liar liar pants on fire

This weekend I watched the 2007 documentary America’s Most Hated Family, which is about the Westboro Baptist cult. You know, the assholes who picket soldiers’ funerals (claiming that God is punishing America because of its acceptance of homosexuality) and hardware stores that carry Swedish vacuums (because, evidently, Swedish people like the gays) (plus, vacuums have that long sucker hose, taunting you to stick something in it against your better, Christian judgment, and then your wife walks in wondering why in the world you’d be vacuuming at 1 in the morning and she sees you, well, part of you inside the vacuum and you’re watching Chelsey Lately which is, well, come on, so she grabs the kids and goes to her mom’s house and her mom finally tells her that she always thought there was something a bit “off” about you ever since the wedding when you kissed the Hispanic man who brought the rented tables and chairs and you said it was because you were so happy but you didn’t kiss the woman who brought the flowers and she was way more attractive than the tables and chairs guy and then you have to get divorced so you just stay home and hang out with the vacuum but the vacuum eventually grows bored with your attention and spends most of its day looking out the window longingly).

What I’m saying is: vacuums are nothing but trouble.

Back to the documentary. In the minivan on the way to picket a soldier’s funeral, the documentarian, Louis Theroux of the BBC, asked Phelps’ daughter if it was possible the solider was a righteous man who didn’t deserve this sort of treatment. At this point in the film, Shirley has said a number of things that would be laughable if they weren’t so hateful, rage-filled and, frankly, insane. Shirley responds,  “Not a chance, poopie pants.”  She’s a character right out of a Stephen King novel.

Though her usage of such a childish retort was an odd juxtaposition to the bile she’s usually spewing, the mention of “poop” was on message. The Phelpses have a real poop and asshole fetish, claiming that various groups eat their own poop or that of others and are driven by “desires of the rectum.” Gramps Phelps needs to just go to the bathroom at an airport and pick up a nervous, tapping senator who’s also in the closet and quit worrying about other people’s assholes.

LINKS

  • Theroux revisited the family a few years later. He found his face on one of their signs.
  • God hates figs.
  • This is like The Onion of religious news. Read the article about Phelps and then click around a bit.

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