Get Lost, Xenu

It's been five years since I've been targeted by religious nuts in the park.

Last time, I was subjected to the unwanted attentions of Tweedledee and Tweedledum, the Mormon twins.

This time I was accosted by a British Jehovah's Witness and his gaggle of close to a dozen Filipina acolytes while I was eating my lunch. Why he was the only male and why he needed that many female assistants was beyond me.

After the usual introductory chit-chat, out came the Awake! pamphlet, which I politely declined. I was amazed when he backed right off, saying, "Ah, you know who we are."

I nodded, but I knew who he was the instant I spotted him, before he even looked my way, in fact. Vultures are more subtle.

And still he came over to make his pitch; my go-away-and-don't-bug-me vibe must have malfunctioned.

Still, it had to happen sooner or later. Now that it's over with, I expect not to be pestered by the next screwy religion until 2011.

Scientologists, take note.

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