How many Adolph’s or Elvis’s do you know?

You ever notice how many stigmas are attached to certain names.

How many Adolph’s or Elvis’s do you know?

Well why do you think that is?

I think that the person associated with the name resonates so loudly in the human conscious that by invoking their name immediately associates the mind with that one “special” person. With such a strong association, good or bad, it is rather hard for people to get past that.

In other words 1 person has taken that name as their own and no one else can have it. The shoes are just too big to fill.

It can take years, if not decades, for a name to pass through time and be released to the general public again.

Now a new one looms on the horizon.

Fred Phelps.

*shudder*

Just the name makes me feel dirty.

Do you know who this guy is? Course you do. Everybody does.

Google the name and you get nothing but sites about this freakshow.

His main website is “godhatesfags.com” (really? And to think it was still available. Figured that one would have been snatched up already. It’s so catchy!)

To give you a brief synopsis here this nutcase has started his own cult in Topeka Kansas preaching to the world that God hates fags and that soldiers who die fighting for the country he lives in are gonna go to hell. Then has the audacity to picket the funerals of said soldiers. (Yeah Fred, I said cult. You live in a compound of houses surrounded by your followers and don’t let them associate with anyone out of your circle. You and Jimmy Jones, David Koresh need to setup a poker game. You can invite Applewhite but I don’t know how hard it will be to contact him on his spacecraft behind that MMM-bop meteor and that’s gotta be a long distance call anyway. )

First off, who is a funeral for? It is not for the meat lying in the pretty box. Meats don’t care.

Go ahead and pull some ground round outta the freezer and ask it if it wants to be buried.

If you get an answer up your meds.

What I mean to say is the person that WAS in that meaty shell no longer resides there.

Therefore, a funeral is for the ones who are left behind. The ones who now have a hole in their lives that shrinks sometimes, crumbles a bit but never really fills in.

So basically CockbreathFred is spending his time stomping around and shouting epitaphs at people who are sad and are saying good-bye to the meat they loved when it was alive.

Now I don’t even think for a second that ol’ Bendover Fred has both oars in the water.

Oh Hell no.

He has moved his canoe to the volleyball pit and is invading Poland by air in it.

But let’s pretend for a second he does.

Then why would he do this?

Well I am writing about him.

He is on the news. In the papers.

The punch line of a lot of jokes.

Yes Fred you are a joke.

No one REALLY takes you seriously. You are but a loud buzzing horsefly that needs to be swatted. A minor nuisance that will eventually fade away when your last gasp is grasped.

Just think though! You are going to have THOUSANDS of people at your funeral.

Picketing.