Bagged a brace of Jehovah's Witnesses today, unfortunately, they escaped before I was able to convert them to the righteous path that is western scientific thought. Hopefully though, I did manage to share some small part of the joy that stems from the teachings of the great patriarchs (Newton, Darwin, Einstein, Popper, et al.); and hint at the everlasting light that shines on those of us lucky enough to embrace evolutionary theory and all that flows from it. Unfortunately though, I fear my attempt to draw them from the darkness may have failed as John (not his real name, I instantly forgot that) expressed the view that "the fossil record was the single biggest hoax of all time" and, following my effort to point out evolution in action, with reference to changes in beak morphology of Darwin's Finches, he uttered the truly wonderful repost "Yes,... but they're still finches aren't they". Well, there was nothing else for it, I had to concede that, yes, climatic changes on the Galapagos had not instantaneously turned finches into dragons.
One thing I do like to do, when visited by evangelical types, is to try and work out what it was that triggered their bizarre beliefs. It would appear that recovering alcoholics and heroine addicts are strangely attuned to the word of God, as are the educationally sub-average and those lacking in robust social networks. Am I the only one who finds it slightly puzzling that God has chosen these people to share his boundless knowledge with? He would also appear to want to populate heaven with people that have been inappropriately touched by their uncles/PE teachers and plain-looking women whose husbands have left them for a younger model. Oh, and why does he have a penchant for uptight young-men that appear to be struggling with their sexuality? Can you imagine what the next world will be like? What if all the addicts and ex-boozers fall off the wagon? I can see it now, the ivory halls caked in vomit; the saints gingerly picking their way through hordes of crack-toothed insufflators of crystal meth; and piss-sodden aficionados of Tennents Extra hurling handfulls of their own shit at passing cherubs. [Did someone say "Newport on a Friday night"?]
I didn't manage to work out what had triggered John's delusional psychosis, but I'm guessing he spent his formative years fine-tuning an, as yet unpatented, cocktail of tricyclic antidepressants, vicodin, human growth hormone, benzodiazapams and chloral hydrate. This obviously drew him closer to his God, or possibly just made him easy prey for evangelists,... one or the other.
Anyway, the real shame of the episode was that, despite me asking, they declined to call again, apparently they didn't think there was much point. Christ knows what gave them that idea, I didn't even show them my "Jesus Saves,... but Torres nets the rebound" t-shirt.
Religion, eh? SHIT IT!