I personally identify with this story:
We were wound pretty tight, the lot of us. We were Christians and we had it together. We knew our doctrine inside and out, and nobody could tell us anything different. And if we encountered one of those worldly, paganish people, such as a Southern Baptist, or – heaven forfend – a Roman Catholic priest, we avoided him to keep from polluting ourselves. We were God’s chosen, after all.
I know something about fundamentalists, because I was one. I didn’t know that until much later, after God had graciously delivered me from that nonsense, but we were indeed wound tight.