Actually my experiences in this regard have been quite humorous, or at least appear to be so now from my present perspective.
Let me see...I've been called a Papist, a Pope-smoocher, and a variety of other anti-Catholic things...of course, that was by my dad, the Stalinist Communist, so I don't know if that counts.
I loved the miserable old bastard anyway, though at the time it was upsetting.
There was a girl, mind, in the old-old-old lab, who told me how her dad used to call the chicken's tail a "Pope's nose"; the impression being, I think, meant to be that shit comes out from thereunder. (A little offensive, a little funny.) I
think she subscribed to this joke, although maybe not the underlying ethos; I can't remember if I had to explain it's probably meaning to her or not. Although she
did say that Catholics had too many children... then had two or three kids out of wedlock and moved to Alaska. This is irony. Nice enough girl, a bit off kilter.
A large and fat woman of another religion, to judge by her headgear, refused to move her bags and coffee and let my four-year-old son sit down on a seat she was occupying beside her own. I don't think it was a particular time of year in which a state of religious purity is desired in that religion, although it may have been, or perhaps she just hated us, or possibly both.
There have been the odd few times when I was dating members of foresaid faith and received some pretty stiff receptions from the immediate and extended family. Yet, standing 6'5'' and 260 flat with a fair bit of martial arts experience does confer a certain privilege in such matters of the heart.
But the all-time champs for religious...bigotry? For making a religious impression? Maybe that's it...
must be the Witnesses of Jehovah. I made the mistake - just once, for that's all it takes - of accepting some literature and they
hounded me like the Black Dog of Angus for ten years.
It was unbelievable. All those stories you've heard about their bloodhound abilities which seem implausible?
BELIEVE THEM. THEY ARE TRUE. I moved not once but
four times within that city and they tracked me down
each time. Knock on the door, "Is Geoff there?" "Uh, hello. I guess I'm
it now again, am I?" Then - get this - we moved
cities and still they came by. How in the name of Myuu almighty they managed it I have no idea: is there some great Mormonesque database in the intertubes, managed by dangerous-talking clean-cut garrulous old men in sunglasses backed up by a throng of hair-chefed believers and throaty suit-wearing gay women? (
"Big Love" reference: please remain in your seats; and yes, I know it's not the same thing. Let it go.) How was it done? Canada Post? Occult tricks? Dynamically reconfigurable hidden-layer neural networks using fully programmable gate array technology? (
Charles Stross reference; let it go.) Who can say? I've heard similar tales and their legendary prowess and devotion is...well, legendary, actually.
Ironically, the only man I knew able to beat them at their own game was my father. He did this via the expedient - or not - of inviting them in, and arguing with them for two hours.
They never returned. Somewhere in God's little pyramid scheme, my line has earned a black mark.
