BEARDSTOWN, ILLINOIS- On Friday, the city council voted 6 to 1 in favor of placing a pair of mysterious stone tablets in the courthouse square. According to legend, this fused pair of quarter ton granite slabs is covered in strange writing, presumably some sort of spell, that grants it the power to protect the town from common evils such as "street crime, homosexuality, and dancing."

At first many in the town were skeptical that these "Ten Commandments" carried such powers, but Rev. Shaw Moore convinced them all during last week's public hearing on the issue. Moore presented a full-color chart illustrating social trends since the tablets were removed in 1959 to make way for an indoor restroom. Beginning in 1960, the line representing the "Society Going to Hell Index" rose sharply, going off the edge of the chart by the beginning of the Clinton administration in 1993.

"As you can see, since the Commandments were removed from the square, violent crime has skyrocketed and general immorality, well, I don't think any of us need convincing of that."

Moore also pointed out that "Gary" moved to Beardstown in the intervening years. "Everyone knows about Gary, right? I don't have to actually say it, do I?"

Surprisingly, not all Beardstonians approve of the idea, claiming that the move amounts to an endorsement of a single faith. Mayor Chip Dooley says nothing could be further from the truth.

"I can't see how people can say that the monument is insensitive to non-Christian faiths- even the Catholics like it," says Dooley. "Can't you see those little Jewish Stars at the bottom? They love that stuff, sometimes wear it on their clothes and whatnot.

"The only conclusion I can come to is that they're in favor of immorality and lawlessness. In which case, I hope a mob of concerned citizens burns their houses down."

The idea reportedly came from Cass County GOP chairman Jim "Boss" Tweed, who also appears to be selling the enchanted stones for use in several other Central Illinois communities. With rural economies all over the state unraveling in advance of city elections this fall, conservatives are scrambling for a popular solution. When it comes to modern municipal political woes, Tweed says "take two tablets and call me in the morning."

Still, there are some who say the tablets, magical as they may be, aren't Constitutional in the strictest sense. Area lawyers say that it would only take one person with an attitude problem to cause the whole civil defense initiative to collapse.

To this end, the town constable has preemptively jailed Ren McCormack, the new kid from the big city with dangerous ideas and amorous intentions toward Reverend Moore's daughter.

Supporters say the tablets will defend the town from immorality and crime. Yet voodoo practitioners argue that their proposal for a 10 foot high display of bloody rags and chicken bones would similarly protect the town from evil spirits but was summarily rejected by the city council last year on the grounds that it would be unsanitary.

Though talk of a discrimination lawsuit gathered momentum late last week, representatives of the local Voodoo sect now say they're okay with the decision. Activist Marie Lavieu says that after a series of discussions with city officials and a pair of midnight visits from the Klu Klux Koffee Klatch and Aryan Welcome Wagon, she and her group are much more civic-minded about the issue.

"Protestant Christians are the majority in Beardstown, so they win," says Lavieu. "That's what democratic religious freedom is all about."