Pastor Fred Waldron Phelps is dead. He lived 84 hellish years, during which time he hurled abuse everywhere he went. He had few friends others than his awkward and brow-beaten family. So, as he winds his way to his paradisiacal Shangri-La, I suggest we reflect a moment on the life of this very bizarre and confused old man.
Once upon a time in the 1960s, Phelps was a prominent civil rights lawyer who fervently argued and won cases on behalf of black plaintiffs. He charged around fighting for the rights of those that suffered discrimination. Moreover, he was so esteemed in this capacity that the NAACP awarded him for his work, citing his “steely determination for justice”.
However, even at that this early stage of his life, Phelps’ screws started to loosen.
Suddenly, he decided that god (who may or may not exist) hated homosexuals (who definitely do) and that being gay was the worst possible sin of all (even worse than being a lawyer).
“God hates fags,” he said, “he doesn’t hate blacks.” Theories abound as to where this sudden hatred of homosexuality came from – from the far-fetched idea that Phelps himself was gay, to the much more realistic theory that Phelps himself was gay. But, suddenly, almost from out of nowhere, Phelps the civil rights lawyer becomes Phelps the gay-hating minister.
Leapfrog now to 1969, a year Phelps almost certainly didn’t love. His right to practice is suspended on several counts of professional misconduct (as opposed to unprofessional misconduct?) and ten years later he is disbarred altogether following a most bizarre trial. In it, Phelps verbally attacked a court reporter that didn’t provide papers in a timely fashion, cross-examining her for a week, accusing her of being a slut, introducing testimony from ex-boyfriends and lovers, and accused her of a variety of perverse sexual acts that I just couldn’t even mention here.
Anyway, as a lunatic who ‘hated’ gays and had been thrown out of the semi-lucid legal system on his sore ass, the only sensible course of action for Phelps was to form a band. As he couldn’t sing for wafers, he formed a church charity. And so, on a stormy night when thunder roared and lightning flashed like the teeth of a million hungry gay men, the Westboro Baptist Church was forged.
Now, while some Christian leaders use sex and charm, dark brooding looks and Svengali eyes to win over their supporters (like Joel Osteen) and others just fuck theirs (the rest), Phelps’ unique brand of God-given torture was to picket other people’s events, warning the participants of God’s impending anger in support of Chick-Fil-A being closed on Sundays.
With the help of his extended and equally maniacal family, Phelps’ ministry set off like mosquitoes to disrupt as many military funerals, Gay Pride gatherings, political meetings, university-based ceremonies, Christian gatherings and bar mitzvahs as he could, to shout and scream and be generally anti-gay and bat-shit crazy.
During this incubative time, Phelps developed many of his jocular slogans and his viciously-assaultive views which point to why he had few friends to share a glass of Bud Light with at the White Swallow on a Saturday night.
Phelps always remained a fervent Democrat, running five times in Kansas Democratic Party primaries but never winning (wonder why). He supported Al Gore in the 1988 Democratic Party presidential primary election and endorsed Bill Clinton in 1992, before denouncing Gore as a “famous fag pimp” five years later.
He told Saddam Hussein he was a good guy for being “the only Muslim state that allows the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ to be freely and openly preached on the streets” (what?) and believed George W Bush was a “bible pervert”. To him 9/11 was “the wrath of God, smiting fag America” and this pleased and warmed his dark soul.
He thanked God for the tsunami and (strangely) for the two thousand dead Swedes who he said were “fertilizing the ground over there. You filthy Swedes! You filthy Swedes!”
Regarding the horrific Virginia Tech massacre, he wished there “were thirty-three thousand killed” instead of thirty-three.
Mr. Rogers “gave aid and comfort to homosexuals” and was a “wuss and an enabler of wusses”; George Carlin was now and always had been in hell; Bill O’Reilly was a “demon-possessed messenger of Satan” (harsh, even for Billy); President Barack Obama was the Antichrist who wanted to feed Africa with white babies (in a Swift-esque attempt at redistribution of food stuffs) and Sarah Palin was a mouthy witch (I guess he had to get something right eventually).
But now Phelps is gone. Before dying he had been excommunicated from his church for taking it up the arse one night in Vegas. He only did it once, but once was enough. It was considered “whoremongery and adultery” by his own hand. He’s now off to plunder Gods booty bounty in Heaven, where all the hell-fire firebrand nuts of the faith are welcomed, apparently.
He will be ‘anal’yzed by God and his friends (stop it!); his 84 years of rancor stacked up against Phelps’s own tally of good and evil as he listed them on his website:
- 6801 soldiers that God has killed in Iraq and Afghanistan
- 52,313 pickets conducted by Phelps and his army
- 921 cities that have been visited by Phelps, not including picnics and barbecue lunches
- 1186 weeks that his ministry has held daily pickets
- 69 people whom God has cast into hell since you started reading this article, apparently
- 218,400,000 gallons of oil that God poured in the Gulf, because God pours oil
- $17.51 trillion national debt of doomed America
- 8 people that God saved in the flood
- 16,000,000,000 people that God killed in the flood
- 144,000 Jews that will be saved in these last days (me! me!)
- 0 nanoseconds of sleep that Phelps members lose over your opinions and feelings
And eternity, the amount of time Phelps will burn in his own hell for being a complete and total cunt.