Everywhere the big dog goes, he leaves his little sign
Alerting all the other dogs, “This property is mine!”
“This is mine, and this is mine, and this and this and this!”
He makes a claim of ownership, and seals it with a piss
He roams the streets and alleyways, and all around the town
He leaves his little messages, in yellow or in brown
He’s never paid a mortgage on the land he claims as his
He doesn’t pay the taxes; all he does is take a whizz
There are signs at every crossroads, half a dozen at the mall,
In the yards of private citizens, and one at City Hall—
These little signs are adding up, with more and more each day
But whenever I complain, they tell me “look the other way”
Take a look–Searcy, Arkansas has a dog problem. No, a God problem–I always get those two mixed up. There’s been a big God sniffing around and marking His territory all over town:
Seriously, those little white crosses are aesthetically crap–they must cost the church well under a buck apiece to make, they are not imaginative, nor artistic, nor historical, nor anything but tacky little ways for this God to mark its territory.
Around Cuttletown, there are people who post signs at intersections, advertising goods or services… and there are other folks who mark these signs with large, obscuring stickers that label the signs “LITTER” (which, legally, they are). The little white crosses, if placed on one’s own property, are nothing more than a sign of your tolerance for the tacky, a Christian equivalent of a plastic flamingo or ceramic garden gnome, but cheaper. If they are a sign of your faith, the sign’s message is “I love Jesus, but not enough to spend any money on Him–just enough to put up a tacky cross everyone knows they give out for free.”
No, the crosses serve no function other than that of a dog’s urine: they say “I’m the god (or dog) in charge here.” And the sheriff of Searcy rolls over and exposes his neck to appease the church, instead of picking the litter up off of the lawn and throwing it away.
Around here, a small cross on the roadside marks the site of a traffic fatality.
Here, too, but these are different–you can see how cheap they are in the video. Of course, even the memorial crosses by the roadsides here are cheap compared to the roadside shrines you see everywhere in Greece!
The message they think they are displaying is, I’m an Oogedy Boogedy xian.
They message many see is, “I am a moron”.
PS Isn’t this the Mark of the Beast from Revelation? Or the lamb’s blood on the lintel to keep their monster god from killing their first born son. Or did I get my mythology confused?
But… but you try nailing someone to dog piss and see how successful you are.
I notice that the defenders of these crosses are portraying the issue as a battle against meddlers from out of state. In the absence of any legitimate constitutional arguments, they go straight for an “us vs. them” emotional appeal.
Of course, the FFRF would not have known about the litter, had some local person not informed them. The fact that the Sheriff does not want to enforce the law indicates that perhaps this local person had good reason to enlist help from out of town.
I think I see a cuttlefish
He’s using his own ink
Perhaps a ‘she’ instead it is
I don’t know what to think
No matter, rhyme and meter flow
In such a merry dance
Though others (me) try to compete
We haven’t got a chance
Aw….
That thing about territory?
An old wive’s tale.
The mutt’s really sending
His pal a wee-mail.