The Truth About Signs

I believe it is time, my feathered friends to explore the numerous signs that try their very best to guide our way through the world safely. If you are like me, then some will leave you scratching your head, wondering why there was a need to have them made in the first place. Never fear! I have done all of the research for you. Take the title image, for instance. How many times have you heard your mom ask the very same question growing up? I know my mom’s favorite saying was, “Make sure you leave the house with clean underwear on in case you have a car accident.” I am pretty sure the paramedics will not stop to admire my clean panties mid-rescue. Could you image the conversation?

“Wow Johnson! This one remembered to put on clean panties this morning.”

“Whew! Finally. I was beginning to lose hope. My faith in humanity has been restored.”

“Mine too. Now cut them off of her. We have to get this bleeding under control.”

Now your favorite pair of underwear is in ribbons. Who needs that? If you are going to sacrifice a pair, it might as well be the ones that have holes in them. Mom’s have their ways, however mysterious, thus the title sign was born.


Road trips can suffer during long periods of nothing where even the radio has given up the ghost. There are only so many games of “I Spy” that you can play before you start daydreaming of picking up a hitchhiker with murderous intent just to save you from the never ending boredom. If you chose your route carefully, you may find your eyes feasting on none other than the treacherous ROAD SIDE FLASHER! I know what you are thinking, “how bad could he possibly be? Everyone enjoys a little skin.” Normally, I would be the first to agree with you; however, this is no ordinary flasher. Seeing a naked man along side the road, doing his best impression of a wacky, waving, inflatable tube man is fabulous. Hell, it would even be a nice distraction to his best Buffalo Bill impression. Unfortunately, no. You don’t even get to see any skin. It is because of the hair. Is that a man? Is it Sasquatch? Has Harry finally become a Henderson? For kilometer after kilometer the same dude appears right over the next hill, waiting for you. Is this the long lost cousin of Cousin It? When did the hair clog in your shower drain become a sentient being? Thank you very much Liquid Plumber for contributing to this walking hairball man. My drain is still clogged by the way.


The quiet city of Ramma Lamma Ding Dong has a huge problem, Jimmy’s giant sausage. Every day when he walked to work, his massive meat caused all kinds of chaos. Cars were crashing into each other. Old ladies were missing the narrow windows available to cross the street at a snail’s pace. It was mayhem, I tell you! The town had an emergency meeting before any more lives were lost due to beefy mishaps. The citizens struggled for hours to come up with a solution. Meanwhile, Jimmy was starting to get the meat sweats, knowing his sausage was up on the chopping block. There was a vote. Either Jimmy had to share his heftiness with the town or restrict his movements. Seeing the hunger in the eyes boring into him, both male and female alike, Jimmy denied the town his goods. Today, when you visit the town of Ramma Lamma Ding Dong, take a moment an honor Jimmy’s sign. If you are really nice, he might, just might, let you handle his sausage.


Deer season is coming. Most people have the strange idea that you are supposed to hunt these majestic creatures. In order to educate the masses, the good people of the National Funky Town & Wildlife Awareness Preserve installed these signs all across the country. You see, deer season is all about dancing. Did you know that deer are the reining break dance champions? I know, I was shocked as well. You would think the horns would impede their moves. After seeing them cut a rug, I can personally tell you that those horns make for some of wildest dance moves that I have ever seen. The bigger the horns, the better the dancer. Another function of the sign is to warn you of spontaneous dance battles. You better bring your very best moves and grooves if you want to stand a chance against these bucks. Don’t let the does fool you. Those ladies can jump, jiggle, and jive.Lace up your dance shoes and find your inner Funky Comadena baby.


Most people do not know that the reason Dorothy never got to travel over the rainbow was because she refused to learn how to ride a motorcycle. If she had, then maybe she would not have wound up in Oz fighting a green faced, elderly woman over a pair of shoes. Fortunately for all of you, I am here to let you in on this secret. First, you have to purchase a kick ass bike. Next, you have to learn to ride it like a rock star. Make sure you wave your hands in the air like you just don’t care. If you care even a little bit, you are doomed to spend eternity with the ROAD SIDE FLASHER. That’s right. Imagine the end of the infinite constantly coughing up hair balls.


There are sometimes when I do research for you guys, that half way through I feel like tearing my hair out. I take one for the team because seeking out the truth is my main goal. You, my dear readers, deserve only the very best. With that in mind, I put on my very best pair of panties, withstood the ROAD SIDE FLASHER, carried Jimmy’s mighty sausage, learned some killer dance moves from the deer, and waved my hands with zero care. Why did I do all of this? It was for the sole purpose of finding out if there were indeed “Humps for 650 yards” If the ginormous smile on my face was not a big enough clue for you, then I shall spell it out for you. Please hold. I am a bit sore from my travels.


For more adventures into absolute silliness, read  Ramma Llama Ding Dong

Until next time, my feathered friends, I bid you ado.


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