A reader forwarded me this image. It's one of the damnedest pieces of signage I've ever encountered.
A leather-jacketed tough, 1950s-style, biding his time leaning against a brick wall, standing on top of a...big yellow clock.
WTF? The clock—which has no hands and hasn't worked in years—obviously has nothing to do with the current tenants of the building, an Assemblywoman and some lawyers. The greaser is chained to the wall and a bit weatherbeaten. Any Howard Beachers out there who know the story?