It seems only right that the day Spring finally arrived, was also the day that Fred Phelps finally departed.
Fred Phelps — the founding pastor of a Kansas church known for its virulently anti-gay protests at public events, including military funerals — has died, the church said Thursday.
And I must admit that my first reaction was to put on my party tuque, turn up the music, and prepare to kickoff five days of wild celebrations.
Because I feel about his death like Christopher Hitchens felt about the death of that other anti-gay bigot Jerry Falwell.
If you gave him an enema you could bury him in a match box.
For who could forget that ghastly old man.
Or his bestial anti-gay bigotry.
Or the way he tormented others.
Under Phelps’ leadership, Westboro members have preached that every calamity, from natural disasters to the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting in Newtown, Connecticut, is God’s punishment for the country’s acceptance of homosexuality. Phelps had advocated for gays and lesbians to be put to death.
And of course, I can’t forget how five years ago when Freddy and his cult were threatening to visit Canada, how much fun I had mocking them . . .
Sending them rude messages
And driving them crazy . . .
So I was really looking forward to celebrating Freddy’s departure.
But then I saw that all kinds of gay people were saying today that we shouldn’t celebrate his death, we should be better than him.
There is no better evidence that love triumphs over hatred than the statement offered this week by Thomas Witt, executive director of Equality Kansas.
“This is our moment as a community to rise above the sorrow, anger and strife he sowed, and to show the world we are caring and compassionate people who respect the privacy and dignity of all,” Witt wrote.
Which at first drove me wild eh? Because I’m not the kind of guy who likes to let bigots get away with ANYTHING.
But then I had to admit they were right. *Sigh*
We must be better than them.
And Freddy was such a loser he actually helped the cause of LGBT freedom, by making all homophobes look bad, or as crazy as he was.
So I was prepared to let it go, and put my party tuque back in the closet.
Until I read this story about the prodigal son, the one good Phelps, and how Freddy used to beat his children.
You know Freddy the MANIAC . . .
When we were younger it was a barber strap. That thing got so shredded at the ends that it would wrap around the sides of our legs and tear the skin. It was kind of like a cat o’ nine tails. When I was about 8 or 9 he introduced us to a Mattock handle, which is a farming instrument or tool that you use to pull up roots, and it’s got an axe head on one end and a hoe head on the other end. It’s big. You know, take a baseball bat, add maybe 30 percent to that.
(Q) What, he’d have you bend over a chair or what did he do?
Yeah, and then he would beat us anywhere from the lower part of our back down to behind our knees and he swung it hard, he swung it like a baseball bat. And oftentimes what would happen is there would be eight or 10 strokes and then he would go into a 10- or 15-minute screaming session with what we were doing wrong and how it was defying God and that we were evil.You know all of these religious-based threats and insults to the children and then he’d go back to the beating and by then the skin has stretched tight from the damage. So the next blows would just split the skin and so you’d get blood.
And after that I had to take everything back.
And tell the good gays that I’m proud of them for remaining so noble despite the vicious way they are attacked, and how long they have had to fight for the most basic human rights. I really am. They are amazing.
But sadly, although some of my friends call me Saint Simon, or in French Saint Cinnabon, I can’t be THAT good eh?
So I do have this last message for that bully, that beast, that LOSER . . .
I am putting on my happy tuque after all.
I will play a few gay classics like “Ding Dong The Bigot’s Dead.”
I will party like crazy, if I make it to the weekend.
And because I know he would have HATED it.
This song is for Freddy . . .
Yup. Hooray for the gay people. And all the victims of the hate that kills.
Another bigot bites the dust.
But the struggle continues . . .