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This archival content was written, edited, and published prior to LAist's acquisition by its current owner, Southern California Public Radio ("SCPR"). Content, such as language choice and subject matter, in archival articles therefore may not align with SCPR's current editorial standards. To learn more about those standards and why we make this distinction, please click here.

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Storefront Art: Driving Back Into Town Edition

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We're thankful for so many things. Really. The only thing we had cause for regret rather than thanks this weekend was the fact that we missed seeing Alice Cooper run into our neighborhood grocery store for some spare cranberry sauce on Thanksgiving Day. Man, that would have been so cool.

But like tons of other folks, we skipped town in order to visit family. And a great visit it was. Not only did we see family, but also lots of football, hilarious saggy Garfields (that was apparently not caused by any helium shortage), plenty of Yahtzees, and some exotica called "icicles" by the natives. We were thankful for all of that, but perhaps we were most thankful for The Mad Greek.

You know the Mad Greek. It's that place that you see the billboards for on the I-15 on the way back from Vegas, when you're tired and hungry and really not wanting a buffet meal in Primm. That place that lies, telling you "60 Miles To The Mad Greek!" when in reality you are more like 80 miles away, when every mile counts on that slow, slow drive. "An hour to dinner!" you say, forgetting that it is actually nearly two hours to Baker from Vegas. Nearly an hour to those delicious date shakes and fried zucchini. Nearly an hour to the mysterious hooked nose characters on the sign with the oddly jointed hips and colorful shorts/skirts/penis flags. Nearly an hour to delicious gyros, and tzatziki sauce, and .... oh wait! Here it is! We're here! And in a couple of hours after we eat our delicious meal we'll be home. Thank you, Whatever. Thank you very much.

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