Lost in Translation

Here are a few more things which have caught my eye in the last week or so.  I regret that the picture quality is a little suspect for some of these, but I tend to rely on a basic camera phone, rather than dragging my Canon 20D all over the place.  I hear Kev wincing at my admission, when he routinely lugs around cameras and lenses and rarely misses an opportunity.  In my defence, I’m usually on a dodgy bike with a 2-year-old trying to steer with his feet, so I can do without the extra responsibility of photographic equipment.

Anyway, I rather like the look of this advertisement:

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Whereas, I hate the look of this place:

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It’s a brand new building in Zhubei with some of the most hideous decoration and embellishments you could possibly imagine.  It simply has no place in this city, in my humble opinion.  This, on the other hand, is exactly the sort of thing I want to see on restaurants if I am to be tempted inside:

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And this is exactly what I want to see on scooters (the small-print, not the battle scars):

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I love the fact that the image features a bloke with red hair and blue eyes.  A native, he ain’t.

Here’s another slightly perplexing tag-line, used by a major drinks franchise chain:

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I’ve saved my favourites until the end.  We’ve come south for Chinese New Year with the Chens, so the boy and I went out on the bike in Kaohsiung this morning (here we are)

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and happened to do a short spin through the grounds of the Museum of Fine Art; never mind Salvador Dali (exhibition currently on view), they seem to have turned the development of warning signs into a fine art.  In reverse order of sheer quality, I give you:

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I, for one, would pay good money to see somebody worshipping in such a fashion, unless they simply happen to be followers of that rather irritating British diver, Tom somebody or other.  This one is slightly more, erm, surreal (Dali would approve?):

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I have it on good authority (read: Goooooooooogle) that qigong is “a Chinese system of physical exercises and breathing control related to tai chi”, but I have yet to ascertain the risks I face on encountering such activity.  These two, however, pale into insignificance when compared to the sign I want adopted all over the world.  I give you:

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Check the small-print – it’s not grafitti.  The adoption of such language on this particular type of sign may be just what we need to get through to the selfish, lazy, ignorant arseholes who need to have it explained to them that a pile of putrid pooch poop should be removed appropriately.  It reminds me of this, which came to my notice through Twitter a while back.  Gotta love that Aussie style:

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That is all, except for this rather wonderful song about words:

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