Calling in markers

I am morally bound not to hate anyone. Of the greatest commandments Jesus detailed, loving your neighbor is second only to loving God.

So, really, hating people is not on my list of allowable things to do. I’m not even really supposed to wish that I could hate people.

But if I could, and if I did, of all the folks in the world to choose from, the Rev. Fred Phelps would without a doubt be up at the top of the list, a shiny gold star pounded through is forehead with a sledgehammer.

I don’t have the stomach to reference Phelps’ past shenanigans, though you’ve probably heard of them. The official page of his organization, and of the Westboro Baptist Church, is regularly moved from ISP to ISP, since anyone with the least bit of decency can’t stand to host him. Just do a Google search. You’ll find plenty of horrid grist for the mill.

Or you can read this particularly charming story from Wyoming.

Rev. Fred Phelps and his Westboro Baptist Church of Topeka, Kan., announced plans Thursday to erect a monument in Casper’s City Park.
The monument would be made of marble or granite, stand 5 to 6 feet in height, with a heavy bronze plaque bearing the face of slain University of Wyoming student Matthew Shepard and an inscription reading “MATTHEW SHEPARD, Entered Hell October 12, 1998, in Defiance of God’s Warning: ‘Thou shalt not lie with mankind as with womankind; it is abomination.’ Leviticus 18:22,” a letter from the Westboro Baptist Church signed by Phelps sent to the city of Casper states.
The church plans to place the monument in City Park because the park is already home to a Ten Commandments monument donated to the city by the Fraternal Order of the Eagles in 1965. […] According to the ruling made by the 10th Circuit Court of Appeals in the case Summum v. City of Ogden, any city that displays a Ten Commandments monument on public property must also allow monuments espousing the views of other religions or political groups on that same property.

Which, of course, includes the perversion of Christianity that Phelps oozes from the blackened pit of his dead soul.

(But I don’t hate him. Really, I don’t.)

The Casper City Council is split on what to do. Some want the Decalogue moved off of the city property, perhaps given to a local church. Others want to sell the park land to a private concern, so that it no longer qualifies as state espousing of religion.

Still others basically say, “Let ’em come,” hintnig broadly (if with dubious ethics) that any monument such as is proposed would very quickly be vandalized to ruin. Said one councilman:

“From a pure fiscal standpoint, I don’t know why anyone would want to spend that type of money on something that I don’t believe would last a week before somebody in this community destroys it. And I don’t think it is our responsibility to provide 24-7 security for this.”

For what it’s worth, this is the sort of mess you get into when you start letting the state dabble in religion — and, thus, open itself to dabblers of all sorts of religions, including the travesty of Christ’s message which is the “Reverend” Phelps’ brand of bile.

(I don’t hate him. Really. I … well, I can’t truthfully say I feel sorry for him. I … um … hope he gets a chance very, very, very soon to discuss this in person with Christ. Really. A very long, long, long talk. Yeah, that’s the ticket.)

Phelps promises that if he can’t put his monument in the town square, he’ll see if there’s some private property in town he can buy and plant it on.

Which is, of course, his right.

But, as much as I dislike seeing discourse curtailed, not to mention destruction of private property … well, I don’t know as I’d be terribly bothered if someone did smash the thing into rubble. As many times as was necessary to bankrupt Rev. Phelps.

Hell, I might even consider a road trip …

(via Blinne)