Dear Ole Fred the Lunatic

I just watched a documentary on YouTube about Westboro Baptist Church. It's that cult of a church in Topeka, Kansas which is headed by that ghastly pastor of theirs, Fred Phelps. I have always been amazed at dear ole Fred. Perhaps stunned is a better word, as in stunned in disbelief. My mind is made numb with the dribble this disgusting, wretch of a human being spouts on a daily basis. Just search YouTube for an interview with him, and you'll see a sad, pitiful old man, an old man who doesn't have enough sense to know that he doesn't have any sense.

There are those who feel sorry for dear ole Fred. The reason for their sympathy comes from the obvious fact that dear ole Fred's engine is not firing on all cylinders. It doesn't take too much inspection to discover this fact, since dear ole Fred is nothing more than a raving lunatic who claims divine revelation from a celestial, supernatural being. This celestial being tells dear ole Fred the world is soon coming to an end, and it's dear ole Fred's job to go tell all the homosexuals they're going to hell and to protest the funerals of those homosexuals and various other people. We are not privy to the conversations dear ole Fred has with this celestial being, but said being evidently thinks it is most appropriate for dear ole Fred to put tacky signs on sticks and march around chanting mindless, idiotic phrases. This, of course, is all done in the honor and glory of the celestial being.

I, however, don't feel sorry for the lunatic in the slightest. I actually get quite a lot of satisfaction from imagining to beat the complete shit out of dear ole Fred. I get an odd sense of joy from envisioning the look on dear ole Fred's face as my fist connects with his left temple and he staggers and finally collapses to the floor. I see this in somewhat Darwinian terms. I, as a homo sapien, have a natural instinct to protect myself from harm. The lunatic espouses views about how he wants to see people die, and about how he enjoys the thought of people screaming in a place of eternal torment. These beliefs are harmful and draconian, and every emotional fiber in my body recoils at the thought of them. Thus, it is perfectly understandable why anyone would want to bring violence upon this man and his ilk.

However, my philosophy of non-aggression reigns in my natural Darwinian instincts. I have to exert quite a lot of effort to put my emotions at bay in this situation. Believe me, I hate it quite a lot. Yes, even dear ole Fred has the right to be a lunatic, so long as he isn't aggressing against others while on his lunatic Safari.

The beliefs and desires of dear ole Fred are the ravings of a madman, of a psychopath. As Christopher Hitchens has said, such a man should not be in a position of authority over anyone. Instead, he should be out on the streets with a cardboard sign and selling pencils from a plastic cup. So far, dear ole Fred's got the sign part under control; we just need find him a plastic cup and some pencils.