La Brea Tar Pit Cone

Who would have expected it to look any different.

Man. Dog. Cone.

Coneyard by Marriott

Cone-tributors

When people stop me on the street, they most often say, "Stop following me or I will call the police." But their second-most frequent utterance is, "Boy, we sure enjoy the whimsical appearances of traffic cones on that Salty Wound blog."

The cone craze continues to spread, and my in-box has been flooded with submissions from fellow cone-oisseurs. I now offer to you just a small sampling.

From Christopher Prescott, I like to call this "Between God and Cone-Tree."



Brian Kantor of the terrific band Higgins spotted this one in the Gowanus Cone-al:



Glenn Martin pulled this cone-flagration off live streaming video in San Francisco.



And from my own collection, a before-and-after. First, I noticed outside my Hoboken apartment building that when city trees are cut down, the stumps turn fluorescent orange…



But lo and behold, under cover of darkness, that stump blossomed into a beautiful baby traffic cone!

Japanese Cones

We spotted some of these cat cones in Japan, in various sectors. Oftentimes they connect the cones with plastic connectors, unseen in the States.

Territory Cone

Cone spotted in Guam Airport:



I'm disappointed I didn't have my camera on me when my brother-in-law pointed out a cone in the middle of jungle on the nearby island of Rota. It didn't appear to have a purpose.

Romantic Cones

I saw this image on Isa's computer. She has no idea where it came from. It's so rich with symbolism: are the cones having a romantic moment in a beautiful place? Are we, the viewers, being warned of the danger of continuing further into the beautiful waterfall?
Why were the cones framed so properly in the rule of thirds style? And, lastly, is this art?

Saturday Night Burger Buddy

"Excuse me, now, I don't mean this to be something weird...."

Oh boy, here it comes, something weird. He wants money. He must want money.

3:30 a.m. on the PATH train. It had been a long Saturday night, what with the college-radio friend's art opening and the record-store friend's friend's band's gig and the art opening after-party. Plus daylight saving time. I just wanted to be home in bed. But it appeared that first, I'd be having a conversation with this fellow sitting across from me, one of only a few passengers on the train car.

He explained—gesturing to the white paper bag next to him—that he had purchased too much food at White Castle.

Will I buy some of the food off him. He wants money. He must want money.

So would I like a cheeseburger?

Now, I'm a college-educated, respected professional, just short of turning 40, so of course I gave the only logical response: "Uh....sure." Get a few drinks in me on a Saturday night, and I turn into a LOLcat.

He handed me the slider, and I thanked him. But before taking a bite, I noticed the conductor who had just entered the train car. "They don't allow eating on the train," I said, all holier-than-thou, "so we'll have to ask her permission."

It was totally OK with her. This sparked a discussion of ethics and modern culture with my cheeseburger chum: people's lack of appreciation for those who clean the trains, me quoting liberally from a viral Louis CK clip, the need to treat everyone with respect, et cetera, et cetera. All the while we both chowed down.

Train's almost in the station. Brace yourself, man. Here comes the pitch. He wants money. He must want money.

I was getting off in Hoboken, and he was staying on to Jersey City, so we said our farewells, and I profusely thanked him again for his generosity. But as I exited the station and walked the quiet night streets of the Mile Square City, a thought occurred: Perhaps I should not have eaten the cheeseburger.

I could've just accepted it—as to not seem rude—but "saved it for later" or maybe clandestinely inserted it in my jacket sleeve whilst pretending to eat. He didn't want money, but he must've wanted something. To kill a random train passenger with a poisoned burger? No, no, he was eating also. Well of course—he handed you the poisoned one, dummy. Great, I'm going to die. I'm not going to make it to my 40th birthday because I ate a hamburger given to me by a random man on the train in the middle of the night. Did "don't take candy from strangers" not sink into my brain from all those classroom scare-tactic films? But no, he and I just had that morality chat—he's a good man, not a cold-blooded killer! Maybe I won't die, I'll just get really, really sick. That wouldn't be too bad. Heck, I deserve it. What diseases could be purposely transmitted via wafer-thin beef patty, bun, cheese, and diced onions? Did I eat a pickle? I think I ate a pickle. I don't like pickles. I guess I'm still a little drunk. Oh I don't want to die.

It's four days later, and I'm still not dead. No apparent symptoms, not even any gastrointestinal distress. (I've got kind of a cast-iron gut.) And the scary thing is, I have to imagine I'd do it again.

Maybe I should've offered him money. He wanted money, but was too proud. I'd gladly pay him Tuesday for a hamburger today.

Cone Dracula

This week on True Blood: The gang learns you can kill a vampire by driving a wooden traffic cone through its heart.

Cono de Tráfico

Cone up to Code

Spotted: Traffic cone array in Westlake Village

Topanga Traffic Cone

Frank's traffic cone post inspired me to show him how it's done in Topanga.

This neighbor has a GREEN traffic cone, at the ready, for any situation that might come his way:

Helicopter in Topanga

Yesterday John and I were sitting on the yurt steps and watching the dogs roll around in the grass. I saw a red helicopter fly over us. I noted it wasn't a news chopper, police or fire either. There was something odd about it-- perhaps its trajectory or speed--that I couldn't put my finger on. So I waved to it.

And then it crashed down the road.

No one was hurt, though.

The lowly traffic cone

Traffic cones are among the most inconspicuous features in the landscape. This is interesting, because they are supposed to conspicuous - signifying the need for attention and caution. But they are constantly being left behind and forgotten. The cone pictured here has been perched at the base of a light pole near my house for a really long time, possibly even predating the Iraq War. Originally it was probably left there by a utility crew. Since it sort of looks like it might belong there (as long as you don't think about it too much), it will never get moved.

If I was running from the police and had to quickly stash some contraband, I would drop it safely into the top of a traffic cone for later retrieval.

On my way home from work I counted the orphaned cones along my route: eleven! There may have been even more; they are so inconspicuous that several times I forgot I was counting them.

Trash Talk

The complete set of comics, coloring books, and posters on how to be safe around clergy can be accessed here:

http://www.archny.org/pastoral/safe-environment-program/training/

(God doesn't like bad language; neither does He like misspelling. Can you spot the error?)

Never walk alone

Tangentially related to the Cardinal Mahony story, the Catholic Church released this personal-safety comic book yesterday.