(no subject)

The door-knockers came around today to convert my street. They brought their adorable little kids with them, which I suspect might be some sort of ploy to make themselves more ingratiating. The young boy wasn't much interested in trying to convert me; he was standing on my front steps with his back to me, in his little suit and his dark-rimmed glasses, reading an Asterix book. I was more interested in trying to read over his shoulder than in the proffered Watchtower magazine.

You know, the Message might have a better chance of reaching me if it was about the good stuff, rather than Armageddon and burning and wrath. Maybe the God of Love is some other denomination. And they walk down the road so slowly! Not because they were escorting a toddler and a child who was concentrating on reading rather than walking, either -- there were two squads working, alternating houses, and the ones without children were just as slow. They looked like a funeral procession or a riding school dragging along. I'd be more interested in talking to active, energetic people who look like they're getting some joy out of life.