Off-Beat Visions of Good Ol’ 1997

Here they are, the winners in Only in L.A.’s 1997 Sign, Ad, Prescription and Tobacco-Spitter Centerfold Photo Competition. My thanks to the readers who contributed pictures and other items, and I apologize for being unable to respond to all your letters.

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MR. GOODWRENCH, YOU DEVIL: Service stations have long offered all manner of trinkets and prizes to attract customers. But in West Hills, Jack Daniels photographed a possible first-of-a-kind offer, obviously directed at women.

Not to mention Dennis Rodman.

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SPEAK UP DOCTOR, I CAN’T HEAR YOU! Thomas MacGowan of Inglewood had, of course, heard of the phrase, “Aw, stick it in your ear.” But until he picked up a prescription from his pharmacy, he never knew those words of wisdom could pass for medical advice.

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NO HARD SELL HERE: Otto Plum of Torrance snapped a yard sale sign that seemed to qualify for a truth-in-advertising award, if not a good grammar medal.

Certainly the notice contrasted with the snooty warning that your columnist saw at a similar event: “No Haggling Please.”

Of course, the latter yard sale was in Brentwood.

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WHOOPS! MAKE THAT 100 DALMATIANS: An anonymous reader sent along a photo that raised the question:

Who was the Cruella de Vil who took too much off the top at a pet grooming shop in Pasadena?

Bad human!

Makes you wonder if this is a place that charges a head and a leg.

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SPIT HAPPENS: Hardly anyone can spit a chunk of tobacco farther than Harbor City native David O’Dell, who entered the Guinness Book of World Records in the half-inch wad category (49 feet 5 1/2 inches).

Tobacco-spitting methods vary, of course. But O’Dell depends on the two-finger pucker to narrow the opening and thus direct the force of the wad. Effective, if not elegant.

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A MESSAGE OF SOME PORT: In the classified ad competition, there were several finalists among for-sale items, including a “weeding” gown, a 3-bedroom home in a “mice” area, four Siamese “kitchens” and three “Datsun” dogs.

But the winner was spotted by Mojo Gledhill of Monrovia in a weekly newspaper. It was a Port-a-Potty ad that contained an unfortunate abbreviation.

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A PROMISE OF PAIN? Laurence Lerner of San Bernardino photographed a sign that seemed to warn of an unpleasant experience for customers daring enough to enter.

Unless the shop catered exclusively to masochists.

Of course, it could have been a shop operated by an acupuncturist. Or perhaps the seat of a new religion. In Southern California, you never know.

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THE PERSONAL TOUCH: In the People’s Republic of Santa Monica, Walter Renzi took a picture of a vehicle that had some defective equipment, according to a notation on the rear window of the van. The driver wrote that he was reverting to the old-fashioned method of using hand signals.

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ANTS IN YOUR PANTS ARE ONE THING. . . . : As 1997 approached its end, talk about an invasion of killer bees seemed to have waned.

Unfortunately, Cyndi Gould came across a flier indicating that a new menace was threatening the Southland--a type of meat-eating trousers.