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Re: OT:Christianity

Celaeno
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SubjectRe: OT:Christianity
FromCelaeno
Date2002-05-11 01:42 (2002-05-11 01:42)
Message-ID<3cdbf01e.11462902@news.world-online.no>
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Newsgroupsalt.fan.tolkien,rec.arts.books.tolkien
Follows?jevind L?ng
You will not evade me, "?jevind L?ng" <ojevind.lang@swipnet.se>:

?jevind L?ng
Mirabella wrote:

Mirabella
Alatar <everlearning@hotmail.com>wrote in message news:ab8ma7$ku0$1@news7.svr.pol.co.uk...

?jevind L?ng
[snip]

Alatar
I made the JW blacklist purely by reputation :o)

Mirabella
Lucky you. I had to swear big time, to get myself blacklisted. Being polite certainly didn't cut it.

?jevind L?ng
Stare at them and say you are a Buddhist. That does the trick too. Of course, if they are so fearless they say they want to discuss Buddha with you, slam the door. As you point out, polite is the last thing one should be with them. They take that as encouragement.

I thought about suggesting to say you were a Buddhist and pretend to try to convert *them*, when I remembered this post I found on alt.humor.best-of-usenet: ---------------------- Subject: Re: How to Get Rid of JW callers From: raven@solaria.sol.net (Raven) Newsgroups: alt.fan.cecil-adams

"Kim" <kimp@NOSPAMfamily-net.org>quoted:

Neighbour returned Witnesses' cold call

BY ADAM FRESCO

A MOTHER of three children became so fed up with Jehovah's Witnesses calling at her home....

In Kalamazoo, Michigan, stands a household of SCA folk called Ironhold, decorated with many medievalist items, whose denizens have been known to wear VERY old-fashioned garb, even mundanely. Nice people, with utterly wicked senses of humor.

House Ironhold also apparently stands on a heavily used route for door-to-door evangelists, particularly Jehovah's Witnesses.

As you might expect, the residents have developed ROUTINES.

I tell the tales that I've heard told. (I vouch for nothing here.)

If the lady of the house answers the door, she is likely in her long dark gown and robes... holding her cat, and stroking it all the while the door is open. They (the lady and the cat) stare at the missionary, silently, patiently, during the missionary's spiel. At last the lady turns her head slightly to call upstairs: "Dear -- I think the virgin sacrifice has arrived!" This is the cue for a long dagger to come spinning down the stairwell and stick point-first in the floor....

If the lord of the house answers the door, it is by swinging the door suddenly open just enough to stick his face out into the missionary's and say, "YES?!" Should the missionary linger, he/she is invited inside to sit in a chair next to a bookshelf crowded with books. Eventually the missionary is bound to notice the common theme of the books, which is bloody awful... I mean, bloody AND awful... and selected for that very purpose, to give the impression of unwholesome predilections. The missionary stands to go, pushing (as most people must) on the arms of the chair... which is so designed that the chair collapses behind the standing person when the arms are pushed and the weight on the seat is removed. The missionary tends not to linger upon farewells.

One friend of mine had never been there before, but travelled by bus to Kalamazoo for an SCA event, where (by phone) arrangements had been made for him to stay overnight at Ironhold. Two things only you need know about my friend Dan: (1) he was in the process of "knitting" a chainmail shirt by winding 16-gauge wire on a rod, cutting the helix into rings, and linking the rings into mesh (transporting the works in Pringles cans and "knitting" on the bus); (2) he was twenty-ish, blond, clean-cut, and looked like a stereotypical young missionary.

Dan _had_ heard the stories. He arrived at Ironhold's front door, rang the doorbell, and when Lord Einar answered with a "YES?!", Dan went into his best huckster's spiel: "GOOD morning, sir, I'm working my way through college selling [waves a square-foot swatch] CHAINMAIL!" The lord of the house fell over backwards laughing.

Well. Maybe you had to be there.

Another story, set somewhere else WITH someone else, features a burly SCA fighter on his way from one place to another, when he is accosted by two Hare Krishnas in their saffron robes and their shaven heads and their beads all jingle-jangle, who offer him a ticket to a **free** vegetarian dinner, with a talk on Hare Krishna.

How to refuse? "Well, gee, I don't know...."

"Oh, but sir, it will be a delicious free vegetarian dinner, and a FASCINATING talk on Hare Krishna!"

When all else fails, play dumb. "Will there be po-tay-to salad?"

Blink. They look at each other. They look at him. "Well... no... but it will be a del-"

He grabs each one by the robe at the neck, lifts, and shakes them while he bellows in rage: "I want po-tay-to salad! I WANT PO-TAY-TO SALAD!"

He then drops them, and -- WHISH! -- they scurry off.

The story is told and re-told through the SCA's grapevine. Some weeks later, another burly SCA fighter in another city is accosted by two Hare Krishnas in their saffron robes and their shaven heads and their beads all jingle-jangle, who offer him a ticket to a free vegetarian dinner with a talk on Hare Krishna. He pouts and frowns in puzzlement.

"Well, gee, I don't know. Will there be po-tay-to salad?"

WHISH!

(It appears that Hare Krishnas have a grapevine too.) -----------------

Cel the sound of three hands clapping