SIGNS LEAD NO-WHERE

SIGN, SIGN, everywhere a SIGN, blocking out the scenery, breaking my mind. Do this, don't do that, can't you read the SIGN.

---Five Man Electrical Band, 1970

Signs generally fall into three categories. Those that serve in the public interest, those that sell products and services and the most ancient and interesting, those identified with youth culture, political dissent and pure art, graffito aka graffiti. Between the constant escalating infusion of traffic signals, commercial billboards and the marking turf boundaries slash urban doodling variety, we're at a breaking point.I concede advertising is clever and entertaining but there is nary a public space left where you won't find a catchy message. No place is sacred. No nook or cranny overlooked. In some Miami neighborhoods the messages appear in three languages, English, Spanish and Creole aka Kreyol. Portuguese can't be far behind.Graffiti sometimes makes us stop and wonder. Think and ponder. For that alone it's better than the others combined but when it's sloppy and uninspired, more of an eye sore than anything else. Use chalk please. The worst offender is the Department of Public Works and Transportation who can't place new signs fast enough. Most we can live without. One place that has escaped the sign madness seems to be cemetaries. I guess Dead End says it all. Can't believe they missed this opportunity.The classic sign is still big, red and reads STOP. I just wish they'd heed their own dictate. Stop with the signs already!