California is the land of signs. Everywhere you go, something is smacking you in the face, informing you that whatever you’re doing, about to do, or thinking of doing is probably a good, bad, or inconsequential decision. It’s taken to the point of absurdity.
For example, consider the sign at the entrance to my apartment building’s parking garage:
“This area contains chemicals known to the State of California to cause cancer and birth defects or other reproductive harm.”
Weird, eh? Isn’t this same country that sneers at the thought of gun control (a fact of which I was reminded when some guy shot himself in the park across the street from my apartment)? One can only assume the carbon monoxide lobby is puny when compared with the NRA.
But it doesn’t stop there.
The per-capita ownership of vanity license plates is through the roof here. Everything from the seven-letter equivalent of “hi officer” to nauseatingly cute “his” “andhers” combinations accompanying matching SUVs.
Even TV gets in on the wackiness. The warnings accompanying drug advertisements are downright scary - who wants to use a treatment for acid-reflux disease that has side-effects that are worse than the disease? Or Cialis, a treatment for erectile disfunction, whose Superbowl advertisement included this warning: Erections lasting longer than 4 hours should be treated with immediate medical attention.
I nearly choked when I heard that ad. Then I went back to drinking my beer, the one I purchased from Safeway, under the careful watch of a sign noting: Drinking distilled spirits, beer, coolers, wine and other alcoholic beverages may increase cancer risk and during pregnancy can cause birth defects.
Where the hell am I? I thought this was California - you know, the party state! What kind of party state warns against chemical abuse, alcohol abuse, and four hour erections?