Only a couple of weeks after an electronic sign in Pomona warned “Expect Delyas,” I saw a sign Saturday on Claremont’s Bonita Avenue with its own creative spelling.
If you own a unicorn in Rancho Cucamonga, you’re on the horns of a dilemma and might face a downward spiral. This sign at 19th and Haven was altered; you can see “unicorns” is pasted over the word “fireworks.” The photo was posted to a Facebook group and shared with me by reader Elizabeth Peterson Rynear, who said the sign had been removed by July 4. So if you do own one or more unicorns, it’s hard to say if animal control will be after you or not.
The “Seinfeld” mini-reunion commercial at the Super Bowl only had Jerry, George and Newman. I can’t speak to Elaine’s whereabouts, but Cosmo Kramer seems to have relocated to the Inland Valley, based on the names of a dry cleaner in Claremont and a masonry supply in Upland.
I can’t be the only who sees these campaign signs for Grover Merritt (above) and immediately thinks of the “Sesame Street” character (below).
I’m unaware of any political aspirations on the part of the blue Muppet, but people of a certain age will recall that he often daydreamed he was a crimefighter, Super Grover (bottom), a role that may not be so distant from being a district attorney. (Super Grover, whose alter ego was doorknob salesman Grover Kent, was described in the opening as “smarter than a speeding bullet.”)
At a Coco’s in Rancho Cucamonga the day before Thanksgiving, reader Tony says he and his wife were surprised to see pies stacked up everywhere for pickup, including a couple that he concluded might be for the National Security Administration. “I wondered why there was a black helicopter in the parking lot,” he joked.
(NSA would, of course, really stand for No Sugar Added. At least, that’s what the NSA would like us to believe.)
I don’t know what they sold in this store on Monte Vista Avenue in Montclair, probably wigs, but the name and logo always creeped me out when I’d drive by, making me think of, oh, I dunno, dolls with human hair that might come to life and strangle you in your sleep, while looking perky and innocent when found over your bruised corpse.
Now that the store is out of business, I thought I’d memorialize it before the sign is plucked.