Signs Of The Times

June 19, 2009 by
Filed under: Dog Shit Signage, Williamsburg 



When I stumbled upon these blue chip specimens of New York City signage in my photo pool (which come courtesy of Lost In Brooklyn) it reminded me that I have been woefully amiss in passing along a couple of my own finds. They hail from a recent sojourn through Williamsburg.


This no frills, proletariat model comes from Wythe Avenue. Although it looks like they had a little trouble with the “g” it seemed to be effective, nonetheless. I did not spy so much as a single doggy dumpling.


Bags of garbage, however, were another matter. Nice, but we can do better.


Like this example from North 9 Street.


This is a private garbage can. Do not trespass on my property to leave your dog shit here. Take it home with your and smell it by your house. This is especially directed to the person with her little blue bags.

Now this is more like it! Granted there is no implicit threat being made here, but I for one find the “we know who you are” aspect endearing.


In fact I was so impressed I shared the good news of my discovery with couple of folks writing poetry on Bedford Avenue. They were kind of enough to write a little something on the back of a flier for the Williamsburg Flea Market just for me. It was (appropriately enough) entitled “Shit”.



Miss Heather


3 Comments on Signs Of The Times

  1. travis on Fri, 19th Jun 2009 7:34 pm
  2. Perhaps my favorite bit of NYC signage ever would be the warning/plea in magic marker on my pal’s door on W. 100th & B’way many years ago:

  3. missheather on Fri, 19th Jun 2009 7:40 pm
  4. That almost sounds like a haiku. I love it!

  5. travis on Fri, 19th Jun 2009 8:07 pm
  6. A further (also scatologically-related (well, that strictly means poop, but related, at least, to earlier pee-pee comment)) comment re the no-dogshit-in New-York-Times-bags- in-my-garbage sign: as a longtime NYC dog-walker (though not right now; LuLu RIP), I’ve always wondered about these people (who are many). It’s not as if we have city cans on every corner around here, like in Manhattan.
    Anyway, my first wife used to yell “Whaddayou, feed your kids outta that can?” at them.

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