*Author’s note: Click on the bolded words throughout this post for links to related video clips.

So what if I came knocking?
Knock, knock, knock
Knock, knock, knocking, hey yeah
And kick, kick, kick
What if I cam knocking
On your front porch tonight?

John Mellenkamp, What if I Came Knocking?

I work very hard for my money and my leisure time so when I’m not at work, I do not want to be bothered.  I’m annoyed by people all week, so the last thing I want when I am chilling in front of the TV, the computer, with my familly, or with a good  book, is to hear a knock on the door or the chime of my doorbell, unless it is Publisher’s Clearinghouse with a one of those over sized prop checks the size of my car,






or Jessica Alba


asking me to go away with her for the weekend – for two reasons:

 1. Duh, she’s hot, 

2. She’s bright enough to know that Bill O’Reilly is an a-hole, and confident enough to say it publicly.

However, I am never lucky enough to have a front door visit from either the Clearing House or Jessica. No, these unwelcome front door visits are always solictors.

First of all, the economy is in the tank and getting worse every day, so I have no disposable income. I didn’t even have disposable income when times were good. 

More importantly, if I am going to by a product or service, I am going to do it on the Internet, or in person with a legitimate business. Does anyone who isn’t a time traveler from form the pre-color TV era buy anything at their front door anymore?  This solicitation situation has   gotten out of control.

They come after dark now and sometimes it is reminiscent of the Night of The Living Dead.  Let me illustrate: A week or so ago, one of these solicitors came.  I looked out the peep hole because it was after dark and I wasn’t expecting anyone with any kind of social etiquette at that hour, but I crossed my fingers for Jessica, or the over sized check just in case. I saw someone with a spray bottle of some type of cleaner and a washcloth. That is all I focused on, because you know everyone looks like an organ grinder’s monkey





through those peep holes, so there’s no need to try to get a safety read on a person’s face. I shouted through the door – “No Thanks, I’m not interested.”  The solicitor replied with “Bless you,” and left. I thought  that I was safe for the night, but a few minutes later, someone rang my doorbell again – not a polite soft tap “hope your not sleeping ” ring of the doorbell, but a rapid succession of multiple machine gun DING DONGS – the kind reserved for, “I cut my foot off with the lawn mower and I’m bleeding all over your front porch” situations.  I got up from the couch again. Still, in the back of my mind  I was harboring a small hope that Jessica REALLY was desperate for my company- but no, it was one of the spray bottle fairies again. I looked through the peep hole and there was a group of them lurking awkwardly in my yard and driveway like Amway zombies. I yelled again through the door, I’m Not interested!  Someone already came by!”  This person had the nerve to shout back, “When?”

Like it makes a difference. If I wasn’t inerested at some past moment, what makes them think I would be interested at that time? I can go to the store and buy a bottle of  Windex myself. I don’t need a stranger cleaning my kids’ face prints  and boogers off the window.  

I yelled back ,”5 minutes ago!” and that seemed to do the trick.  The  solicitor said “Thanks.” and stumbled away in the darkness with the rest of the bottle carrying zombies.

What’s worse is that some solictiors that show up on my doorstep are not just selling tangible unnecessary products and services, but they also try to sell me their non-tangilble unnecessary products and services like salvation via their religion.

If  there is a God and he wants to talk to me, I am sure he  can get a hold of my my cell number. If he wants to call me on my landline, I’m in the book. Not The Book, but the phone book. Oh well, if He’s omniscient like they say, He will know which book. I don’t think He is  going to send  two bicycle riding Joe Friday look-alikes to convince me to sit in a building full of a temporarily, mindless group of overdressed, hypocritical strangers to communicate with Him when he can just give me a ring or shoot me an e-mail. You know He has got to have the best Internet service available. 

Don’t come to my door to recruit me into your flock, or to save me from my “evil ways.”  Don’t waste my time, or your own by even walking up my driveway. If you do,  I will respond by reciting the gospel according to George Carlin.

The bottom line is, door-to-door profits/prophets are not welcome at my front door. Just so there is no misunderstanding, I think I am going to post this sign at my front door to keep the zombie peddlers away.


 Jessica Alba, and Publisher’s Clearing House, of course can disregard.



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