Theocratic parental horror stories

by vikesgirl101 22 Replies latest watchtower child-abuse

• 

  rebel8

  After I left the Borg, I was called to a jc for not attending meetings. I had a male friend who played softball.

  The elders, who would not be dissuaded from their misconception that this friend was my betrothed. They informed me that *all* softball players have groupies with whom they have sex. I will just end up returning to the fold, broken-hearted, cherryless, damaged goods which no brother would want.

  I could not make them comprehend that this man was playing softball with his friends in his free time, in one of those teams sponsored by a local pub--not a minor or major league professional ball player. Dumbasses.

  The elders kept saying they *all* have groupies and *all* have sex with them. I LOLd. I wonder if they write down the LOL in the jc notes!

  I started my journey out of the Borg thinking they were partially nuts, and ended it with that gem, knowing they were full-on nutjobs with no grasp on reality.
• 

  BluesBrother

  Perhaps with parental advice this from the Mother Organization, it is no wonder ......

  w76 pp330/331 - The life story of Porfirio Caicedo, of Colombia

  "I recall a form of punishment that worked effectively on Horacio, my fifth son, when the literal rod failed to do so. He was about eight years old. He was too insistent in associating with undesirable neighborhood boys. So I had him dressed in one of his sister’s dresses. Not daring to be seen with that on, he stayed in the house and off the street.
  Once, noting an impudent streak developing in my third and sixth sons, Efraín and Cicerón, I decided to send them to their grandfather’s farm. The boys were about eighteen and fifteen years old at the time. As soon as they arrived, my father-in-law knew they were being punished. It was a source of joy for him to put his grandchildren to work. An energetic worker himself, a lazy or idle person vexed him no end. The boys had to get up every morning at five o’clock and then contend with snakes and wasps and blistered hands while working in the fields in the equatorial sun. A month of that served exceptionally well to enhance their appreciation of how they should act around home.
  More recently I remember asking four of the boys to get their hair cut. To my way of thinking, it was too long. Efraín, the eldest of the four, was then about twenty. A few days later they still had not gone, so I said to them: “Efraín, Rafael, Horacio, Cicerón, come on! You’re going with me.” “Very well, papa.” They did not know what I had in mind—until we arrived at the barbershop. To the barber I said: “Please do me the favor of cutting the hair of these boys as if you were going to cut mine—short, good and short!”
• 

  divadiow

  Perhaps with parental advice this from the Mother Organization, it is no wonder ......

  w76 pp330/331 - The life story of Porfirio Caicedo, of Colombia

  "I recall a form of punishment that worked effectively on Horacio, my fifth son, when the literal rod failed to do so. He was about eight years old. He was too insistent in associating with undesirable neighborhood boys. So I had him dressed in one of his sister’s dresses. Not daring to be seen with that on, he stayed in the house and off the street.
  Once, noting an impudent streak developing in my third and sixth sons, Efraín and Cicerón, I decided to send them to their grandfather’s farm. The boys were about eighteen and fifteen years old at the time. As soon as they arrived, my father-in-law knew they were being punished. It was a source of joy for him to put his grandchildren to work. An energetic worker himself, a lazy or idle person vexed him no end. The boys had to get up every morning at five o’clock and then contend with snakes and wasps and blistered hands while working in the fields in the equatorial sun. A month of that served exceptionally well to enhance their appreciation of how they should act around home.
  More recently I remember asking four of the boys to get their hair cut. To my way of thinking, it was too long. Efraín, the eldest of the four, was then about twenty. A few days later they still had not gone, so I said to them: “Efraín, Rafael, Horacio, Cicerón, come on! You’re going with me.” “Very well, papa.” They did not know what I had in mind—until we arrived at the barbershop. To the barber I said: “Please do me the favor of cutting the hair of these boys as if you were going to cut mine—short, good and short!”

  *twitches*