I had made a valiant effort to get my tiny municipality to do something about the deadly potholes forming and deepening on my street. All my neighbors had lodged multiple complaints. We had left messages. We talked to every official who would admit to a title. I was about to give up and give in to despair.
Then I heard about the Manger scene (the old Christmas stand-by, Mary, Joseph, animals, shepherds, ETC.) that got torn down from a state park in Northern California. Apparently, ONE very unhappy person wanted to spread their X-mas misery and lodged ONE COMPLAINT. The scene was taken down in less than 48 hours.
So I thought what anyone would think: Set up a Manger scene in one of the pot holes. The biggest of them could feature a pretty good sized group of shepherds and such. Then I'll call city hall and wail about how my right to despise religion was being infringed upon by the unholy holiness. They'd rush right out and turn the offending pothole into road. It had to work.
Of course, on the surface of it, the whole idea of the Savior of a large percentage of my countrymen at the bottom of an asphalt death trap seemed disrespectful. But his was a call to action, was it not? In his life, was he not a thorn in the side of government officials? Does his voice not cry out through the generations against oppression?
I don't know if it speaks well of me or not, but I couldn't go through with it.
I spit in one of the pot holes as I swerved around it on my bike; but the wise men from my government never came.