Contrary to what your parents may have told you as a child, there are monsters in this world. They come in all shapes and sizes, but their singular goal is to drive sane, graphically sensible people crazy with their ignorance of spatial relations and their shoddy design skills. These people do not want you to live healthy and prosperous lives. They want you to flip out.
How the hell did this happen? What kind of monster uses symbols of arithmetic in elevator consoles? Does this elevator only go down? What are the absolute values of the floors? Better question: what is the absolute value of TOTAL MORON? Because that's who approved it, and that's how much he/she is worth.
Every time you shop with one of these, it's like being on the receiving end of some Krav Maga wrist hold because of how much it hurts. If they just put the handle the long way, it would be so much easier to hold. But no: some disgruntled intern had to go and throw this genius idea into the mix.
Well, break out the Nobel Prize for Poetry and give it to this trucking company for their epic couplet. They say when God closes a door, he opens a window. Well, when this company closes a door, they jump out of one. Corporate suicide.
Location, location, location! The old adage refers not only to real estate, but property of all kinds, including signage. Now, here is a classic example of not reading a location. Then again, if there are deep-fried lost children out there, they're probably all in Florida, and a search party can be sent to round them up.
15 what? Miles per hour? Yards per second? What units are these? And how can you go seven eighths of them? If the farmers in this country village were trying to confuse automated tractor robots with strange speed limits, then...they might have succeeded.
This architect must have had latent psychopathic tendencies to do such a thing to an innocent light switch. Every time you go to switch off the light, you're reminded of the insurmountable evil in this world, and the darkness that all too often enables its manifestations. So sad.
I've said it once and I'll say it again: The restaurant industry is going downhill. What happened to the creativity? The elan? The sophistication? Restaurant Logo Here? More like Bad Restaurant This. Don't pay the check if you go to this place. Your spouse can slip through the kitchen, while you exit out the front "for a cigarette" and get in your car. You can also leave your spouse there to flounder if your relations aren't on great terms.
What happens when you have a roomful of art connoisseurs that start to heatedly debate the praxis of the latest Koontz, and a full on brawl ensues? What happens when someone accidentally trips the latch on the front door? Massacre. Deathtrap. That's what happens. Museum without an exit? Don't say I didn't warn you.
These people really want to spread infectious disease and bacteria. That, or they want to breed a generation of quick-drawing gunslingers in preparation for some Wild West themed apocalypse. You'd have to have the hand-speed of the Flash to be able to activate the sensor and then get a squirt of soap on your palm.
This makes all cyclists sound like emotional basket cases needing constant supervision or therapy. Although many of them do, to generalize is to make an ass out of oneself. Cyclists do need some space on the road, but they want to share it. Whoever designed this sign obviously has no sympathy for cyclists.
This one's for all you cannibals out there that have a hankering for a very specific meal: Jessica's kith and kin. Every Jessica's family meal comes with a side of Stan's cousin's calves and a warrant for your arrest. That last one has free refills!
Don't look too closely or too long. You could develop acute misanthropy, full-on freak-out disease, or IDGAFOS syndrome. Whoever designed this carpeting was probably a sadist, and also probably a dirty, disgusting post-modernist, maybe even of the Bauhaus school. Rip it up.