Some people don’t like billboards. In fact, they despise them. It’s a hatred that pulses deep within the core of their very existence. Mention billboards to these individuals and you can actually observe the aneurism forming in their frontal lobe. You see, in their view, billboards are an obstruction to the real beauty of our world. They feel we must not sully the inherent perfection of green trees, babbling brooks and stunning vistas with clumsy commercial messaging.
And let’s admit it. Billboards are crass, and loud, and even jarring at times. They attack relentlessly as you fly by at 70 miles an hour. There is no escape. It’s easy to knock them. But for me, they, billboards, are us. They are man’s simplest extension of personal communication beyond “Hey, look at me. I’ve got something to say.” Granted, anything that isn’t the sound of our own voice can be annoying, but c’mon, let’s face it. Other people and what they want from us is part of the package we were all born into. The very act of living leads to some human obstruction of the landscape
But look at these ads. Each one as unique as a snowflake, except the ones that are identical of course, but those don’t count. They are an attainable advertising tool of both big business and small, worldwide chain and local realtor. All they ask is a glance, a fleeting moment of your time.
You’ve got the “Smart” ones, like the Volkswagen board that had a giant arrow warning drivers that a cop was hiding behind their sign catching speeders.
There are the “Manifesto” style billboards that by attempting to cram so much information into one sign actually ensure that no one, save a hitchhiker with a raging case of B.O., could ever have enough time to read through to the end.
There are the “Opportunist” billboards like the lawyer’s ads erected at major accident intersections. They sit there, praying for a major wreck, confident in their belief that the last post-accident thought you process before you drift into unconsciousness will be “Wow, a free initial consultation.”
The “Base Desire” ones are awesome. Giant, perfect hamburgers, french fries as big as cedar logs or 25 foot wide pizzas tempting your waistline. Car ads, providing a direct comparison between all that is shiny and new versus the sad bucket of crap you tool around with. Amazingly, chat line billboards treat your relationships in much the same manner.
Then you have the “Fake Map” ads. The supposedly helpful but actually self-serving directional signs saying things like “Turn left in 600 feet for great eats” or “45 minutes to hot and tasty.” These boards can be downright welcome at times but I am warning you now, do not quote travel time on your sign and then get it wrong. There is nothing that cranks me up more than a sign that promises 10 minutes to the next so and so that actually drops you in the middle of nowhere wondering where the heck the drive thru is. That always frosts my petunias.
Billboards can even serve our sense of community, indicating by their very presence one’s proximity to home. An ad that served this purpose for me was the old Westside lingerie billboard with its phenomenal slogan, “Say it with a thong.” I don’t know what you actually say with a thong but I always appreciated the sentiment. That, and the gargantuan buttocks of course. A grad prank removed this special landmark. It hasn’t been the same since.
So don’t be hatin’ the humble billboard. They are put up in earnest, appreciated by few and already decaying mere moments after completion. They are kind of like wallpaper. Not always appropriate or even that well thought out but definitive proof that we as humans were here. Besides, they can always be removed with a hot air gun, a scraper and a lot of patience.