A giant bronze coil of feces is both a tribute to doggie defecation and a reminder to pick it up.

The palatial McDonald's that inspired Wesley Willis.

A Hungarian pharmacy museum with a box full of mummy powder.

Late at night, the bust of the "Dracula" actor was snuck onto the facade of this Budapest castle.

The twin towers in this Chicago fountain use 50 foot tall video screens to spit on people.

Rumored to be the famed pirate's lookout tower, this historic stone structure is now just watching for tourists.

A sharply wedged sundial marks the point at which each day in the United States begins.

The final resting place of one of the most sensational guitar players of all time was created only after his father got the rights to his music.

Twin Peaks' real life Double R Diner has been restored to its damn fine television look.

This semi-secret garden in south Seattle emulates a traditional Japanese garden using the plants of the Pacific Northwest.

A huge musical sculpture and other art installations on the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration grounds.

A museum dedicated to the history and exploration of both popular music and science fiction.

An old vending machine serves up unpredictable beverages from its seemingly magical insides.

A Seattle oddities shop brimming with Victorian-era gems and antique curio.

A 100-year-old purveyor of curiosities, curios, and kitsch featuring mummies, shrunken heads, and a Fiji Mermaid.

A wall of chewing gum moonlights as collective art.

This working class sculpture pounds his hammer all the livelong day.

While not recognized by Guinness, this chocolate waterfall is likely to be the world's largest.

A suburban street in Anchorage doubles as a runway, and each home has its own airplane hangar.

A high school astronomy enthusiast designed this model of our solar system to be traversed on foot.

An Alaska livestock farm devotes itself to harvesting wool from creatures that once ran with mammoths and sabertooth tigers.

Colorful boxes placed over the dead are left to rot and crumble.

New York City's smallest piece of private property.

A dark patch of the ceiling at Grand Central Terminal which was not restored is still stained brown by tobacco.