Converting People To Islam

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I was sitting in a bar yesterday swapping lies with a coworker. Jim and I go back some years, long before God invented space or time or had any space or time to invent it. He was sipping on Gin with a barmaid on his knee and I was downing a pint of German beer.

The sun was out, the babes were in, and a grand time was had by all. The subject soon turned to marriage. I said to him, Look my friend, you are sixty years old, your looks are going, your vigour is gone, and your wife is doing the Indian next door in positions that acrobatics does not permit. The jig is up. So why not fear Allah my peach and convert to Islam? It will give you inner strength in times of adversity and grant you a front row seat in jannah when, hopefully many long centuries from now, you shuffle off this mortal coil. I will take you to the masjid, intro you to my Somali wadaad, and find you a good Muslima oo si fiican ku raaxeyso.

I was in my dawa'h mode.

He was unsure. Jeez, he said, that's an awful lotta trouble to go for some wet fun. Can't we just hit the brothel? I told him that I can't. It's against my religion.

Jim is a helluva smart guy with an IQ north of your chimney. He knows a hustler when he smells one. I was trying to exploit his marital difficulties for some missionary work like all good hell robbers, and well he knew it. But I was getting nowhere. The sweet affections of the barmaid were too good to surrender for God talk. Her locks were the colour of the rays of the sun, her legs smooth as marble and her cleavage plunged lower than a scuba diver. The competition was hot.

Warya dee illahay kacabso iyo jooji ciyaalsuuqnimado I said. But theological abstractions were too remote from the mounds of flesh on display. I had to give him something tangible to wean him off the seductions of kufr.

I mused and mused and mused. There must be something I could offer him. Nothing. I'm afraid for his spiritual wellbeing. What shall I do my little rabbits?
 

Benjamin

någon :)
I was sitting in a bar yesterday swapping lies with a coworker. Jim and I go back some years, long before God invented space or time or had any space or time to invent it. He was sipping on Gin with a barmaid on his knee and I was downing a pint of German beer.

The sun was out, the babes were in, and a grand time was had by all. The subject soon turned to marriage. I said to him, Look my friend, you are sixty years old, your looks are going, your vigour is gone, and your wife is doing the Indian next door in positions that acrobatics does not permit. The jig is up. So why not fear Allah my peach and convert to Islam? It will give you inner strength in times of adversity and grant you a front row seat in jannah when, hopefully many long centuries from now, you shuffle off this mortal coil. I will take you to the masjid, intro you to my Somali wadaad, and find you a good Muslima oo si fiican ku raaxeyso.

I was in my dawa'h mode.

He was unsure. Jeez, he said, that's an awful lotta trouble to go for some wet fun. Can't we just hit the brothel? I told him that I can't. It's against my religion.

Jim is a helluva smart guy with an IQ north of your chimney. He knows a hustler when he smells one. I was trying to exploit his marital difficulties for some missionary work like all good hell robbers, and well he knew it. But I was getting nowhere. The sweet affections of the barmaid were too good to surrender for God talk. Her locks were the colour of the rays of the sun, her legs smooth as marble and her cleavage plunged lower than a scuba diver. The competition was hot.

Warya dee illahay kacabso iyo jooji ciyaalsuuqnimado I said. But theological abstractions were too remote from the mounds of flesh on display. I had to give him something tangible to wean him off the seductions of kufr.

I mused and mused and mused. There must be something I could offer him. Nothing. I'm afraid for his spiritual wellbeing. What shall I do my little rabbits?
I think you were in the wrong place, I ain't judging:ohno: Try taking him to Muslim conferenor or some kind of religious event. :patrice:
 
I think you're right since it make more sense, I'm not scholar or a sheikh.
Saudi educated "scholars" are worthless. They scare people sway from Islam because of their hateful preaching. Islam should be about love and tolerance for all trousered apes.
Sheikh Bidaar Wanagsan has made more converts in the Red Lion pub than all these unshaven morons.
 
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