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. . . It IS, after all... designed to sell Kleenex tissues. I think tears of pride and joy would have been sufficient to sell the idea AND the product -- and back off from the personal anguish and pain that a few of those people were obviously experiencing. Weddings, graduations, even watching movies would achieve the same purpose. . . . I may be a little biased right NOW. I was sitting in one of the main outdoor bus terminals in Tucson, waiting to go to work (I'm pretty sure it was this Sunday as opposed to Saturday) about 9 AM when four young men approach the terminal from a nearby diner parking lot -- all dressed in slacks and a dress shirt (though not the usual black pants/white shirt garb that's an instant giveaway). They split up and approached people individually where they were waiting for their buses (the one who approached me held out and offered some sort of pamphlet as he approached... and I forcefully but civilly said, "No, thank you" and he moved on to more likely territory... . ...which was a middle-aged Hispanic woman about 15-20 feet away. They spoke for a few minutes, he remaining standing... and though I couldn't hear the vast majority of what was being said, she started weeping and was eventually calling him "Padre" over and over (though he seemed FAR too young to have been a priest or a full-fledged minister of any sort. He gave no comfort, but started this monotone spiel seemingly directed AT rather than to her -- though I couldn't make out the words, it sounded exactly like what I've heard when religious proselytizers go on automatic pilot -- no longer talking but reciting at a breakneck pace without any kind of inflection or... seemingly... thought involved. . He left her wiping at her tears a few minutes after that -- never having offered any comfort at all that I could see. . . . It was pretty disgusting. . . .
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