This afternoon confirms it:
Mormons have some kind of list of which houses NOT to stop at; they will pass you by when they are out doing their missionary thing.
From the corner window, I saw two young guys in the white shirts and the ties walking up the block towards my sidewalk. Then they passed by and went up to the next house.
I assume it’s because I engaged the last pair of Mormon missionaries with questions: why no one ever told them the truth about old Joe Smith who was a conman arrested twice in New York before he invented Mormonism, why a supposed divinely-inspired text would be full of untruths about Native Americans, how old Joe Smith’s doctrine of religious polygamy was an attempt to bamboozle people who thought he was immoral for marrying several young girls …
I also assume they reported my questions back to their mission leader and he (well, it would be a he, wouldn’t it, knowing Mormon views of women in leadership) must have put my address on a no-go list to avoid the chance that I might contaminate the faith of a future Mormon.
Poor kids. They are lied to their whole lives. Poor me, I missed my chance to enlighten a couple of ‘em.
LOL They absolutely do X your house. My dad was a shift worker and they once woke him up about 30 minutes after he’d gone to bed. He answered the door, naked as the day he was born and furious, and threatened to strangle them all with their ties. They never ever returned–and my parents lived in that house for 25 years.
oh lord what a great story! Glad I wasn’t there to see it, though 🍑
Piling on:
I lived for a while in a communal household with a bunch of people who rescued animals, and for a while we had this incredibly sweet Burmese python named Dolores that we were caring for. She rebounded from neglect very quickly and was basically a joyful and energetic bundle of sunshine, but she’d had mites and they were hard to get rid of. Treatment includes coating the snake with olive oil and waiting an hour, which causes the mites to suffocate. Now, it’s not a good idea to put an eleven-foot long greased snake into a glass habitat, so the best bet was to hold her for the hour. This was a formidable task, as Dolores weighed almost seventy pounds, but as i am a robust and muscular individual i stripped down to my underpants, picked up Dolores, and went about my business in a very slippery and greasy way (i was test-fitting new fangs for halloween).
Which was when the mormons stopped by. My housemates had seen them from the front windows, which was why they insisted i answer the door.
Me, befanged, mohawked, tattooed, pierced, greased, naked except for a ripped and sagging pair of drawers and an enthusiastic and friendly seventy-pound oily snake: hi!
Dolores, who was really having such an awesome day: new friends? yes? hello? you have treats?
Mormons: sorry wrong house. (they actually turned whiter i did not think that would have been possible)
Me (to housemates): keep an eye out for the assembly of god folks, okay? we might as well do this right.
One of my SCA buddies was dressed to go to an event when the Mormons knocked. He answered the door in his black, hooded cloak, long knife strapped on, and then looked back and called, “Brothers! The sacrifices have arrived!”
As you might imagine, those were the last Mormons he ever saw at that house.
I got X’d by the mormons because they thought I was summoning a demon (long and complicated story).
My mother got X’d by the mormons for accepting their free Book of Mormon, reading it and then, very politely, over tea, pointing out every single theological inconsistency in it. (This is not the only time my plump, under 5′ mother destroyed men in theological discussion. She had a degree…)
Thus, the Lord sent Mormon missionaries into the land. But if you take a lamb and cover the posts of your door with its blood, and the width of your shoulders with a python, the Mormons shall pass over you, and you shall be spared.
On a somewhat different note, one time my atheist mother felt sorry for a couple of young Mormon missionaries looking like they were about to keel over in the sun. So, she pretty much made them stay for supper. Not at all interested in listening to missionizing, but figuring that kids really couldn’t help being raised expected to go out and do that.
They were respectful after it became politely obvious that nobody wanted to discuss religion, and they were probably more than ready to knock it off for the day and relax over a nice normal family meal.
They were actually invited back, because why not. She didn’t feel less sorry for them after seeing how much they seemed to enjoy it. But, then one of then stopped back by to say “Thanks so much for the hospitality! But, sorry, we’re not supposed to do that 😞”
None ever came back after that the whole time we lived there, either. Maybe unprofessional fraternizing is also enough to get potential converts on a “do not call” list. Does kinda make you wonder.
Urocyon's Jaunts 2.0 