Years ago, my brothers (and eventually myself) used to play those Make Your Own Adventure games, by Steve Jackson, Ian Livingston and Joe Dever. I was especially fond of the
Lonewolfand
Sorcery adventures.
One day a close friend and neighbour of my brother borrowed the Sorcery books. His mother was a staunch Catholic. Nevermind that, way too kind: she was a crazy, uptight, uber-religious bitch (who allegedly beat her son, too, when he was little [whereas she did not even discipline her younger daughter] and then had him committed for a few months because he had "anger issues", where he came back more screwed up in the head than before... but I'm going off on a tangeant here) and even my mother, who rarely said anything unkind about anyone, didn't like her very much.
I'm going to let you guess what happened when she stumbled upon these dreaded, evil tomes of foul black magic. Yep, she tried to have her son cut contact with my brother, and complained to her husband that he was giving him "spellbooks" who'd teach him how to practice "witchcraft". Thankfully, the boy's father still had a shred of common sense, and just laughed it off and said, "dear, those are
game books, for children!", so it didn't escalate.
But when my brother told me this anecdote years ago, I could not fathom how anyone could be so awfully irrational and deluded, let alone still believe in sorcery. I was sure that even the Pope could not be so Catholic.
Then I learned about the USA and people like Jack Chick and the mother in this story, and how my brother's friend's mother was not a single isolated nutcase but there were others like her... and a little part of me died. Alas!