The Mormons were out in full force the other day, trying to convert my gentrifying Italian neighborhood to their weird Jesus cult. I saw them going to work on this large, aged lady who sits outside her house most nice days with an even more aged lady I assume is her mother. The Mormons were trying to get her to take a pamphlet. Apparently if you take a pamphlet, they take one tiny step closer to Heaven. But if you don't take a pamphlet, they remain dangerously close to hell. The large, aged lady was having none of it. "Let's just say we have Jesus in common and leave it at that," she said.

The Mormons looked dejected. Their little black "Church of Latter Day Saints," name tags drooped on their matching white polo shirts. The large, aged lady returned to fanning herself and widened her gaze past the Mormon interlopers to the street she surveys all day long. When I pass by her and wave, she nods, as if to say, "your existence on this street does not please me, young gentrifier, but I register your presence and grudgingly accept it." As I passed by the large, aged lady that day, I not only waved, but grinned widely, as if to say, "Yeah! Fuck those brainwashed freaks who have come from America's heartland to force their weird Jesus cult of diluted beer upon us! They won't get into Heaven by converting the inhabitants of OUR street to their weird Jesus cult!"