Tuesday, September 28, 2004
Why I hate answering the door
Ding-dong!
It was Saturday night, Jacquie and I were in the middle of watching the newly-released A New Hope on DVD, and the doorbell just rang. I hit the pause button and sat there. These days, when the doorbell rings and I haven't been given prior notice of a visitor, I assume -- rightly so -- that it's a door-to-door spammer (I've started equating everything to Internet junk mail -- phone spam, door-to-door spam, those kids that stand outside the liquour store spam).
"You get it," I said to Jacquie. "It's your turn." For some reason, I believe I always answer the door. It's not true, but it's a perception I have.
"No. It's night. A lot of things happen to women that answer the door at night," Jacquie said.
"What -- and nothing happens to men that answer the door at night?" Ever since we moved into a house, we've had door-to-door spammers so often that we've become accustomed to not answering the door. It's like with the phone. With call display, you look to see who's calling, and if it's an unknown name or number, you just leave it on the hook and let it ring through to the machine. Why can't someone develop door display?
If we wait long enough, whoever is at the door usually goes away, and that's just fine with me. Whoever was at the door this time was a little more persistent than the people from the gas company that seem to show up every other week.
Knock, knock, knock.
Giving up, I stepped out into the hallway. We have a frosted glass window on the door, so whoever is at the door can tell when someone is in the hallway. There's no hiding once they've spotted you. I walked to the door, turned off the alarm, unlocked the door and opened it. A rather tall man with a crease in his nose was standing there, a smaller guy (Oriental of some sort -- I didn't get a good enough look at him to determine his nationality) standing behind him. I noticed the little book opened in his hand right away (I'm observant that way). It looked Bible-ish.
"Good evening, sir," the big guy with the creased nose said. "How are you this evening?"
"I'm fine. How are you?" I didn't care how he was. I had a feeling I knew what was coming next.
He looked down at his book, and I realized it was open to somewhere in the Book of Matthew.
"I'm sure you've said these words to yourself many times," Mr. Creased Nose said. And then he was off quoting a passage from Matthew.
"Dude, I'm atheist!" I exclaimed, cutting him off. Now it's not too often that I would use the word "exclaimed" when describing something someone said, but I really did exclaim in this case. I was surprised and appalled that he was at my door trying to read Bible passages to me.
"Oh, sir, we respect all beliefs," the guy said. Somehow I doubted that. "Do you not believe because of all the suffering in the world?"
"It's because I don't believe. There's no truth in that book. Why do you believe?" The question was accusatory, as it was meant to be. I felt my anger rising, but I held it in check.
"Because there's evidence--"
"That," I said, pointing at the Bible in his hand, "is not evidence."
"Well, what about creation?" he asked me.
"Evolution," I said. To me, that's all the answer there is. God didn't create man. Man created God to give himself a sense of purpose.
"There is scientific evidence that disproves evolution," he said.
"No, there's not," I said. Scientifically, you can't prove something, but once it's disproved, the theory or hypothesis is out the door. Nobody has disproved evolution. The only disproof that exists is faith in creation, a concept I have considered bullshit since before I became an atheist.
The guy with the creased nose insisted that there was, and that he had some documents in his bag that would show me that proof.
"Would you like me to leave them with you?" he asked.
"No," I said. What were the chances this guy was toting around actual evidence disproving evolution from a respectable scientist? I figured it was somewhere between "squat" and "not a chance in hell."
"Thank you for your time, sir. Have a good night." He stepped away and made his way down the driveway. I hadn't thought I would actually want to watch the newly-CGIed Star Wars, but this Christian spammer had just made that happen. I closed the door and went back to the movie.
It was Saturday night, Jacquie and I were in the middle of watching the newly-released A New Hope on DVD, and the doorbell just rang. I hit the pause button and sat there. These days, when the doorbell rings and I haven't been given prior notice of a visitor, I assume -- rightly so -- that it's a door-to-door spammer (I've started equating everything to Internet junk mail -- phone spam, door-to-door spam, those kids that stand outside the liquour store spam).
"You get it," I said to Jacquie. "It's your turn." For some reason, I believe I always answer the door. It's not true, but it's a perception I have.
"No. It's night. A lot of things happen to women that answer the door at night," Jacquie said.
"What -- and nothing happens to men that answer the door at night?" Ever since we moved into a house, we've had door-to-door spammers so often that we've become accustomed to not answering the door. It's like with the phone. With call display, you look to see who's calling, and if it's an unknown name or number, you just leave it on the hook and let it ring through to the machine. Why can't someone develop door display?
If we wait long enough, whoever is at the door usually goes away, and that's just fine with me. Whoever was at the door this time was a little more persistent than the people from the gas company that seem to show up every other week.
Knock, knock, knock.
Giving up, I stepped out into the hallway. We have a frosted glass window on the door, so whoever is at the door can tell when someone is in the hallway. There's no hiding once they've spotted you. I walked to the door, turned off the alarm, unlocked the door and opened it. A rather tall man with a crease in his nose was standing there, a smaller guy (Oriental of some sort -- I didn't get a good enough look at him to determine his nationality) standing behind him. I noticed the little book opened in his hand right away (I'm observant that way). It looked Bible-ish.
"Good evening, sir," the big guy with the creased nose said. "How are you this evening?"
"I'm fine. How are you?" I didn't care how he was. I had a feeling I knew what was coming next.
He looked down at his book, and I realized it was open to somewhere in the Book of Matthew.
"I'm sure you've said these words to yourself many times," Mr. Creased Nose said. And then he was off quoting a passage from Matthew.
"Dude, I'm atheist!" I exclaimed, cutting him off. Now it's not too often that I would use the word "exclaimed" when describing something someone said, but I really did exclaim in this case. I was surprised and appalled that he was at my door trying to read Bible passages to me.
"Oh, sir, we respect all beliefs," the guy said. Somehow I doubted that. "Do you not believe because of all the suffering in the world?"
"It's because I don't believe. There's no truth in that book. Why do you believe?" The question was accusatory, as it was meant to be. I felt my anger rising, but I held it in check.
"Because there's evidence--"
"That," I said, pointing at the Bible in his hand, "is not evidence."
"Well, what about creation?" he asked me.
"Evolution," I said. To me, that's all the answer there is. God didn't create man. Man created God to give himself a sense of purpose.
"There is scientific evidence that disproves evolution," he said.
"No, there's not," I said. Scientifically, you can't prove something, but once it's disproved, the theory or hypothesis is out the door. Nobody has disproved evolution. The only disproof that exists is faith in creation, a concept I have considered bullshit since before I became an atheist.
The guy with the creased nose insisted that there was, and that he had some documents in his bag that would show me that proof.
"Would you like me to leave them with you?" he asked.
"No," I said. What were the chances this guy was toting around actual evidence disproving evolution from a respectable scientist? I figured it was somewhere between "squat" and "not a chance in hell."
"Thank you for your time, sir. Have a good night." He stepped away and made his way down the driveway. I hadn't thought I would actually want to watch the newly-CGIed Star Wars, but this Christian spammer had just made that happen. I closed the door and went back to the movie.
// posted by Chris @ 8:51 AM 
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