> The center post was cut all the way through. The outer posts were each cut more than two thirds through. The great sign rested mostly on its own weight, preca

> The center post was cut all the way through. The outer posts were each cut more than two thirds through. The great sign rested mostly on its own weight, precariously balanced. A south breeze would make it totter. A child could push it over. Within its gravitational time-space continuum, the billboard’s destiny was predetermined, beyond appeal. The arc of its return to earth could have been computed to within a tolerance of three millimeters. They savored the moment. The intrinsic virtues of free and worthy enterprise. The ghost of Sam Gompers smiled upon their labors. “Push it over,” he said. “You,” she said. “You did most of the work.” “It’s your birthday.” -Monkey Wrench Gang