Signs.

02_13_09-10

Oceandoggy had been noticing on his frequent walks with the dogs that the City seemed especially virulent in their sign erections.

So he decided to count them. To count just the City signs that were along his mile long daily path. You know, the stop signs, the street signs, and such. 

It took several weeks because oceandoggy either kept forgetting until he came around the final corner and said, “oh shit, I forgot again”, or because he would start counting and then his mind would wander, working on cures for cancer and renewable, inexhaustible energy, and prosperity and intelligence for all. 

It was tough. But finally he got his count.

91.

Thass right.

91 City mandated, carefully constructed, and meticulously placed, signs in the half mile oval of a quiet beach side residential community. 

91.

Seems a little extreme, perhaps even a trifle overbearing to oceandoggy but he is the first to admit he neither works for the City where signs appear to be the new currency of the realm nor is he a traffic engineer. 

Not to mention the volumes it speaks of oceandoggy’s life that he has the time to not only count signs, but take pictures of them, and write about them.

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