While We’re At It, Let’s Put Fred Phelps In The Box He Should Never Have Left

So, I hear our national nemesis, Fred Phelps, is gearing up to protest the funerals of the people slain by Arizona Jared.

I must ask at this time what Arizonans have done to bring this much stupid into their borders, but I guess we can narrow it down to Jan Brewer for her utterly incompetent governance. I don’t know what kind of patronage is going on down there that they can put a sea dragon in charge of a desert, but someone had better figure it out soon.

Now they have Fred Phelps on their hands. It’s the kind of stupid that might rip a hole in the space-time continuum for a second or two, and a tumbleweed might wander in and we would never know.  All anyone would know is that there are six assassinations and Fred Phelps in the same area.

Yo, Arizona, what is up out there? What are you, being held hostage? All I can say is that if you have tickets to leave, make them one-way.

Anyway, I have just watched Fred’s “report” on the Westboro website. He’s got these little rainbow pics coming up next to his head in TV news style with little buttfucking stickpeople flashing back and forth.

How Fred does this without laughing I will never know. Then again, I don’t know how many takes it took for Fred to get serious. I’d have been fired, I wouldn’t have the same iron temper of conviction that Fred Phelps has. I mean, I would love to think that this a put-on, but sadly, it is not. No pranks should be carried so far as to make a victims’ family be more distressed than they already are. So we can rule out prank.

No, it is religious righteousness that has gone out of its fucking gourd. This is what happens when you read the Bible all the time, and believe everything in it. I don’t know about you, but this makes me very uncomfortable and I do not want to hear any news locally about someone burning birds on a foil-covered workbench.

Now: Arizona Jared has some friends now, another group of dribbling simians who think the time has come to remove the moneychangers from the temple. I mean damn, I agree, but I’m going to vote, not burn down the gymnasium. I’ll wear a button, but not throw firecrackers at people who look at me funny. This is the difference between a guy like me, who generally hates the public, and these other characters. I’ll think bad shit. They’ll do it.

One of us is doing a healthy thing.

If you’ve watched Phelps and his communiques, which I recommend to all of you just once so you can have a good laugh or wonder what the world is coming to, your choice of course, it’s your brain and I can’t tell it what is real and what isn’t.

Fred Phelps, obviously, has no class at all. I have no idea what ass-raping, sheep-blowing  mountain citadel he came from, but for now all I can say is that he has no class.

However, Fred has been given the gift of gab, and the gift of presence. I guess years of inbreeding gives you a tough skin. This guy makes Charles Manson laugh, that’s how crazy Fred Phelps is. Charlie would say, “and I’m in jail? Damn, I was jokin’ half the time I said crazy shit”.

So anyway, what he says in his missives is that the wars we engage in are wrong, and that God shall continue to send the berserk to kill the unrighteous.

Now some of you might think, well, Fred is just like us. We think the wars are wrong. We hope shitty people get what they deserve someday. That gives me pause, at least, to know that I have something in common with a guy who probably makes his own daughter fellate him. Where we are prone to diverge a bit is the method with which we believe these things come about. Most of them are incorrect, because if there were any such thing as a god or instant karma, Fred Phelps would probably go through each circle of hell for 20 years, and sent to the final pit where the Phelpses can love themselves so much they can eat each other, but I must ask the devil for one favor; that they have to have themselves served to each other on dinner plates full of ipecac. I mean forever. If the devil exists, he shall do me this one kindness because he knows that I am sending him a good one- a false prophet and a traitor, a pimp and a seducer all in one.

Sadly, I am not the devil, for I could do worse. Maybe. I don’t have much love for torture, but as long as the devil thinks it’s deserved, who the hell am I to defy Old Scratch?

In the meantime, I suggest the pranksters, wherever they may be, to get cracking on this family. I’m afraid the gays kissing will not bug them, you’re just telling them what they are against. No, no.

Pranking. Somebody, for the love of God, prank them. The one thing the righteous cannot abide is embarrassment for very long, and if they can, they will look mighty funny while they do their thing.

That’s all you can do to that family: make it cry. They need it.