Shopping in the House of the Holy

WARNING - the following is bound to offend everyone in some way.

I was in the local Quik-E-Mart yesterday, buying lottery tickets and generally abusing the Sabbath. There was a mother-daughter there, at least the elder a Christian fundamentalist, the younger dressed in one of those skort-like things, except the pants hems were to her shoes, like skousers. The girl, Grade 8 - 10 age, was cute enough, except she was dressed like a fucking clown.
The skousers had straight legs, big like bells, except the same all the way down.
Denim, and I am telling you there is nothing quite so cute as a girl swaddled in about six yards of shapeless navy cotton.
I have no guess as to why the skouser legs were so outsized. They were like those old-guy suit-pants, big enough for another guy to stand in there with you. Come in handy for a Masonic initiation, plenty of room for the stuff they have to keep secret. All the rest of the rites are dog-and-pony stuff, a smokescreen for the rampant buggery that is at the heart of the "brotherhood".
Well, shit.
Mama's faith must be pretty strong, subject a little girl to the mockery and derision attendant with dressing like a circus chimp.
The bible (allegedly) hasn't added anything new in the last 2000 years. So where in hell do these fuckwits dig this shit up? There can't be much stuff more submoronic that a 2000-year-old dress code. Except snake-handlers. Those people take the whole cake. If one were of a rational ilk, wouldn't one be moved to ask if one guy did this and got really, really lucky, or if, just perhaps, the story might be the least bit apocryphal, to point up the strength of faith?
Snake-handlers are easy to spot - the only people in town with fewer fingers than butchers and sawyers. You find them at little bandbox churches in places like Hickfuck, W. Va, Noteeth, Tenn, and Sisterwife, Mo.
So where did they find this half-shit clothing prescription? The attire is not in any way traditional ("And the soldiers cast lots for Christ's Levi's"), so, what up?
Why don't they stop pansy assing and put her in a burqua?
Oh no, that would be extreme. It's so hard to attract attention when Mom's complexion is the color of cigar ash and the little girl is dressed in hand-me-downs from her 640-pound aunt.
Okay, it's so very difficult for me to be judgemental or critical, so I'll have to stretch out a little here: since this dress code can only be found in the margin notes of some jughead hillbilly's O. T.
why strictly adhere to it and yet ignore one of the Big X? You can find these listed in any courthouse south of the Ohio River, and all of them include "Remember to Keep Holy the Sabbath".
Uhm, yesterday was Sunday, and these living testaments to the Glory of the Lord were keeping the sabbath holy at the goddam Mini-Mart.
Religion: it's all about convenience.