So I was driving into Manhattan yesterday, approaching the Midtown Tunnel, minding my own business, and making my way past the barrage of billboards that thickens as you slow down. Actually, slow is an optimistic word here. Depending on the time of day, or funky traffic conditions, you could easily devote an hour to sitting still, under quiet billboard assault.
I'd just cleared the towering Larry Flynt Hustler Club sign featuring a woman wearing a lot of lip liner and what...
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