I arrived at the church this morning to the sight of our marquee sign, you know the tacky rental kind, stripped devoid of it’s letters; some broken, some stolen, some just clinging to their tracks. It could have been worse. Last time they rearranged the letters to read “JESUS SMOKES CRACK”. I may have done this kind of thing when I was a kid, if not for the fear of my parents catching me. And they ALWAYS did; stealth was never one of my gifts. Guess we’ll have to leave Gus the Rottweillor tied to the sign for the next few weeks.