Years ago there were a couple JWs who made a concerted effort to convert me. We lived in what had been my grandparents' house on the farm so it wasn't like they could just walk to the house. Often they brought a little kid or two with them. I guess they learned I would invite them right inside the door because the kids were scared of my German Shepherd. One day they showed up, with the kids, and it was raining like crazy so I again invited them in. One of the women kept up a steady stream of conversation while the other one kept looking over her shoulder at the desk. It took me a couple minutes to realize that on the desk was a stack of Playboys and Penthouses that my dad had given to my husband the night before. That was my last JW visit at that house.
As it turns out smut magazines (even of the not too smutty kind) are like Kryptonite to your run of the mill JW doorknocker.
As it turns out smut magazines (even of the not too smutty kind) are like Kryptonite to your run of the mill JW doorknocker.
“If you are the smartest person in the room, then you are in the wrong room.” — Confucius