I have it on good authority, from an unnamed source, off the record, that at the recent Jehova’s Witness Convention, a vote was taken and the results were 893 to 1 for allowing members to tote AK-47’s on their missionary rounds. Their Lord High Poobah assured them he’d heard from God himself and that the Big Guy had told him, “Go forth and shoot whomever will not sign up for the Watchtower.”
Afterwards, a young reporter cornered the Poobah, whipped out his notebook and said, “I take it that you don’t support gun control of any kind.”
“Hell, no. Listen, son, when God speaks, well I don’t s’pose you have any experience with that, but when God speaks, the Lord Almighty, The King of Kings, well, when he speaks you betta listen or there will be a pox on your house or shack, or whatever, and on your entire heretical family for generations to come.”
“I get that, but are you really serious about encouraging your members to shoot people who don’t want your propagan – I mean the Watchtower? What is holy about that?”
“Looky here, son,” said the Poobah, his face scarlet. “Some of you heathens just won’t listen. And when we knock on your door at 7:00 a.m. of a Sunday, you get downright testy, even call some of us names. The problem is you don’t know what you don’t know. We’re here to teach you, but y’all are mighty stubborn. God wants us to modernize, get in with the flow, you unnerstan?” He takes a deep breath, shakes his head.
“No, I can see that you do not. You’re one of those ‘modern’ guys, thinks he’s above us, above The Word, well, you wouldn’t be so high and mighty if I shoved an AK-47 in your face, now would you? You’d scream like a little girl seeing a spider crawl up her leg, you’d pee your pants, might even toss your cookies. We’re here to save you from all that. We won’t use it lessen we have to, you have my word on that.”
“Well, that’s comforting,” said the young reporter, taking a step forward. “But, what about the one person who voted ‘no’ on this policy?”
“We best not talk about him, son. He ain’t a member no more.”
“What happened to him?”
“Like I said, son, we’re here to convert the pagans, but some of you damn nonbelievers just won’t have it. This displeases the Lord. Enough said about that.”
The reporter continued. “Are you aware that AK-47’s are made by the Russians? And that they meddled in our last election? Do you feel any discomfort about giving them money donated in good faith by your members?”
“Well, see, here, this is why Trump calls you people out for your ‘fake’ news. The guns we buy are made right here in the US of A—in the great state of Florida, as a matter of fact.”
“The company may be manufacturing guns on our soil, but it’s still a Russian company. The profits go to the Russians who used them against us in the 2016 election. Does that not mean anything to you?”
“Russian Shmushin. I can see that you’re just not someone we can talk to, son.You’re not gonna convert no matter how much the truth in all its glory is revealed to you. You’re just one of those infidels who can’t be saved no matter what. I’m sorry to do this, son, I tried, I really tried, but it’s now up to me to send you back to whatever immoral sh*t hole you crawled of.”
He raises his AK-47, takes aim ..
Rosie Sorenson is a humor writer in the San Francisco Bay Area. You can contact her at: RosieSorenson29@yahoo.com
From The Progressive Populist, May 15, 2018
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