To the passionate evangelist who was passing out pamphlets with "God's word" at First Saturday in Santa Ana, you might try lightening up a little; it just may help your message of "love." When you refused our effort to return the pamphlet to you, and then my wife tore it up while looking around for a trash can (didn't want to litter), you went ballistic. You tried to describe exactly how the lake of hell fire awaiting us would feel: "Imagine a big pot of boiling water, like when you cook pasta, and you stick your hand down into it." When I replied how ugly and violent your beliefs sounded, you told me, "I am telling you this out of love for you." When my friend who had just walked up said, "Dude, Jesus is dead," your REALLY scary friend suddenly appeared and things almost got out of hand. But that's another story. . . . We did a lot of stuff that night, saw some friends, enjoyed some nice food and drinks, and had a lot of fun, but what sticks in our minds is the ugliness we experienced with you.
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