Alll I said was
This dinner was good enough for Jehovah!

They bloody tried to stone me near to death!
Fucking twats.
(Poppet some assembly required., Sun 22 Mar 2009, 0:15, 7 replies)

My friend
is just out of hospital after having an operation on his brain to remove a brain tumor from his head which was successful. However, he has been left with large gaps in his memory. If i were to fill those gaps with tales of scandal and debauchery that he could not confirm may or may not have happened, would you kind people vouch for me to god that i'm not as evil as i sound on the old deeds list?
also, tale ideas as comments welcome :)
(El, Sun 22 Mar 2009, 0:00, 7 replies)

I was once kicked in the shins for not believing in god.
I was 6 years old, and when you're in primary school, they do their level best to try and mold you into what is seen as a "model citizen."

Now, I went to a catholic primary school in Nottingham. Suffice to say, I was pretty much the only non-believer in the entire school.

I don't wish to cast aspersions on anyone's belief system, but I just think its a bunch of bollocks.

I've always maintained this. My parents raised me to be atheist (so why did they sent me to a catholic school? I can't fathom that, no matter how much I try.) From an early age, I was always taught that I've got to do things for myself, and that god, or mohammed, or any other symbol of hope is going to make my dreams come true - if you want something, you fucking well take it for yourself.

So imagine the shock and horror of the little catholic school children when I say this kind of staunch, anti-spiritual thing.

Yes, it was with bruised shins and knees that I dragged my sorry arse home that day.

My mum marched up to the school, a brouhaha ensued, she walked out of the head teachers office saying "self-righteous cunt", and that was that. I continued to learn at that school, but I always got the feeling I was disliked - if the death threats were anything to go by.
(ratchet32 formally nachose!, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 23:42, Reply)

The very first time I came to Russia
Was on a trip with my university. Now, when you enter the country, you need to surrender your passport for a number of hours to be registered in to the city by the hotel.

Bearing in mind that we were at this time a sprightly group of 18 - 21 year old university studes, we were anxious to sample some of the amazing Russian booze we'd heard so much about.

After handing over passports, and not having any documents or ID at all in some cases due to the ineptitude of the hotel staff/idiocy of some students not to ask for copies, we split up into two groups and made our way into the Moscow night in search of booze.

A great time was had by my group, and although breakfast the next morning was a little subdued, we were nothing in comparison to the other group, none of whom were saying a thing. Neither was our usually-chatty lecturer.

Turns out that they'd got absolutely wankered and decided that, at 3am, it would be an absolutely excellent idea to stumble to Red Square and look at St Basil's cathedral (you know, that's the big brightly coloured swirly thing that everyone thinks is part of the Kremlin but isn't). So, they get there, they look, and then unfortunately disaster strikes. One of the company decides that she's had more than too much booze, and now the only course of action is for her to empty her guts. She decides to do this directly against the wall of St Basil's Cathedral. She vomits all over the facade of one of the most famous churches in the entire world. As if that wasn't enough, her mate comes over all queasy and voms on the steps next to her. So, picture the scene. 6 drunk British students, two covered in vomit, which is also liberally spread over and around the most well-known symbol of Russia and her Orthodox Christian heritage.

This is the scene that greets the small group of patrolling policemen who suddenly round the bend. Here's a simple equation:

Foreign + drunk + sacrilegious vomiting + no documents = A trip to the police station.

This is from where the girls called our lecturer at about 4am, dragging him out of his bed to come down to the militsia den and pay for their release.

Those girls didn't drink again for the entire trip.

Length? The still-visible streaks in the snow the next day were longer.
(judeski walked on water and ran through fire, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 23:36, 1 reply)

Union
Like almost all universities, mine has a Christian Union. Officially, their function was to be the "christian society", providing information and support for Christians and non-Christians alike.

In practice, they were like the fucking Borg. Looking to assimilate every single person within their laser-guided eyesight, and inject God's hot steaming love into you by any means necessary. I was targed by the drones in my first year of university.

Did they come round to my door like Jehova's witnesses? Did they put religious tracts in my college mailbox? Did they run "Love Jesus" concerts?

No. They didn't. They were much more insidious as I found out the hard way. They'd pick on someone not particularly religious who's a bit of an outcast. A geek, a weird person, etc.They would become friends with them. Chat with them in the kitchen happily, and bring them in to the social circle.

Then, the invites start to subtly change - instead of being invited down the pub, you get invited to a lunchtime talk about Jesus... with free lunch. Or to a religious discussion group, again with free lunch - they know their audience.

All that is forgivable. What isn't forgivable is when after about eight or nine weeks of this you're really connected with them. You have a good circle of friends who like you and you like them. And it becomes apparent to them that you're firmly an atheist. They give up on trying to convert you... and completely shut you out of their lives. Ask about something social... they're all busy. Or they booked a table for ten at a restaurant and it'll be too busy to squeeze in an eleventh. Emails go unanswered. Organising a party? They'll forget to inform you, and be vague about the date when asked. It was like flicking a light switch - one day all was well, the next I was a pariah to them.

It's a horrible, horrible blow to realise that they weren't actually your friends. But during the time they were trying to convert you, they were acting just like your real friends did - even now, looking back I can't see a single moment where they weren't acting totally friendly and nice to me. Which makes it all the more bitter and sharp when they completely shut me out.

At first, I thought this was just me. Or I'd done something really bad to offend them, or I was just not fitting in. But then I spoke to someone else who'd had the same experience. And another. And a third. I have a few friends now who are Christians and all of them have the same low opionion of the university CU.

There is not a word harsh enough to describe these cunts. Nearly ten years later, the anger is still hot and blazing. I was nervous and scared and new at uni, they knew it, saw it and gave me the friendship and support I needed and used it like a tool to manipulate me.

The saddest part of all came when I spoke to a current first-year at the university. They'd tried the same thing on him, though he'd heard enough stories to be wary. They're still doing it :(
(calamarain just invented dehydrated water, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 23:15, 7 replies)

This one time a Jehova's witness came to my house...
he said "Can I interest you in the word of our lord."
I said "No thankyou, I'm pretty stubbornly decided religion-wise."
"Oh okay, nevermind." Said the Jehova's witness.
"Ah well, good luck anyway! Bye now."
"Bye."

It was what I like to call, two people not being utter cunts about their differing views. Hardly a classic anecdote I know...
( Paedosmile service with a grin., Sat 21 Mar 2009, 22:56, 4 replies)

the local Latter Day Saints
We renamed them Elder Flower and Elder Berry.

Bless 'em, they never cottoned on.
(happylittletulip helpless and delicious, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 22:56, 2 replies)

More Witnesses
The Jehovahs went a-knocking on the door of one of mine and Mr Twaddle's good friends, one bright and sunny Sunday morning. Unfortunately, it took quite some time for our mate to answer the door, as he had partaken a sizeable amount of jolly water the previous evening and was renowned for rising from his pit when the rest of us were about to hit the sack. Anyway, finally he staggered to the front door and opened it to the happy, smiling faces of Mr and Mrs Witness.

"Yes?" enquired our still pissed pal.
"Good morning sir, would you like to read our leaflet today?"
"Would this have anything to do with God, perchance?"
"Why yes!" beamed the chirpy Mr Witness
"Ah, the God who knows everything about us, and the world around us," said chum, struggling to suppress a large belch.
"Yes, that's the God, if you put it like that," replied Mrs Witness, with a self satisfied smirk.
"Well, he DIDN'T fucking well "know" that I was still asleep, did he?"

Belch? Yes, and absolutely no apologies for length and quality.
(pussy twaddle performs indiscretions in branches of Millets..., Sat 21 Mar 2009, 21:11, Reply)

Courtesy of Tim Minchin...

So you're gonna live in Paradise,
With a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins.
So you're gonna live in Paradise,
With a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins,
So you're gonna sacrifice your life
For a ride on a UFO,
And when the Lord comes down with his shimmering chariot of salvation,
You're gonna be the first to know.

And so if...
God was there from the very beginning
He invented men and women,
Then He also invented wanking,
Then He said wanking was sinning.
So if I'm feeling randy
I'm not allowed to hand-shandy,
But having sex with my family,
That is just fucking great.
It's all there in Ezekial 8,
Just before He opens up His big pearly gate,
And says that it's a sin
To take it up the date,
Even if it's great,
Even with your cowboy mate.

So you're gonna live in Paradise,
With a ten-foot cock and few hundred virgins,
So you're gonna sacrifice your life
For a shot at the greener grass,
And when the Lord comes down
With his shimmering rod of judgement,
He's gonna kick my heathen arse.

So if you...
Cover the bodies of your women
Everybody is grinning,
Because black is so slimming,
Though it's not great for swimming.
But it gives me an erection,
With the increased sexual tension,
What with the U.V. protection
That is second to none.
You'll find it all in the Quran
Just next to the bit that justifies guns,
And says that it's a sin
To take it up the bum,
Even if it's fun,
Even in the scrum.

So you're gonna live in Paradise
With a ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins,
So you're gonna sacrifice your life
For a shot at eternity,
And when the Lord comes down
And I haven't done my penance,
He's gonna disembowel me.

You say that...
If I...
Stumbled on a watch I'd assume it had a watchmaker,
That a muffin presupposes a baker,
So you must agree sooner or later,
That this proves that there's a creator.
So if I put my foot in a stinker,
You'd assume the existence of a sphincter,
Thus you don't need to be a great thinker
To coclude that God's a bum,
Which negates the words of Genesis 1
Which made Him out to be so much fun,
Until Adam succumbed
To temptation,
And then His only son
Got nailed to a gum,
Or the Middle-Eastern equivalent,
Which suggests that God's omniscience
Is nullified by His ambivilance,
Unless it turns out that He's impotent,
And if God can't get a boner,
I guess that explains the plethora
Of huge erections in His honour -
Because we all know a steeple's just a subconscious compensatory manifestation of a huge stiff penis -
Still He tells us that it's heinous
To stick a penis up your anus,
Even if you're famous,
Even if you're good at tennis.

So you're gonna live in Paradise
Witha ten-foot cock and a few hundred virgins,
So you're gonna sacrifice your life
For a ride on a UFO,
And when the Lord comes downwith his big slippery rod of judgement,
I'm gonna be the first to go,
He's gonna send me down below,
He's gonna whip me don't ya think so?
I'm gonna be the first to go.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=QaLF8UGr0hQ
(misanthrope is so adjective he's verbing nouns!, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 20:40, 2 replies)

Changing the lyrics...
You need some background to understand this...

We had a lad in our class by the nickname of Danny, and this was mid seventies when there were more styles of haircut than you could shake a nit infested comb at... One of them was 'the feather', it looked good done in a salon by a professional.
Reg Willis operated out of his converted living room...
Our school song was 'Our Father, by whose servants.....'

Our Father, by whose servants
our house was built of old,
whose hand hath crowned her children
with blessing manifold,
for thine unfailing mercies
far-strewn along our way,
with all who passed before us,
we praise thy Name today.

Well, I think our version is pretty self explanatory....

"Oh Danny, by Reg Willis,
Your hair was cut of old,
His hands hath made your feather
A haircut to behold,
We hate you Danny bilge face,
And as we sing this song,
We hate your bloody haircut,
A feathercut gone wrong."

About 40 sixth formers trying desperatly to keep their voices just below the rest of the school...

And then realising the form masters are stood just behind them.
(paof2 Nude might not be rude, but rude could be nude..., Sat 21 Mar 2009, 20:05, Reply)

Maladicta below reminds me.
Religion was never forced down my throat at school but every Christmas and Easter we were frogmarched down to the church and made to sing hymns and wonder at the sight of the most fervently atheist kid in school out bible stories. (He fancied one of the girls who also did this.)

This went on for what felt like hours. Every boring word in the reverends monotonous whine dragged on forever, merging into the next word to form one big boring noise.

To make time pass slightly quicker we did what all good teenagers should and made up words to the hymns.

“Dance, Dance,
Wherever you may be,
On the grave of a dead baby,
And we’ll wake him up,
From his deep sleep,
We’ll wake up the baby zombie”

“Please remain standing for the next hymn”

The sheet slid on to the Over head projector.

“It’s cumbyah, we whispered excitedly, fantastic” We stifled a giggle. We all knew the verses “Kiss my ass my lord”, then “someone’s shagging my lord”, “have a wank
My lord” and “suck my cock my lord”. We steadied ourselves, looked at each other, drew breath and sang just quiet enough to not be noticed if everyone else sang,

“Kiss my ass my lor…” but just loud enough so the entire church could hear if nobody else sang, because everyone else remembered that no one sang the introductory verse.

On the bright side we didn’t have to go back the next year.
(Roger McGough-Pipe, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 19:40, 2 replies)

Jehova Witnesses
They don't often knock on my door, but when they do, I tend to tell them where to get off and leave it at that.

Well anyway, one time one of them was in a wheelchair. I have no predujice against the disabled, hell I am one, so I wasn't gonna pander to them and told them as usual to gtfo!

Well, afterwards I went up to my bedroom just in time to witness (pardon the pune) the abled one trying to turn the wheelchair user around to get out of my garden on my very narrow path, with my muddy garden seriously hindering them.

I am not ashamed to say, I was laughing myself silly over this, silly cunts.

Oh yeah, I'm totally going to hell!
(pvc_sister I have nothing witty or amusing to write here, so., Sat 21 Mar 2009, 19:40, 1 reply)

On balance;
Yes, I think I do procrastinate.
(kitescreech still here, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 19:25, 3 replies)

In my life,
I have had many jobs, but the one that secured my seat in that warm and burny place was a camp counselor for kids ages 12-14, and, by the way, It was a church camp. I am a person to which an abnormal amount of irreverence to absolutely everything was bestowed, so, I had some fun with it.

Now, the type of kids that attended this camp had some, one, or all of the following qualities:

(a)Had been to catholic school their entire lives, and thus, knew nothing of the outside world.

(b)were socially inept to a point that it hindered day to day existence

(c) were geniuses of the science of pissing people off

Now, the particular child in this event wore sunglasses constantly, at all times of day, and insisted on being referred to, not his normal name, but a self bestowed nickname of "Shades"
He refused to participate in the normal chores given to the campers during the day, such as cleaning the bathrooms, helping with kitchen cleanup and other such things. He also refused to shower.

At night, the campers were required to be in bed with lights out and silent by 11pm. The counselors, there were eight of us, four guys, four girls, yearned for the nights when we would walk past the dorms and see a flashlight beam pass the windows and storm in and get the little bastard or bastardette to do some cleaning so we wouldn't have to.

On one night we gave the kids a scary story that consisted of a priest hanging himself in the dorms they slept in, and one of the male counselors walking through the dorms in a priest's robes. The plan worked and they were scared shitless, but after a point, we grew tired of the noise coming from the dorms while we tried to enjoy our nightly smoke. Thus, we ran in and threw the lights on and began screaming wildly at all the boys in the dorms. I look upon the top of one of the bunk beds, shades' bunk in particular, and this 12 year old boy is...er...pounding the tube steak, summoning the genie, beating the purple headed yogurt slinger, killing kittens, masturbating is what i'm getting at. I was shocked, and in my ganja assisted stupor, I screamed "Shades, what the fuck are you doing?" at which point he throws the blanket covering himself off, he is wearing the sunglasses, and he moans loudly, and proceeds to ejaculate, hitting himself in the sunglasses and surrounding area. Now the picture this makes is the following: Four men, ages 18 to 25, screaming at scared young boys, who, by the way are scared because of someone dressed as a Catholic Prest, and one of them gets covered in his own semen.

If my life is viewed at any point without any back story or input from me, I am going straight to hell.

Apologies for length, and you should probably clean up a little bit.
(BaileyIs A Drunk, Alcoholics go to meetings, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 18:44, 2 replies)

How to make school assemblies bearable, by Maladicta, age 16½
I went to a public, allegedly non-denominational school which still forced its pupils to sing hymns every morning even if they were Sikh, Hindu, Jewish, Buddhist, or atheist. This was made slightly less palatable by the usual 20-minute ramble with a tenuous link to God by our deputy head, a man who bore a not insubstantial resemblance to Austin Powers (though I'm told before the movie was released he was referred to as Carlos the Jackal). He was a vicar in his spare time, and had an uncanny ability to relate things as far removed from Jebus as cat prints on his car, broadband and gerbils to God. He didn't have much of a sense of humour and never really got why no one could be arsed with the singing. The only way I could make his assemblies bearable was to imagine him leaping onto the stage and yelling "God is SHAGADELIC, baby, yeah!", before doing a full Austin Powers musical number.

As well as our daily dose of Jebus, we would have a 12" remix at the end of term in the local church (the same one Stalker Boy used to go to to get away from Tris and play the theme from Crossroads on the organ), where in between the announcements of what a spiffing term it had been, we would sing hymns. Here, a meme was born, which extended among me and my very few friends (most of my year being, as previously documented, cunts).

I had spent most of Year 11 arguing the toss with my RE teacher, a tall, thin Brummie (and, crucially, bearded) chap named Mr Jones, for repeatedly confusing me with Boring Sarah (the only person in the year less popular than me; she had serious religion - didn't believe in contraception, premarital sex or sex at all for that matter - fat, with hair like a triangle and who enjoyed poking people repeatedly in the upper arm to get their attention before announcing to the minute how old her kittens were), and for informing my mother at parents' evening that the reason I would not want to be a nun was the fact there were no boys (I sat with the boys since all my mates in that class were in possession of a Y chromosome, not because I was enjoying lunchbreak sexytiem with them). However, among these few friends we had somehow transmogrified his beard into a separate entity (known as Beardsly), who was drawn with stick arms and legs, as well as the eyes and glasses of Mr Jones himself. We would spend time outside of lessons stroking imaginary beards and affecting thick Brummie accents to ask one another of the "second purpose of marriage". (Sexytiem, since you ask.)

This isn't the game; the game was to sing the hymns with one crucial difference: replacing at least every second noun with the word "beard". This could be altered for artistic licence's sake.

Our favourite ran thus:

Oh worship the Beard, all glorious above.
Oh gratefully sing his power and his beard;
Our shield and defender, the Ancient of Beards,
Pavilioned in splendor and girded with beards.

Oh tell of his might; oh, sing of his beard,
Whose robe is the beard, whose canopy space;
His chariots of wrath the deep be-aa-rds form,
And dark is his path on the wings of the beard.

The earth with its store of beards untold,
Almighty, your power has founded of old,
Established it fast by a changeless beard,
And round it has cast, like a mantle, a beard.

Your bountiful care what beard can recite?
It breathes in the air, it shines in the beard,
It streams from the hills, it descends to the beard
And sweetly distills in the dew and the beard.

Frail children of dust, and feeble as frail,
In you do we trust, nor find you to fail;
Your beards, how tender, how firm to the end,
Our maker, beard, redeemer, and beard!

Oh measureless Might, ineffable Beard,
While angels delight to hymn you above.
The humbler beards, though feeble their lays,
With true adoration shall sing to your beeeeeeeard.
( Maladicta, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 17:40, Reply)

He's in the little things
This morning I saw a man with the best combover in Christendom.

It started right on the back of his head, about two inches above his hairline, and ended in a spectacular swirly quiffy point just above his eyebrows.

It was coiffed and styled to within an inch of its life. Imagine if Nicky Clarke had had too much coffee and then been let loose on Russell Brand.

Not only was it almost art, it nearly fooled me into thinking "My, what a splendid head of hair that man has! What a virile specimen!"

Then the wind blew.

God definitely exists.
(happylittletulip helpless and delicious, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 17:02, 5 replies)

Many, many years ago
I was five or six years old. I was in Brugge, Belgium, with my parentals. Aimlessly wandering around the town, we aimlessly wander into a church. We aimlessly wander around the church. We aimfully wander back to the door - to find that the bastards in charge have locked up and legged it. Cue an hour and a half of my parents shouting through the keyhole for help while terrified, five year old me, with no concept of time, and a fear of dark deserted churches stood behind them bawling my eyes out.

I can smile about it now but at the time it was terrible...
(judeski walked on water and ran through fire, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 16:53, 1 reply)

When I was a younger,
I wanted a bike really, really badly. I used to pray to God for a shiny new bike.

Of course realising God doesn't work that way I nicked one and prayed for forgiveness.
(Scrumpy does not negotiate with terrorists,, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 16:50, 2 replies)

Religious busy body ...
I worked with one, once. A woman, we shall call her Betty for that was her moniker, who represents the very worst of "the church" as far as I'm concerned.
You know the sort - I worked for a big charity, and she was a volunteer of a certain age who believed the sun shone out of her own fundament. She believed that God made everything happen for a reason, which included telling me I was disabled because God judged me deserving of it (I lost about 90 ninety percent of my eyesight overnight when I was 23 due to a genetic condition.) I wondered how she would react if I had poked her in the eye with a stick and told her God chose me to deliver the punishment to her because she was such a cow, but I rose above and just walked away.
When the big shit hit the fan during 911, she opined to the whole shop (as the whole dreadful thing was unfolding on the radio) that "those people on those planes better be right with God or they're going straight to Hell".
I left the employ of said charity a short time later - it was that her put broken glass in her afternoon scones.

On a lighter note ...

In my time I have kept pet rats, and pet Madagascan cockroaches. If the Witnesses come knocking (and you get a feel for when it's them in my opinion -- though I have got it wrong a couple of times and frightened delivery drivers), the quickest way to get them to leave is to answer the door with a giant cockroach on your nose.

Length ? Well my favourite roach was about three inches end to end ...
(womanwhocanonlylivewithdogs, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 16:34, Reply)

When John Paul 2 died, they set off the air raid sirens in Warsaw
having only been living here six months, I had no idea what was going on (I didn't watch the local news) and figured something awful might be happening, so I phoned the girlfriend just to remind her how much I loved her.
"Why are you doing this?" she queried, and I told her the Russians must be invading again or somesuch.
"No, you fool, the Pope just died," she scolded, to which I let out a relieved "thank fuck for that."

The line went dead.
( Grrrmachine the indifference engine, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 16:30, Reply)

Parochial House
I used to live on an island with 2 other Priests; a lecherous old alcoholic and a bumbling idiot. We had lots of scrapes, I nearly left for a parish in the US but in the end decided life on Craggy Island was for me. Now where's Mrs. Doyle with a cup of tea?
(kitescreech still here, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 16:12, 6 replies)

Apologies for the lack of funny
Grew up (as far as any man can say he grows up, in that he gets older but no more mature) in a Christian family, the most lovely people in the world, went to church every Sunday and joined in all of the activities related, was great fun. When I got to uni, the world at my feet, I get heavily involved with the Christian Union (you know, those annoying people in hoodies who smile too much and unsuccessfully try to sue the Guild of students over something which the CU were clearly in the wrong for). I also become heavily involved with a very conservative, fundamentalist evangelical church, and between those two almost my whole time at uni was spent doing "Christian" things. Now I shouldn't complain, nobody forced me to do these things, and certainly nobody forced me to get married because living together and having sex before marriage would have been "wrong", but I can't help wondering how different my life would have been had I just spent the last 10 years of my life making decisions because they made sense, not because "the church" said so.

Happily I'm now the atheist side of agnostic, not because of some terrible event (Christianity actually helped rationalise my mother's death from cancer, and really didn't shake my faith at all) but because I was finally forced to ask myself why exactly I believed what I did. The default position, and I think a lot of Christians fail to realise this, should be to refuse to believe something unless given a good reason to believe it. Far too many Christians think it's the other way around, that we should believe whatever people tell us unless someone can come up with a good reason not to. Why, after so many years of rejecting other religions on the basis they had no proof, I hadn't realised I wasn't applying the same standard to Christianity I will never know.

Maybe later I'll come up with something funny, am sure there's a lot to be said, but this little rant has been very cathartic (in a Greek sense, not a medical one!)

Length? About 23 years which was plenty long enough!
(Liberal, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 15:42, 3 replies)

I have spent most of the morning on Sickipedia
reading the Jade Goody jokes to Mr Maladicta as he plays Disgaea 3 on the PS3. I think this earns me a seat in the hot burny place.
( Maladicta, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 15:39, 3 replies)

Homosexuality
I would like an answer to this, please - if God is so full of love and forgiveness and being gay is such a sin... how many wars have been fought in the name of homosexuality and how many died compared to those fought and killed in the name of God?

And what's so wrong with taking it up the 'arris anyway? I rather like it.
(badfox1 wonders who he's played by this episode on, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 15:29, 12 replies)

Jehovah's Witnesses (who else?)
There's a Kingdom Hall not far from where I live, so the locals are forever plagued by the Witnesses (and their poor little kids who get dragged along when they'd rather be ANYWHERE else) knocking on their doors clutching copies of the Watchtower.

The father of a friend of mine from Secondary school was a trucker, so on the odd occasions when he was home from work he was usually sleeping and inevitably the Witnesses would come a knocking at this most inopportune time. So the Trucker had some handy methods to deal with them, including:

* Answering the door naked, in all his 20st glory
* Quickly daubing a Swastika on his forehead before opening the door
* Opening the door with his trousers round his ankles, snatching a copy of The Watchtower and thanking them for arriving just as he was running out of toilet paper

And possibly my favourite:

Opening the door to them at around noon, inviting them into the living room and returning to bed. They were apparently still there when Chris returned home from school at 4 that afternoon!
( applehead herp derp, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 15:29, Reply)

What I dont get
about Christianity: Seriously. WHY does Jesus dying on the cross wash away my/our sins. I dont get the mechanic. Is it a "human" sacrific thing? I keep meaning to ask a vicar this, but the oppurtunity never arises.
(kitescreech still here, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 15:27, 3 replies)

What really annoys me about Christian iconography
isn't so much the 'white Jesus syndrome'. It's in Nativity plays, when God takes the form of a half-squid half-man and rises from the sea. It's very realistic, but it doesn't make a lot of sense! Still, the kids seem to like it - especially the ones from the older families that've been here for a hundred years. St Howard's Cthulhic Church, Innsmouth, if you're ever in the area around Christmas.
(apeloverage committed the vile act of onanism on, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 15:26, 4 replies)

So, the Nativity.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but is Nazareth not in Israel? Therefore, how likely is it that Jesus, and indeed his mother, were blonde-haired and blue-eyed as opposed to dark-haired and dark-skinned? Thought so.

So why the hell is it the little Aryan kid who plays Mary every year? *bitters*
( Maladicta, Sat 21 Mar 2009, 14:46, 7 replies)