Facebook Group Declares AI the Devil’s Work

Act I: The Meme That Broke the Camel’s Back

Sequatchie Crossing has never been the same since someone figured out how to upload memes to the town’s unofficial-but-unquestionably-official Facebook group.

Last Monday, at precisely 7:13 a.m., Boot Barnes—local busybody and part-time conspiracy historian—posted a meme of Sheriff Peeler. The image showed him cradling a skillet, angel wings glowing behind him, with a caption in heavenly gold letters:

“Blessed Are the Biscuit-Makers, For They Shall Inherit the Bake Sale.”

Reactions came fast:

• Mabel Dean Ashcroft clicked “angry face” three times before realizing you can only do it once.

• Clovis Strickland, wearing his trademark foil crown in his profile picture, declared: “This here’s artificial witchcraft. Them pixels got spirits in ’em.”

• Pastor Gentry typed out a three-paragraph theological warning, only to be auto-flagged by Facebook for “spam-like content.”

Within the hour, the Holier-Than-Thou Committee called an emergency Zoom meeting. (Boot insisted it be in person, but the Fellowship Hall was already booked for “Intermediate Pickleball.”)

Act II: The Committee’s Righteous Stand

“This is bigger than Photoshop,” Mabel Dean announced, clipboard propped against her coffee mug. “This is the devil whispering in zeroes and ones.”

“Zeros and ones are binary,” muttered Trixie Jo Bartlett from the back. “Not evil. Just math.”

“Math is just sorcery with numbers,” Clovis retorted, nodding as though he’d nailed the coffin shut on the argument.

By vote of three raised hands (and one paw from Daisy the hound, who wandered in after smelling cornbread), the Committee declared that all AI-generated content was hereby banned from the town’s Facebook group.

They even drafted a list of signs to watch for:

1. Text that looks too smooth to be true.

2. Images where Sheriff Peeler’s hairline seems fuller than real life.

3. Posts that spell “Sequatchie” correctly on the first try.

Boot read the list aloud, shaking his head gravely. “We’ve been infiltrated.”

Act III: The Bake Sale Betrayal

But here’s the trouble with bans in Sequatchie Crossing: enforcement.

On Wednesday, the group’s events page proudly announced: “St. Luke’s Bake Sale—This Saturday, 9:00 a.m. – 3:00 p.m. Pecan pies encouraged.”

“Who posted that?” demanded Mabel Dean.

Nobody had. The auto-reply bot had taken care of it, like it had been doing for years.

“That ain’t AI,” argued Trixie Jo, pointing at her phone. “That’s just automation.”

“What’s the difference?” asked Mrs. Calloway, carrying in a tray of potato salad that nobody had requested.

“Difference is whether we like it,” Boot muttered.

The revelation caused half the group to panic. Clovis insisted they cancel the bake sale until they could “purify” the post. Mabel Dean argued you can’t just cancel baked goods, not in Sequatchie. Sheriff Peeler compromised: “Let’s call it ‘divinely scheduled.’”

Act IV: Outsiders Stir the Pot

Word of the anti-AI decree spread beyond the valley. Outsiders from Dunlap and even Jasper screenshotted the group and mocked it on bigger platforms.

“Selective outrage is their local currency,” one post read. “They’ll ban AI memes but still let an algorithm remind them when to bring coleslaw.”

Sequatchie locals were unmoved. “Sarcasm’s an outsider’s sin,” Boot reminded everyone, and the moderators promptly added “no outsider sarcasm” to the group rules, right under “no yard sales after 9 p.m.”

Meanwhile, teenagers at Sequatchie High made their own parody group—Sequatchie Crossing: AI Edition. It instantly became more popular than the original, running on nothing but meme generators and AI image mashups of Daisy dressed as George Washington.

Act V: Daisy the Moderator

The final straw came Friday night when two threads collided—one about whether AI was rewriting scripture, the other about whether the Little League hot dog stand was out of onions.

Tempers flared. The comment section filled with ALL CAPS, Bible verses, and a GIF of Boot shaking his head. The group was at risk of imploding.

Then Daisy the hound—who had accidentally stepped on Sheriff Peeler’s iPad—posted a single, blurry paw-print emoji.

The group went silent.

“Divine intervention,” Mabel Dean whispered.

“Doggone wisdom,” added Clovis.

In a unanimous vote, Daisy was appointed Moderator Emeritus. Her duties: nap under the porch, bark at passing UPS trucks, and occasionally delete posts by rolling on the tablet.

Epilogue: The Scroll of Irony

By Saturday morning, the Holier-Than-Thou Committee was proudly promoting its bake sale—thanks again to the auto-reply system they swore wasn’t AI.

The announcements rolled on:

• “Choir Practice Rescheduled” (auto-generated).

• “Pinewood Derby Heat #2 at 6:00 p.m.” (auto-generated).

• “Please Limit Your Yard Signs” (auto-generated).

Boot looked at his phone, frowning. “I guess the devil sure does keep a tidy calendar.”

Daisy barked once and went back to sleep. The group took it as approval.

And so the verdict was sealed: in Sequatchie Crossing, AI may still be the devil’s work… but if it remembers your pecan pies, you keep it around anyway.

⚠️ Disclaimer

Sequatchie Crossing Dispatch stories are works of satire, parody, and local color. While inspired by the rhythms of small-town life, no event described should be mistaken for literal fact. Characters such as Sheriff Peeler, Mabel Dean, Clovis Strickland, Boot Barnes, and Daisy the hound exist only within the fictional world of Sequatchie Crossing.

These stories are intended to entertain, amuse, and sometimes poke gentle fun at the quirks of community living. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or otherwise, is purely coincidental (unless your dog really is running a Facebook group—then we want to hear about it).

Real Places Behind the Ruckus – From The Dunlap Directory

Real Places Behind the Ruckus – From The Dunlap Directory

Yes, this story was fictional; even the parts that weren’t true. These places? Absolutely real. Stop by, support local, and keep the Wi-Fi away from livestock:

• HUBNER Component Solutions LLC
• Jason Lewis’ Dunlap SuperCenter
• Rigsby Farm Equipment
• Switchgrass Farm
• Legacy Ridge Farms
• Chattanooga VIP Tours
• Big Valley Air
• Coops Creek Commons
• Dunlap TENNESSEE For Free/Giveaway
• Dunlap Iron & Metals
• Buy, and Sale in Crossville, Pikeville, Dunlap, Cookeville TN
• JM Lawncare
• Bigfoot Adventure TN Zipline
• Greer’s Family Dentistry

Real Places Behind the Ruckus – From The Dunlap Directory

At Sequatchie Crossing, we tell the stories of Sequatchie Crossing.

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