When I’m on my bike, I can’t help but to notice signs. As I mentioned in earlier posts, sometimes their meaning isn’t clear, or what their creators might have intended.
A case in point is what I saw the other day on Point Lookout.
I mean, it’s nice that the village now has a bocce court. But what do they think the players are doing after games?
The day before, I pedaled to Connecticut, which involves crossing the RFK Memorial-Triborough Bridge. Like most other crossings in this area, it has a sign for those who are thinking about going to the other side—and I’m not talking about Randall’s Island.
As someone who’s lost people to suicide, it’s not something in which I normally find humor. I must admit, however, that I chuckled when I saw this.
“Don’t waste the trip. Take Don Jr. with you.” I would prefer, though, that Darwin would find a way to deal with the son of El Cheeto Grande—and the big cheese himself.
