Parks and Rex: The roadside dinosaur of St. Petersburg, Florida

 There's some nice patio work behind this fellow but now it's going to seed.

 Not sure what this hole is for, unless this guy was mechanical and needed some maintenance.

 Zoned C-2...that must mean large concrete dinosaur mascot allowed.

 We are family...I've got all my sisters with me.

There's friendly green roadside greeter along 66th Street in St. Petersburg, Florida, just waiting for someone to adopt him. We're a little uncertain how this coelurosaurian theropod wound up in this spot...perhaps he was a hold-over mascot from a mini golf course or other fun venue, but he appears to have last been employed by the Florida Brick and Paver Company, who apparently pave no more here, as the "For Lease" notice covering their sign would indicate. Could this happy green fellow be going, well, the way of the dinosaur? Let's hope not because he is a delight to behold, with his intricate scale work and cheerful toothless grin, not to mention the large, white cartoony bone he appears to be using as a jaunty walking cane. Perhaps if someone leases the property, the owners will thrown him in at no extra cost...wouldn't that be an enticement? Whatever business moves in would certainly get our patronage for keeping such a sight for 'saur eyes.

Optimistic marquee of the week

I know this sign probably refers to financing of some sort, but wouldn't it be nice if everybody approved of everybody else?

Keeping it reel: The Ruskin Family Drive-In of Ruskin, Florida

How cool would it be to live in that mobile home next to the drive-in?

 Keeping it alive...we like the sound of that.

 They're proud of their 2000 square-foot screen, and who can blame them?

 Thank you, and please come again.

 I believe this is clue that Paul is dead.

All this and a Beloved Drive-In Theatre Cat, too? We liked this place before, but now we love it.

I had a ModBetty moment while driving down the Tamiami Trail (Route 41) in the western part of my new home state of Florida recently. She's the hostess with the mostess of fun retro places to visit at her groovy website Retro Roadmap and the Ruskin Family Drive-In theater has her name written all over it. It's a place that's been around since 1952 (the first movie they screened was "Singin' in the Rain", for crying out loud) and they're still open year round, rain or shine, hot or cold, including holidays. If that isn't dedication to the glorious retro tradition of drive-in movie theaters, we'll eat our pork pie hats. Here's a little something from their website (a website for a drive-in?, now that's a paradox):

"We call it the “Last family drive-in” in the U.S.A. because families, dating couples, single parents with children and everyone else young and old can come and visit.  We had family values when family values were the rule.  We still have family values although by some we’re not considered cool."

Not considered cool? What are you, nuts?...nothing could be cooler. Movie memorabilia fans should take note of the fact that they sell off their old movie posters at the bargain price of $5, so if you're in the market for a "Hunger Games," "Madea Christmas" or "Wolverine" placard, check them out. This money and the snack bar profits go to support their digital projector, a rarity among drive-ins.

Thank you, Ruskin Family Drive-In, for keeping the flame, or flick in this case, burning brightly in the great state of Florida.

You want a bite of this? No thanks, I'm stuffed: Linger Lodge — Bradenton, Florida's taxidermy-themed restaurant

 Inside this Old Florida-looking locale awaits one of the Top 5 Weirdest Restaurants in America...

 ...and if you don't agree, take it up with Al Roker.

 This distinguished elderly gentleman greets you at the door...

Old and very fragile? Sounds like the results from my last physical.

 Not every restaurant spells their name out in a snake font...

 ...made of real snakes.

 They got lots of them all around...

 ...including this fellow with venom 30 times more potent than a rattlesnake's. Suck it, rattlesnake!

 It 's all fun and games until a gator starts chewing on a man's leg...

 ...and I don't believe I've ever seen a stuffed boar's butt mounted on the walls of the Olive Garden.

 They've got alligator on the menu and I'm guessing it tastes like chicken...

 ...I opted for the yummy fish and chips instead.

 The lodge sits on the beautiful Braden River...

 ...in all its glory.

 They're fond of stuffed squirrels playing sports like baseball...

 ...basketball...

 ...and golf. That's nuts!

 And for readers of The Weekly World News, there's a jackalope...

 ...Alaskan fur fish...

 ...and blue-billed ortholock.

 Not quite sure what the connection to JFK is, but, okay.

Tip your waitress!

As mentioned in our previous post, the eccentric roadside wonders of Bradenton, Florida are plentiful, indeed. As if a vintage Mister Donut shop, a Uniroyal Gal and a manatee on every corner aren't enough, the "friendly city," as it's known, boasts a strange and glorious throwback to Florida tourist attractions of days gone by in the Linger Lodge, an RV park and restaurant on the beautiful Braden River in the east part of town. It started out as a campground in 1945 and in 1968 a Mr. Frank Gamsky, an amateur taxidermist, and his wife Elaine bought the place and added eccentricity to its ambiance by filling the walls and rooms with stuffed native animals, including snakes, bobcats, turtles, alligators, bears, fox and fish, all glaring at you while you enjoy your frog legs, alligator chowder and other less challenging traditional Southern dishes. There are also whimsical creatures such as jackolopes and Alaskan fur fish, and demented stuffed squirrels making golf shots and throwing hoops. This would not be the place to hold the next monthly PETA board of directors meeting, to say the least, but the food I ordered (fish and chips) was really good and the atmosphere was fun in a ghastly sort of way — I felt like I was dining in the corridor between a natural history museum and a novelty store. The Lodge's current owners put the place up for sale last fall, with plans to perhaps sell the restaurant separately from the adjacent RV park.  Let's hope the new owners treat the place with the same reverence for jaw-dropping Old Florida anything-goes ambiance as every owner has before. After all, no one likes a stuffed shirt.

Hut damn! Bradenton, Florida's Quonset hut Uniroyal Gal

Coming across a Uniroyal Gal is like seeing the leading lady from the deliciously awful 1958 sci-fi classic "Attack of the 50 Foot Woman." "Har-ry!..."

When Eccentric Roadside moved our world headquarters from Rhode Island to Bradenton, Florida, little did we know kismet was involved until we discovered there is one of those rarest of rare eccentric roadside attractions right here in town: a Uniroyal Gal, the Muffler Man's sultry female counterpart, created as an eye-catching Jackie Kennedy-esque roadside icon by the International Fiberglass company for Uniroyal back in 1966. There are only 12 or so of these beauties left that are still out in full view and we've been fortunate to have seen three before (click here) in such far-flung places as Blackfoot, Idaho, Blackwood, New Jersey and Unger, West Virginia, but we never dreamed there would be one right on own own home turf. This one is displayed in front of the Edmunds Metal Works Quonset hut. The hut has an imposing hand-painted sign on it that says "Powder Room: Total Custom Powder Coating". Across the way is another building with an old-timey sign that says "Gasoline Alley" on its side. This whole establishment looks like it would make a fine locale for one of those cable-TV shows about outrageous auto customization, with Miss Edmunds (or some other alias) as their fetching heroine. Compared to the other Uniroyal Gals we've seen, Miss Edmunds is rather au natural, with her sun-baked, worn complexion and scruffy, yellow bikini. Perhaps she's due for a make-over...now, there's a cable TV series we'd watch: "Uniroyal Gal Makeover." Of course, though, we know she's beautiful on the inside and that's what really counts.