A father-and-son Jehovah's Witnesses team came to the door late this morning, and as my mother did before me, I gave them a polite listen. She used to bring them in for coffee, but I am not my mother's daughter in all ways--besides, my mother didn't have two howling dogs to contend with, or a sweetie who would be content to urge said dogs to attack said Witnesses. Not that they would, but you see my point.
Further, unlike my mother, I couldn't help but ask about their position on homos, and they replied with the Bible-says-it's-wrong-so-it-must-be line.
Sigh.
I replied that passages of the Bible have also been used to support slavery (which I thought my impress my guests, as they were African American), the subjugation of women, and also goes so far as to support public stonings for adulterers.
In other words: Considering the source's myriad flaws, I'm not buying it.
Well, they weren't buying my views either, for the father promised to come back to clear up the "common misperceptions" regarding the Bible's views on women. He said nothing about the slavery and stoning bits, but I wanted to finish my breakfast so I shook their hands and wished them well, letting their foolish inconsistency pass. Sigh x 2.
I hadn't planned on contemplating the condition of my soul today, but the morning's visitors brought it on, so to speak. If I go to hell, and I know it's a distinct possibility, I feel it will be for a short while, for I have already endured hell on this Earth--mostly during my faux straight drunk girl phase, but also at the hands/words of homophobes. In other words, I can envision a scenario under which I die, approach the Pearly Gates, and am told by St. Peter, "Uh my, you were a naughty girl, weren't you? But you were a drunk, too, and eventually got on your feet--more ways than one, if you don't mind my saying."
"All things considered, you should go to hell for your sins in the first half of your life, but you did your level best the second, kept God in your thoughts just about every day, helped others, and did what you could to make amends and turn the other cheek, so let's call it a wash, shall we? Your sweetie, folks, friends, and dogs are waiting for you in Room 624--give 'em all my best, will you?"
Well, a girl can dream....
On other fronts, there's a possibility of another paid comedy show in my future, which is good news of no small sort, and I have an editing test next week for a job that would allow me to stay home and still make decent money working with people who love what they do--that sounds quite promising, no?
Promising is good, for another one of my "status reports" came back (from Brandeis) with the news that the job had already been filled. If I hadn't asked, they wouldn't have told--does that strike anyone else as rude? At least UMASS has been good enough to send a very kind "we're sorry" letter both times they knocked me out of the running.
Though I'm risking the label "OLD FOGEY," allow me to note the sorry state of etiquette in the corporate and collegiate sectors. In the age of e-mail, it doesn't have to cost a thing to let people down easy, but yet most employers don't bother.
Oh well. I'm examining other's flaws, not my own--another reason hell is a distinct possibility. Oops!
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