Caution Loses Patience With Jehovah's Witnesses

When I was a young teenager, I would occasionally see signs on houses.  The signs read, "No Solicitors."  I always thought that meant that the people who lived there didn't like lawyers.  As I got older and wiser, I was surprised to learn that those signs meant the people who lived there didn't like Jehovah's Witnesses.

I am a homeowner now, and don't think those "No Solicitors" signs are very nice.  Since I am all about being sweet, I have my own notice I am going to put out:

 

Dear Jehovah's Witnesses:
 I am not home.  If my garage door is open and I am standing on my driveway or if my front door accidentally opens, I am not home.  If my children look out the front window and yell, "Mom, someone's here," it is meaningless because I am not here.  If you ring my doorbell once, twice or even your requisite 6 or 7 times, it won't bring me home, nor will it work if you try to fake me out by ringing once and then standing on my porch quietly for 10 or 15 minutes afterward.  When I peek out to see if you're gone and find you still there, I will not be home.  I will not be like my former pastor and invite you in to painstakingly translate a Greek New Testament because I don't have one, I can't read any generation of Greek, and I'm not home, of course.  I am not home so I can't tell your perpetually deaf ears that I am happy in my faith and my church.  Nor can I tell those same deaf ears that I do not want your Watch Tower magazine.  You see, I would never have time to read it because I have never been, nor am I currently, nor will I ever again  - be home.