It was Plato who said, “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a harder battle.”

      A once vibrant strip mall from the 60s is now a forgotten destination from the past among empty storefronts with for lease signs taped on the cracked windows landscaped by crushed cans, torn awnings and urine stains on the crumbling asphalt.

     In the middle of this neglected community of scarred stucco and tan brick are the remains of broken washed-out plastic blue letters spelling H O L L Y W O O D with the word “Club” hand-painted next to it in black over the sun stained imprints from the word V I D E O left behind.

     Below a diverse cross-section of emotionally wounded urban nomads are lured to the blackened glass doors nervously smoking their cigarettes as they wait for them to be opened.

      These lost souls have learned first-hand that one misstep can lead you back to the devil’s doorstep of the Hollywood Club where the journeys of the strange are welcomed.

In the valley of the Allegheny Mountains, you will find a hunter's paradise and a fisherman's retreat where hardworking folk understands the value of red, white, and blue justice. And where you will find,

The Accordion Player. 



"Praise Jesus, is that horse dead or what?"



A creative journey in the outrageous world of advertising. 

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