Little CO2 Emissions on the Prairie

Maybe it's just a Missouri thing, but it feels like no matter where I'm driving, if I'm on a highway I'm surrounded by those "Prairie Rehab" signs.
If you're unfamiliar, "Prairie Rehab" signs are just your average metallic, round-cornered road signs with the words "Prairie Rehab" deceptively printed on an earthy brown background. They are typically found where the grass has begun to reach human height, and often in mounds of dirt that are surrounded by interstate on all sides.

... So in other words, the Missouri translation of "Prairie Rehab" is: "We ain't trimming this $#!%". I imagine that when given their budget and faced with the choice between printing a metal sign and paying a friendly lawn-mowing person to make it look decent once a month, that official thought "eh, we'll go with the chunk of metal" and signed the order to slap'em up there.
Now, let's be real, Missouri. You CANNOT tell me you are going to call these grass-wads "rehabbed prairie" unless you have legitimate hopes that someday some wild buffalo will return to inhabit that 4foot patch of dirt and highway trash just inches from the interstate.
     -What's that? No highway buffalo, you say? -I suspected as much. Now just admit that you're too cheap and lazy to cut your own grass, and stop trying to pull the wool over our eyes with this phony "rehab" nonsense!

I think the idea of "Prairie Rehab" is that the city hopes we will see it, but not think about it too hard. Like, whatever city official put it up must have hoped that you would sorta glance at these signs from the corner of your eye, and then your subconscious would slowly begin to think "hey, my government gives out free rehab! I should go do my civic duty!" somehow without considering the fact that this rehab is for dirt, and not people. That official pictures you swelling with patriotic pride, and riding off into the sunset to finally start repaying your debts to society. You'll step out of your car after passing that "Prairie Rehab" sign and valiantly go... pay a tax.... or... stop smashing bottles on playgrounds....
Heck, I don't know what you do, I'm barely an adult.

(Personally, I harbor the secret hope that the government knows something we don't about the future of transportation, and in a few years, upon the advent of an age of teleportation, people will start going nuts about all the space wasted on parking lots and intersates, but the government will just whip around like "HA! WE'VE BEEN PREPARING THE PRAIRIELANDS FOR YEARS!!" and then there really WILL be buffalo on the interstate, and the previous paragraphs in this post will make me look very silly.
I think it's good to hold on to some faith in your governing body, even if it's based solely upon the fact that they may or may not be able to teleport at some unappointed time in the future.)

~Ali

My dog is fluffy
My kitty cat is snuggly
Those are not their names