The north side of the 1400 block of West Broadway is having a problem with graffiti.

The problem began in 2013 when a planned mural on one two-storey building just never materialized.

Most taggers seem to respect finished murals. Murals that are never finished—apparently not so much.

The result has been a cycle of taggers tagging and building management overpainting.

The pictures represent just a recent snapshot, beginning with building management painting over graffiti tags the height of and half the length of the wall. That was on April 11.

Three days later, on April 14, the sun rose over the new tag someone had thrown up overnight.

It doesn’t even look like an elephant taking a whiz. It looks exactly like what it is—a drain pipe.

Actually it looks like a photograph of a drain pipe and one that I’m disinclined to waste.

I took the photo while deep in the thrall of my last post about Tachowa Covington, the guy living in the water tank—the water tank British street artist Banksy thought looked a bit like an elephant.

“The elephant in the room” is a phrase that refers to a thing so obvious it goes without saying.

In a new play about British street artist Banksy and how he made an American street person that much more homeless…the thing that goes without saying in the play is its real-life homeless central character.

And that, it seems to me, just adds insult to the original injury.

The play, called The Room in the Elephant, by playwright Tom Wainwright, fictionalizes the true story of how Tachowa Covington, an American street artist in Santa Monica, built a life for himself on the margins of society.

The makers of the Cheerios breakfast cereal, and

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First off, this accident happened two weeks ago—April 4—at the intersection of 15th Avenue and South Granville Street. It’s taken me that long to get the photos which were taken by a friend (thank you).

At first glance, this photo made me think of how many times as a cyclist I’ve taken my eyes off the traffic around me to gawk at the advertising in the window of La Vie en Rose—I don’t know why, I don’t even wear a bra.

The point of impact on the sedan was on the passenger side. I’m told the collision occurred during the morning rush on South Granville; that the sedan somehow interacted with a truck and, like a billiard ball, came to a rest on the sidewalk a few inches shy of kissing the building.

This panorama photo looks east down the alley on the south side of West Broadway. My back is to the alley on the east side of Granville Street. Closest to the viewer on their right-hand side is the back of Fire Hall No. 4 and beside that is the back of the Firehall Vancouver Public Library branch.

On the other side of the alley is the back of Jordans, a large, family-owned, furniture store.

This is Zen, a cuddly dog with his cuddly toy dog, calmly waiting for his owner this morning outside the McDonalds at Broadway and Granville. Zen was tail-waggingly happy to greet each and every person coming out of the restaurant.

Friendly! Or was it because we all smelled like Egg McMuffins?

Spring means fresh landscaping opportunities.

Where the new generation of multi-unit pedestal towers are concerned, the law apparently specifies a footprint that’s just shy of putting the building’s front entrance right on the sidewalk. This doesn’t give landscapers a lot of canvas to work with and often they’re reduced to just pegging a handful of flowers into a few thin ribbons of dirt.

That’s about the sum of what a landscaper was able to do around the entrance of a pedestal tower on the southeast corner of Spruce Street and West Broadway Avenue. Just a weak show of small yellow flowers, but for one—the one pictured above. The flower that’s obviously in charge!

Today another panhandler showed me what it’s all about—what the majority of his proceeds went towards buying.

He calls it “down”, but by any other name it’s still supposed to be two flaps of heroin.

Two flaps of “number one”, my friend insisted. Twenty dollars each, he said, but not for him—he got it two for $30!

Such a bargain.

He tells me that as soon as his employment insurance cheques start rolling in—in two weeks, he hopes—he’s enrolling in a methadone drug treatment program.

We all wish him luck with that I’m sure.

The contents may be nothing to sneeze at (I was tempted) but it was the origamilike packaging they waste on this shit that really caught my eye. Who would have the time and patience to fold each one of these? 

A person might feel nervous right now if they lived in San Francisco and owned a Smart Car.

In the early morning of April 7, three or four Smart Cars in San Francisco were either tipped, flipped, or upended. A witness to one of the tippings reportedly told police it took six to eight people to lift the little 740-kilogram vehicle onto its rear end.

This so-called spree of Smart Car tipping in the California Bay hardly rates as either a fad or a crime wave, yet it is attracting an incredible amount of international media attention.

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