I was driving home from trivia last night—it’s a good way to relax my brain after spending a couple hours learning about stuff like strategic management—and as I rounded the corner onto my street, my headlights revealed something that was… unexpected. On the far side of the entrance into a park, there was a sign stuck into the ground advertising some company called Mosquito Hunter: “Get rid of mosquitoes!” It was bright white, placed right next to the entrance and impossible to miss. I disliked it immediately.
Some friends of mine, Marie and Michael “Porter” Porter, live in the area of north Minneapolis that got hit by a tornado last summer. Within a couple hours after their neighborhood was ravaged by Mother Nature, “vultures” were putting signs on people’s lawns to advertise repair services. They never asked anyone if it was okay to put them all over the neighborhood, they just did it. When Porter kicked one of the signs, it led to a very loud screaming match and, well, hearing that story left an impression on me about people who put signs where they don’t belong.
I pulled into my driveway, walked into the house, then asked my parents if people are legally allowed to post signs on public property like that. Neither of them thought so, but they weren’t sure. I decided to double-check, so I started surfing around on Google until I found a state statute that addressed advertising signs on public property.
Minnesota Statute 173.08 EXCLUDED ROAD ADVERTISING DEVICES, Subd. 2. Advertising devices prohibited. No advertising shall be erected or maintained:
(1) in or within 500 feet of national parks, state parks, local parks, historical sites, and public picnic or rest areas…
The sign was placed in a local park, which is prohibited (and pretty indicative of someone being a douchebag, too). I honestly wonder what the penalty is for posting advertising illegally like that, but I probably won’t get to find out: as soon as I found that statute, I went outside, walked down the street, plucked the sign out of the ground and brought it home. Part of me wanted to just toss it in the park’s dumpster, but I opted against it for two reasons.
First, the Mosquito Hunter might go dumpster diving and find it again. Second, I might be able to use the sign myself. Not just to cover it up and write something else, mind you. No, I could call the phone number on it and hold the sign hostage: “Gimme ten bucks or I start bending metal rods!!!” (And before any of you start getting judgmental, just remember that I saved him from a fine by taking the sign—he already owes me.)
