Hate is a word I try not to use often. It’s just such an absolute definitive word to describe feelings that, as someone who tries to be a decent person as often as I can, I simply attempt to avoid using.
But not today—I hate the Westboro Baptist Church and all the vile, deplorable, disgusting, wretched, bottom-feeding vermin that attend that church.
I’m not even sure the proper adjectives even exist to truly convey the disdain I hold for these people.
As a Christian, I fight the urge to wish ill will on anyone, even if they’ve wronged me in some way—but these are creatures I view closer to parasites feeding on ignorance and hate than I do anything that resembles a human being.
And while I might not wish anything bad to happen to someone, that doesn’t mean I would feel bad if something happened to the followers of the Westboro Baptist Church.
If these “things” (I refuse to call them human) were to be shoved into the largest hive of bees the world has even seen, then tossed into a pile of rotting salmon, followed by a swift kick down a hill covered in broken glass, right into a pit of starving grizzly bears—I doubt many would blink an eye.
Heck, millions would probably pay to witness it happen.
To call them ignorant would be an insult to the truly ignorant, who are geniuses compared to these piles of human excrement.
The way at which these “things” go out of their way to prey on those at their most vulnerable, exploiting the most tragic of events, just displays the kind of sad and pathetic existence these “things” live.
Even as I write this, trying to wrap my mind around my feelings towards these creatures—I truly can’t put into words what I feel.
I can only describe it as a feeling in my stomach that begins to grow — a mix of anger, sickness and rage — that makes me realize that I must never be around these “things.”
The restraint those have shown who’ve stood in opposition, formed blockades or protested against them — to not violently attack these creatures — is something I’m not sure I would have.
And to think of those who’ve lost loved one, seeing these parasites show up to protest the funerals…
I really don’t know how they handle it. If I lost a loved one and those creatures showed up to protest the funeral—I don’t think there’s anything that exists on this planet which could restrain me from trying to rip those people apart.
As a Christian I believe in an afterlife and I believe there’s a special part of Hell, located at its deepest bowels, reserved for followers of the Westboro Baptist Church.
This is the first time I’ve wrote anything about them, and will probably be the last since they’re just not worth anybody’s time. But I just had to get this off my chest.
And I know one thing for certain. I hope I live my life to the point where at its conclusion—these bottom-feeders would show up to protest my funeral.
Because that probably means I did something right.
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