t really tell in the shot below but if it was animated it would look no different because these were the least active but not actually dead fish I have ever seen. Given that it was recently confirmed that this July was the hottest since they started keeping records (and also the hottest month ever) the fish are probably swimming in the equivalent of warm soup. I felt bad for them, even though their hips would be perfectly healthy if, you know, fish had hips.
By the by, I realize I have the photographic eye of a tree sloth. If I was feeling a little more limber and daring I might have tried climbing a tree for a more dramatic angle on the fish, but I was sore (the hip, you see), it was hot and why risk falling on the fish and making their lives even more wretched? Plus I wouldn’t put it past myself to drown in two feet of water. I am not Aquaman.
Signs (not the movie) and coyotes
Back on June 1 2012 I encountered a coyote while running. It was ahead of me on the trail and dashed off into the bushes as I approached, probably because I wasn’t carrying a nice juicy baby in my arms. I also encountered coyotes twice this summer on my way to or from Burnaby Lake. In each case the coyote scooted away at my approach, then stopped at a safe distance as I passed by. Again, each probably did so because I wasn’t covered in layers of sausage links or raw meat.
Coyotes are generally to be avoided because you never know. Maybe the one you see is scouting ahead for a pack that will tear you apart. Maybe the one you stumble across is starving and will tear you apart. Maybe it’s just in a bad mood and will tear you apart.
The City of Vancouver knows this and near the trail that circumvents the Langara Golf Course they have erected this sign:
One thing I’ve learned while jogging is that people ignore signs. I’m fairly certain that if you put up a sign that said the following:
WARNING: If you take ten more steps you will fall into a pit filled with lava and large iron spikes. This will kill you very painfully. You should immediately turn around now.
At the end of the day the lava and iron spike pit would be filled with so many bodies that they would pile above the edge of the pit and thus the pit would no longer be an obstacle to all the other people ignoring the sign.
I am being unfair, though. Many people do read signs. They just interpret them. I’m not sure why they do this. Perhaps it comes from a lot of dangerous free thinking or a general belief that rules are for bad people and no one sees themselves as bad so the rules obviously don’t apply to them.
With that in mind, I present the interpretation of the coyote sign that many people may have:
This is not my best example of sign fakery but I spent way too much time on it as it is. At least I put my research skills to use in trying to determine which font was used (my best guess is Century Gothic).
By the way, if you use your favorite search engine (okay, Google) you can find enough stories about coyote attacks to convince you to never step outside again. Especially if you’re a juicy baby. Heck, just check out the Vancouver Coyote Sightings Map. There’s about a billion coyotes out there. Imagine if they all operated under some kind of hive mind and began a reign of terror. Now imagine someone writing a really crappy novel about it. Now go buy the novel on Amazon because I’m pretty sure someone has already written this book.