Not too many people really do the world a massive favor by dying, but Fred Phelps has accomplished just that. He is finally dead, and I come not to praise him, but to bury him. He was a horribly unpleasant person who may, or may not, have been abusive toward his children, who certainly abused the system that guarantees our liberties, and who, merely by existing, made the world a slightly less wonderful place.
Now he is dead. He died earlier today, and did so estranged from much of his family and possibly from his own church, though there are conflicting messages there. Apparently his daughter posted up something on her Twitter feed last week about how he was a “fag-loving whore” and would be in Hell soon, so that’s pleasant.
I really don’t have too much to say about this guy. But I do have something to say about the media. Ignoring Phelps and his outrageous and stupid behavior was always an option, and it’s often struck me as unfortunate that the media didn’t do that as as often as they should have. He was an attention-seeker, and we all gave him what he wanted. In return, we got a villain so repulsive that I’m sure he was instrumental in moving some people toward the gay rights movement, lest they appear to be like him.
Anyway, the dick is dead. If I believed in a god, I’d be thanking him.