An Unpleasant Encounter

On Saturday, I had an encounter in town with a most unpleasant woman.

I was in town to perform a few errands, including buying some beans for a recipe I had planned for Sunday and also starting my Christmas shopping round. In town, I managed to do the things I needed to do; I also managed to bump into my MP briefly, wishing him a Merry Christmas, and I also got to enjoy a cuppa in this little cafe in town that I frequent.

But before I got to the cafe, I was told that there was this little "shopper's rest" in town, on the abandoned first floor of a site which had once housed a store selling "sporting clothes" (actually little more than a "Chavs R Us" franchise). This Shoppers' Rest, supposedly a place for free tea and comfy seats, was to allow shoppers the chance to rest their weary feet and give them a moment's respite between trawls through shops.

It turns out to be a honey trap. Christians were lurking in wait, looking for lost souls to convert.

One particularly unpleasant, judgmental specimen latched on to me when I got in and sat in a comfy chair, tea and mince pie in hand. Here's a data point about my body language: When I sit on a sofa, I want someone to talk to me. When I sit in a single chair, I do not want company. At all.

I was sitting in a single chair. All I wanted was the tea, the pie and a moment's rest. That was all. Was it so damned hard to grant that? Apparently not.

The conversation started seemingly innocently enough - asking an innocuous question about what part of town I come from, whether I am in town to buy Christmas presents for the folks, and so on.

But it didn't long for the bloody woman to flick the switch, and suddenly she was in religitard mode. All pretense at normal conversation disappeared and it was suddenly "God, Jesus, Jesus, Lord, Jesus, Jesus, God" and nothing bloody else. Religion, religion, religion, nothing but bloody Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, God, God, God, like an obsessive fanwanking over his favourite subject to the exclusion of everything else.

I get enough of that shit online. I asked her what possibly justified her coming on to me like a leech at a blood bank, and what she expected to happen with me, knowing that I was well prepared to rip her beliefs to shreds if I had to, and leave her soul in tatters, just to defend myself against being harangued.

In the end, I just left the stinking, festering honey trap alone. But right now, I am letting you all know.

The religitards are doing this thing now, of setting up shoppers' rests. These are honey traps. If you go in, especially if you go in alone, be prepared to be preached at.

Here's what you must do, if you hear of such a vile pisspit opening up in your town. Arm yourselves.

Your weapons of choice have to be Bible quotes. Such as:-

11 A woman[a] should learn in quietness and full submission. 12 I do not permit a woman to teach or to assume authority over a man;[b] she must be quiet.

-- 1 Timothy 2:11-12

And when thou prayest, thou shalt not be as the hypocrites are: for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and in the corners of the streets, that they may be seen of men. Verily I say unto you, They have their reward.

-- Matthew 6:5

If a man still prophesies, his parents, father and mother, shall say to him, "You shall not live, because you have spoken a lie in the name of the Lord." When he prophesies, his parents, father and mother, shall thrust him through.

Zechariah 13:3

If a man is caught in the act of raping a young woman who is not engaged, he must pay fifty pieces of silver to her father. Then he must marry the young woman because he violated her, and he will never be allowed to divorce her.

-- Deuteronomy 22:28-29 NLT)

What kind of lunatic would make a rape victim marry her attacker? Answer: God.

Go and look up those quotes. Look up all the "good" stories in the book and focus on the shitty things they all did - like Samson's mass-murdering rampage and whoring, the genocide and slavery, and of course the gay Judas kiss at Gethsemane.

And if you do hear of such a honey trap ... go in mob-handed, all of you armed with your quotes. Take them down. No mercy. No quarter. No rest. Just destroy them utterly, as one would destroy a tumour or a fungus.

All the best. Good hunting.

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"And if we have unearned luck, now to scape the serpent's tongue, we will make amends ere long. Else the Puck a liar call ..."

So speak.