With disgusting predictability, Fred Phelps’ Westboro Baptist Church will picket the funeral of the victims of the Virginia Tech tragedy.
Not content with interjecting their particular gutterscum rhetoric–shrouded within the protections of the First Amendment–into the solemn moments of grieving mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, wives, lovers, children of this country’s war dead, Phelps and his minions ignominy persists as something quite evil; something quite despicably ugly.
May we be outraged by the unintended consequences of the First Amendment, while, at the same time, gritting out teeth and standing firm in acknowledging the essential worth of First Amendment protections? Of course we can.
But, wouldn’t it feel so good to punch the son-of-a-bitch, Phelps, in his haggard smirk; wouldn’t it just feel so good to… Yes, yes, I’m remembering it now.
When Phelps and crew showed up at the funeral (memorial service) for Matthew Shepard–the twenty-one year old gay student who was beat to death in Laramie, Wyoming in 1998 because of his sexuality–there were those who donned home-made wings of angels–rising high above their shoulders–and they, the angels, interposed themselves between the insensate evil of Phelps’ buffoons and the grieving friends and family of Matthew Shepard?
Yes, of course, that is the promise of the First Amendment. God bless the angels. God damn the evil. And, it will be a higher authority than the First Amendment, who will–can’t help myself here–kick that sorry-assed, dipshit, son-of-a-bitch Phelps straight to hell…bible and all.