A Sad Waste of Life

Glad I'm Not the First to Make this Comparison

So, on the day of the 2014 vernal equinox, the Reverend Fred Phelps (one of, if not THE most hated men in America) kicked the bucket. Bought the farm. Expired. Became an ex-human. Oh, wait -- maybe not that last one. Seems like he'd already done that to himself a long time ago.

Westboro Baptist started in 1955 as a branch of a small church in Topeka, where Fred Phelps was the assistant pastor. After his promotion to pastor of the new church on the other side of town, Phelps soon cut off all relations with the founding group. In 1964, Phelps earned his Juris Doctorate at Washburn and became a civil rights activist, defeating Jim Crow laws in Kansas. Somewhere along the way, Phelps lost his mind and became a religious fanatic, forcing his views on his family with threats and beatings (according to many who have since left the WBC, including Phelps' son Nate, now an LGBT rights activist in Canada). Disbarred in Kansas in 1979 and in Federal Court ten years later, Phelps and his followers (now mostly just members of his family) began their infamous picketing in 1991. By 2001, everyone knew the Westboro Baptist Church and their message of "God's" hatred of homosexuality. Phelps infamously told talk-show host (and original Tracy Turnblad) Ricki Lake the he "...worshiped her rectum..." after appearing on her show in 1994. Lake reportedly had Phelps forcibly removed from the studio.

But then a wonderful thing happened along the way... people started to hear and see Phelps' message for the lies and hate it was. A spotlight was shone on their bigotry and people took notice and started to rethink their own thoughts on LGBT people. So that was good, I suppose. 

Last year, a sort of coup was staged at WBC. Phelps, ailing and possibly softening his views, was excommunicated and the church elected a group of 8 Elders while ousting Shirley Phelps-Roper as WBC's official spokesperson. These details are just coming to light after it was announced earlier this week that Phelps was near death.

And while some might rejoice at the news of Phelps' death, I can't help but think of the sad waste of time and energy that was his life. If he and his congregation had spent just a tenth of that time and energy helping those in need as they did spreading hatred, the world would be a much better place.  Meanwhile, the WBC (having learned nothing) has announced that it's business and picketing* as usual for the SPLC-identified hate group. And of course, this could be the next step toward drinking the Kool-Aid -- and how sad would that be? There are still children there, being indoctrinated in hatred by fear. So, very sad...

Still, I can't imagine anyone wants to leave this world known for their hateful, hurtful actions, even if they are insane enough to truly believe they are doing the opposite. I'd like to believe that maybe Fred did soften near the end. maybe even felt bad about he'd done, or at least how he'd done it. I'd like to, but I don't. 

Here's what TMZ had to say:

*On a side note - in a purely self-serving move to generate publicity for JTMF's production of The Most Fabulous Story Ever Told, we tried desperately to get WBC to come protest. Sadly, their protest calendar was already full that summer. 

More, anon.
Prospero

Please Drink the Kool-Aid, Already

Fred Phelps and his family still pop up to protest at funerals, plays and pro-LGBT functions whenever and wherever they can. Phelps, now 80 (and hopefully closer to his "reward" than one can hope), is a disbarred lawyer who used to argue for civil rights. These days, he's simply a lunatic fringe preacher who claims all of America's ills are to blame on our tolerance of homosexual behavior. His equally insane daughter Shirley, herself a lawyer, claims that the 'church' and its members are spreading 'God's Word.'

The Westboro Baptist Church may well be the most well-known hate group in America. They are also one of the most frightening cults in America. I say this, because of the photo I have posted above. Not one of those children can possibly be over the age of 12, yet they have spent their entire lives being fed the hateful lies and rhetoric of an obvious madman. Thanks to Phelps' misinterpretation of the Bible, these poor kids actually believe that God hates everyone. The 80 or so members of the WBC are all related, either through blood or marriage, and have fallen under the spell of Phelps' preachings.

Truth be told, I did my best to exploit the WBC and their antics. Using a series of fake names (mine was Margaret White - and bonus points to you if you understand why) and email addresses, the JTMF tried to lure the WBC into protesting our production of The Most Fabulous Story Ever Told, a play they have protested against on more than one occasion, in an effort to garner publicity and the support of our local LGBT community. Unfortunately for us, the WBC's protest schedule (available on their odious website) did not allow for a stop-over in central NJ.

Lately, Phelps' son Nate, a 'defector' from the family, has begun to speak out against his father's insanity. Below, you'll find an ABC News report on Nate and his efforts to disparage his father's and sister's outrageous behavior.

A few years ago, a friend of mine became a member of the Jehovah's Witnesses. I always thought of N as a rational, intelligent person who knew the difference between religion and blind-faith. But he was going through a personal rough spot and when his nephews (also Witnesses) brought him into the fold, he was ripe for the picking. N is now an ordained minister of the church and has shunned me because I am gay. I consider this his and my loss. We have both lost not only our friendship, but the rational exchange of ideas toward a greater good (or at least, a personal understanding).

Here's the thing:

When blind obedience to one person or one group clouds one's judgment, it may be time to step back and consider rationality. Sadly, folks like N and the members of the Phelps family who did not escape are so spiritually weakened (either by personal experience or fear-induced dogma), they can no longer function as rational human beings and are reduced to drones in thrall to those who have laid claim to their minds through lies and promises of an unknowable future reward. They then become perfect fodder for racism; homophobia and terrorist attacks. Sound like any other extremist fundamentalist you might have heard about?

While I certainly wish no ill-will on my former friend (or any other person), I certainly hope that (barring some awful Jonestown-like event), they will eventually see the error of their ways and return to rational, humanistic ideals. And if they can't or won't... then "Praise Jesus and Pass the Arsenic." One gets what one deserves.

Ouch! That sounded horrible, didn't it? But I somehow can't help but feel that way about people who are so weak they have to rely on unsubstantiated rhetoric to find purpose in their own existence.

Okay - I'm ranting for a second night in a row. I get it. "We want nonsense, Uncle P." It's coming - as soon as I can get off this high-horse (not an easy task, for those who know me well).

More, anon.
Prospero

Christmas in June

So, here it is, June 7th, and I'm listening to Christmas music. No, seriously. I'm trying to choose Intermission music for "Most Fabulous..." which ends Act I with the Nativity and places Act II at a Christmas Open House party in modern-day New York City (you'd be amazed at how much gay Christmas music there is). Why wouldn't I be listening to Christmas music (most of which, by the way, I despise)?

This is my last week to devote 97.99% percent of my attention to my cast, which saddens me. I love them and want to watch them play and help them grow as much as I can. But I find myself devoting more and more time to the technical side of the show, which excites me too, because I'm starting to get into how all the elements of the show will work together as a whole. So, as you can imagine, I am torn and in need of an occasional distraction.

Weekends are light for most of the blogs I read regularly (some don't post at all on Saturdays and Sundays), so I branch out and hit YouTube and funnyordie and any other number of sites I only visit on the weekend or once-in-a-while. Tonight, in a YouTube search for "The Most Fabulous Story Ever Told," I came across this report of a Florida production this past January:

I may have mentioned this before, but we're actually hoping the "good" Reverend Phelps and his clan show up. Their presence is just what may be what it takes for the entire New Jersey LGBT community to fully embrace the JTMF and what we are all about.

Yesterday afternoon was a line-through with most of the cast, and a barbecue/hot-tub/pool party as their reward, after. We carried-on, drank, ate, laughed and tortured each other, as usual. I quizzed my newest find about horror movies (he's good), gave some amazing foot-rubs and further cemented the bonds between us (no, NOT in THAT way, you pervs! ;-0).

There is something truly magical about a cast that not only 'gets" it, but connects to one another so extraordinarily. Either I'm a genius, or I am just a casting savant (though I doubt the latter... I've made more than my share of casting mistakes... lol). In either case, I am certainly the luckiest director on the entire East Coast.

Today was an amazing choreography session with one of the best fight guys around. The Bravest Actors in the World had it down and running at full speed in less than 30 minutes. Props to all three for once again delivering beyond expectations.

Finally, here's something funny. While I am not particularly a fan of Tori Spelling (except in Trick), this clip from her show, featuring Star Trek and "Heroes" alum, Zachary Quinto, is both hilarious and hot!

On that note, I am off to continue (and hopefully, soon finish) work on my soundplot. We'll talk again soon, I promise.

More, anon.
Prospero

PS - I am deliberately not watching the Tonys, because even though I took the time to write this post, I still have 12,546 things to do before the show will be ready to open. "Oy gay!"

P.

So Much Hate, So Little Time

I have plenty to talk about tonight, so I'll be splitting this into two posts.

First, more on Prop 8; Day Without a Gay and those Bible-thumping idiots at Westboro Baptist.

The "Reverand" (and I use the term loosely) Fred Phelps and his family of hate-mongers have now taken on the last bastion of childhood - Santa Claus, himself. These morons apparently actually believe that God is punishing America for it's permissive attitude toward homosexuality (did they not see the results on Prop 8?) by killing US soldiers abroad and ruining our economy. Now, they have come out with this delightful bit of propaganda:

I refuse to post the rest of the poem here, simply because it makes me sick to my stomach. Suffice it to say, I know who'll be standing at the gates of Hell saying "What the f...?" come Judgment Day. (Hint: Fred Phelps and Family).

This is the kind of hateful ignorance that leads religious extremists to fly planes into skyscrapers, folks. Make no mistake, the Devil has an especially hot pitchfork poised to poke their particularly ignorant asses.

Now, on the opposite end of the hate spectrum, comes this delightfully funny little short film, Love is Love. Sadly, the people who need to see it either won't get it, or won't even watch it.

And last, but far from least, here is just one more reason to love the hilarious Wanda Sykes: