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Messing with Mormon Missionaries

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Joined: 13 Aug 2009
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PostPosted: Sat Aug 27, 2011 12:01 am    Post subject: Messing with Mormon Missionaries Reply with quote

A couple years back, I bought myself a copy of The Gospel of the Flying Spaghetti Monster with the goal of using it to mess with door to door missionaries. After moving into a detached home I finally got my chance when I overheard my wife about to send away some missionaries. “Wait, I’ll talk to them!” I shouted as I grabbed my Pastafarian Bible and quickly went to the door. My wife, unable to keep a straight face, left the room and listened in from the back of the house. The two young men on my porch looked to be in their early 20s. The one is front was short and slight with zealous sincerity in his eyes and slightly semetic features. Behind him, the other was a large doughey ginger with a round simple face.

Missionary #1: “We’d like to speak to you about God’s word and the plans that he has for you and your loved ones.”

Me: “I’d be glad to hear about your book, as long as you don’t mind me also discussing with you some of my own religious beliefs. Are you familiar with Pastafarianism? No? Well, I’ll tell you about it, but you can go first.”

Missionary #1: “OK. You’re familiar with the New and Old Testament. Yes? But what if God had provided more recent revelations. Wouldn’t you want to know not just the old, but the most recent word of God?”

Me: “Absolutely! That's why I have The Gospel of the Flying Spaghetti Monster. It’s the most up-to-date statement of divine revelation I know of. See here: Copyright 2006. What’s the copyright on your book? 1600 something?"

Missionary #1: “Well, the Book of Mormon doesn’t have a date. But I don’t think that your book is from God.”

(side note, the Book of Mormon was first copyrighted by Jospeh Smith in 1830.)

Me: “Well, I suppose it doesn't really matter if you want to keep calling the Flying Spaghetti Monster 'God' now that he's finally revealed his true form. He was keeping his appearance a secret for a long time, being invisible and all. Well He’s finally revealed his form and it resembles spaghetti and meatballs. My book even has illustrations… here…. And here… and here, quite a few actually. Your book looks rather small? Does it have illustrations? If you'd agree that a picture is worth a thousand words, then there are truly thousands more Words of God in my book, than yours, wouldn't you agree?"

Missionary #1: “Well, no. The Book of Mormon is the WORD of God, it doesn’t have any pictures.”

Me: “OK, well why don’t we skip to the important stuff: Heaven! After all, that’s why we believe all this scripture, right? At the end of the day, it’s all about getting into Heaven, right?”

Missionary #1: “Yes, I suppose so.”

Me: “OK, so let’s get to the heart of the matter. Tell me about your Mormon Heaven and we’ll see if it’s any better than the Pastafarian Heaven. Pastafarian Heaven has a stripper factory at the base of a beer volcano. I think there are even graphic illustrations if you'll give me a second to find them in this book.”

Missionary #2: “That doesn’t sound appealing. I don’t like beer.”

Me: “So you like strippers? Very well then, give your beer to the strippers. What is alcohol for if not to get women drunk, right? There’s probably some root beer for you, but no promises. I wouldn’t want to make up stuff about Heaven that isn't fact. Still, I will admit that Heaven isn’t exactly what I would have wanted either: but it’s better than Hell, which incidentally also has a beer volcano and stripper factory - except the beer is flat and the strippers have venereal diseases. OK, so tell me about Mormon Heaven and we’ll see if its any better.”

Missionary #1: “Well, in Heaven you will experience absolute joy. You will be able to remember your mortal life, and the memory of pain will allow you to fully appreciate joy.”

Me: “That sound’s like being drunk: You enjoy yourself and feel no pain; you can still remember pain but you just aren't feeling it. Are you sure you don’t like beer? It sounds to me like you’d really like it. Maybe you just haven’t tried enough of it. You should get really sloshed; find out if you like Mormon Heaven before committing.”

Missionary #1: “The Joy experienced in Heaven is better than being drunk. It is the purest joy that can only be experienced in the presence of God.”

Me: “So what if my wife doesn’t convert to Mormonism and doesn’t get in. So in Mormon Heaven, I’d experience nothing but joy knowing she was in Hell. I wouldn’t feel any pain or sadness from missing her? That sounds kind of sick. I don’t like the sound of that.”

Missionary #1: “Well, no, she would be able to get into Heaven. When she dies, she would get a chance to learn about Mormonism and she could choose then.”

Me: “Terrific! So we can put off deciding about Mormonism until we're dead, and make a decision then.”

Missionary #1: “No, because only people who never had the chance to learn about Mormonism while they were alive get the chance to learn about Mormonism after they die. If you learn about Mormonism and reject it during your mortal life, then you don’t get a chance to change your mind after your death.”

Me: “So basically you’re going door to door, condemning people to hell. All those people would have had a chance to get into Heaven by making a last minute decision, but by talking to them, you’ve ruined it. That’s terrible! Stop going door to door ruining it for everyone. In fact, don’t tell me anything more about your Mormonism; I would like to keep my options open for when I’m dead. Let’s just talk about Pastafarianism, OK.”

Missionary #1: “But if you accept the Book of Mormon now, you get to experience joy, not only in Heaven, but also now in your mortal life.”

Me: “Shush! I’m trying to keep my options open. Don’t tell me any more, you can tell me all about Mormonism when I’m dead. You’ll have a lot higher success rate persuading people to believe in Mormonism if you wait until they're dead before proselytizing. The truth will be a lot more apparent by then. But for now, you should go home, and stop going door to door condemning people to hell.”

These poor missionaries still weren't giving up on me, but I was now shushing them every time they tried to limit my future options by exposing me to their religion. Eventually, I shook their hands and sent them on their way with a traditional Pastafarian blessing.

Me: "Ramen brothers, Ramen!"

By this point my wife was laughing so hysterically from the back of the house, I was worried I might induce labour 5 months premature.

Last edited by Magnus on Sat Aug 27, 2011 12:30 pm; edited 56 times in total
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