As we've pointed out before, the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and the street lamps along that road are illuminated by feeble attempts at self-improvement. The cold, harsh reality is that sometimes doing the right thing doesn't necessarily pay off. For example ...
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A group of Christian Scientists found the ideal plot of land for their church. Only one thing stood in the way: a beautiful old oak tree. You know how this story goes: Never let nature get in the way of progress. Besides, if stupid trees are so great, then why did they allow themselves to be used to build the cross that Christ was crucified on, huh? But here the expected story takes a twist, and instead of calling the ancient wonder of nature mere collateral damage in the war for your very soul, the Christian Scientists redid the entire building to work around the tree.
Christian Science Dixon
It's an idea so heartwarming that the blueprints were actually drafted by puppies and kittens.
The church members avoided a possible local backlash, respected the sanctity of the old tree, and at the same time created an environmentally friendly building that warms naturally in the winter without any costly heating. What's not to love?
Here's what the building looks like from the sky, via Google Earth:
"No, it's uh ... a 'J' ... for 'Jesus' ... yeah."
The aerial image of the Church of the Flaccid Cock went viral on the Internet after it was discovered by a local resident. To add to the hilarity, the church is located in "Dixon, Illinois." And the church's motto? "Rising up."
Proving once and for all that, if there is a God, he's definitely a Cracked reader.
"And lo, the Lord has revealed unto us the 10 Most Holy of Dick Jokes."
As for the church, they've taken the whole thing in good humor, insisting that any resemblance to the male anatomy is coincidental, and that they're planning on installing a "giant fig leaf." But how many times can you be called "the dickchurch" before some of that goodwill starts to dissipate? Truly, the Lord tests us all.
Godfrey Smith was a volunteer first responder in Britain for 15 years. He even cut down his hours at his paying job in order to spend more time (up to 50 hours a week) on his real passion: saving lives for free. So when he got a call about an area man who was having trouble breathing, he strapped on his superhero codpiece, got behind the wheel, and raced to action.
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"Dispatch? Yeah, he's wearing ... it again. Please advise."
Racing, even to action -- even to save a life -- is frowned upon. Smith discovered that little fact after his latest rescue, when he learned that he'd been fired for speeding.
We can understand how there might be two sides to the story of a volunteer worker overlooking the speed limit -- you don't want him endangering lives with his souped-up muscle car, rocketing about the city at breakneck speeds, no matter how noble his intentions may be -- but Smith wasn't some reckless speed freak. It turned out that his company had just installed a new GPS system in his car, and it was all kinds of dysfunctional. His satellite navigation system told him he was traveling at just above the speed limit, which was 30 mph, but in reality the limit was only 20 mph. Plus he drove around a traffic bollard rather than ... through it, we guess? A week later, the ambulance service gave him the bad news and he was unceremoniously let go for that one slip-up out of 2,000 successful calls. That's right: "Too fast, even for life-saving purposes" and "an unforgivable infraction, despite exemplary service" is doing a paltry 13 mph over the speed limit and driving around a glorified traffic cone. Just one more time: His total, completely reckless speed was a super-sonic 33 mph. You can exceed that on a bicycle if there's a particularly bitchin' hill, but not to save a life.
"Take your 'novelty sign' excuses elsewhere; failure to yield is failure to yield."
The absolute worst part? Much like Dante from Clerks, Smith wasn't even supposed to be there that day. He normally worked in a much smaller town that he was actually familiar with, but Oxford begged Smith to come help them instead, because they were crazy busy. Then fate put on its best ball-kickin' shoes, and the rest is history.
Australian mining company and possible Game of Thrones character Glencore Xstrata faced some very negative press after they accidentally ravaged a protected national park with a nearby mining operation. As understandably distraught as you can imagine a mining company would be over the loss of precious wilderness, the company did actually offer to repair the damage. And for once, they followed through! They sent a dozen concrete trucks to grout up cracks in a badly damaged ridge above a naturally flowing creek.
Just like nature intended.
Nobody was monitoring the trucks that were spewing tons of concrete onto the ridge, so nobody noticed that the concrete was flowing right back out again and pouring into the creek below, turning it into a long concrete sidewalk. It was 3 feet deep in some places.
Most creeks aren't quite this stand-on-able.
Australia's environment minister has vowed to force the company to undo the damage they caused in their attempt to undo the previous damage they caused, but like ... how? Is this going to get better when you give Slapstick Mining Co. permission to bring jackhammers into the forest? They should probably just cut their losses, admit that nature is totally fucked, and call it kind of a lame new skate park.