Unga-Bunga-Bunga-G

What a sight it was, exiting the elevator to be greeted by this fellow. I'm sure to the indigenous people of Pottery Barn he's the god of unionized morning coffee breaks, but to me he was just another piece of the flotsam and jetsam which washes up on the shores of the Dark (in)Continent that is my buildings parking garage... In the indecipherable words of Flavor-Flav, Unga Bunga Bunga G..!