I'm at a loss to explain the mixed sentiments being posted on line about the imminent passing of One of The Most Miserable People To Have Ever Lived (OfMMPTHEL), Fred Phelps, wackadoodle and hate-monger who founded the Westboro Baptist Church even though no one had losted it.
As a matter of fact, by the time you read this, he may be dead. If not, read faster, please.
Fred and his (former) flock are exactly we can't have nice things and why if there is a God, S/He is looking down (why do we look up when we say 'heaven'? And where is Heaven if you're Australian in comparison to living on this side of the orb?) and looking at Jesus and going, 'suffered, died and was buried....for these bozos? Seriously?'
We almost had a brush with the Westboro Wingnuts some years back here in Connecticut in the wake of the tragedy in Newtown when Adam Lanza murdered so many innocents and they had huffed and puffed and blustered and bully-pulpited about picketing the memorial service and in general being hateful and hurtful.
As someone who has always advocated for peaceful solutions in confrontational situations mainly because I bruise like old fruit, I was taken aback somewhat, at my own blood thirstiness and near-yearning for violence, at least in the abstract, that these bigots might show up so those with muscle and motivation could interact with them at a more intimate, immediate and cellular level.
Cooler heads (= other than mine) prevailed but I still wonder what kind of a God lets people like this represent the franchise?
Realizing final arrangements are probably still in flux, or a word similar to it but shorter, I'd suggest consideration of a selection from the Randy Newman songbook be included perhaps as part of the recessional or even graveside. It's not catchy, doesn't have much of a beat and, as Fred would surely approve, you can't dance to it. In other words, perfect; right, Said Fred. Not.
-bill kenny
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