The 'How Many Times Did I Tell You?' Issue
I don't know if I've ever mentioned this, but my father was a pastor. He went to Bible Seminary once upon a time, back in the bad old days. That makes me a PK, a preacher's kid. These have a reputation amongst the aficionados of disorganized religion. Many PKs have become famous for their bizarre behavior and law-avoiding ways. Others have become avowed atheists or agnostics or hairdressers. Some have even become rock stars. But the song remains the same. People who know your dad (or mum, in some strange cults) is a minister expect some kind of special, um, something from you. Like your mum (or dad) was a virgin and your pastor parent was white with wings and carried an olive branch for a toothpick... All sarcasm aside, there is a definite discrimination involved. Of course, given what the reputation is, there are also benefits when some holy roller (and they are not using papers) gets in your face and demands to know if you 'KNOW THE SAVIOUR', and you smirk into their moon face and tell them you are a PK. Then they either knod sagely (or rhubarbly) and cut you some slack or they run quickly away, making the symbol for warding off evil with their suddenly palsied fingers.
One of the things that those of us who were blessed in the uterus are stricken with is a sense of deja yawn at the repetitiveness of a preacher's sermons. It's like old rock and roll fans showing up at the same club every Sat nite to hear the same old song sanged froid by the same old fried singer. I mean, if the 'converted' got the message the first time, then they would be out saving souls instead of sitting on their bums taking notes from the same lesson, wouldn't they?