This Time He Brought His Wife

My response to the second appearance of Jehova's Witnesses at my door was the same. Receive the book and offer to "have a glance." I let him know I'm involved in a church and doing well, as he slowly boxes me up and files me under "Christian." They probably didn't expect a relatively upstanding 22-year who will patiently stand there and humble them.

We all know he's probably waiting for an argument (or a life-long commitment), armed with a briefcase filled with underlined texts that will swiftly answer my predictable questions. Academically, I'm not armed to go head-to-head, nor am I inspired to take that role of confrontation (Pete and Jason did this once, and I applaud them).

Still, rather than slam the door, politely hush him, or begin an argument (which seems a futile alternative to just briefly giving them the stage), I've decided to spend 5 minutes listening, treat them as people (though they might treat me as a number, a stereotype, I don't know), and resemble a posture of "I've heard you" and "thanks."

I'm not gonna duct tape my doorbell to stop you from coming around again. Whatever.

OR.

I could use the footage that Kevin used in Home Alone the next time J.W. comes around:

Gangster 'Johnny': Who is it?
J.Dubs: It's Jehova's Witnesses, we've come
to drop off an interesting book for you!
Gangster 'Johnny': Leave it at the
doorstep and get the hell 'outta here.
J.Dubs: Well, I'll just leave it here
on the doorstep, then.
Gangster 'Johnny': Keep the change, ya filthy animal.
J.Dubs: Sorry, what?
Gangster 'Johnny': Hey, I'm gonna give
you to the count o' ten, to get your ugly, yellow, no good keister of
my property, before I pump your guts full of lead...

1...
2...
10!