This isn't anybody you know, is it?
Kevin Woster: Gay bashers lost in hate
By Kevin Woster, Journal Staff Writer
Two things stuck in my head after last week's visit by the gay-hating pickets from Topeka, Kan.: the 4-year-old and the Yankees cap.
Actually, Josiah isn't a 4-year-old any longer. He turned 5 on Friday. But only a few days before that birthday, Josiah stood in the sun in front of Rapid City churches, wearing a shirt proclaiming that "God Hates Fags" and holding a sign that read "Thank God for Sept. 11."
Pretty nasty stuff for a sweet-faced little boy with reddish bangs and a pre-schooler's attention span. But he came by it naturally. His grandfather is the Rev. Fred Phelps, a pastor and blunt-edged preacher from Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka, a man noted for his "picket ministry."
Actually, it's a ministry of hate. I think Phelps would admit that, probably with pride. He hates gays. He hates anyone who doesn't hate gays. He hates any town or state or country that doesn't hate gays.
So, he hates most of us, whether we are gay or just "gay enablers." And he believes - or at least professes to believe - that God hates all of us, as well.
That's a lot of hate, and some of it came to Rapid City last week in the signs and words of eight of Phelps' faithful followers, including his daughter, Rachel Hockenbarger, and her two sons, 7-year-old Stephen and 4-year-old Josiah.
They came, in part, to show their hate for city Alderman Tom Murphy, who plans to have a sex-change operation. And they came to show their hate for Rapid City, because the community hasn't cast the alderman out as an "abomination" but has instead displayed tolerance and even compassion.
Murphy faced his accusers at picket spots across town, and they responded hatefully -- except, of course, for the boys. Oh, they lugged their signs around, dutifully and without any apparent enthusiasm. But it was clear that they were more interested in Murphy's Siberian husky-great Pyrenees dog than in his sexuality.
The boys wore faces of tired resignation, clearly unsure of what they were doing and also aware that most passers-by didn't like it, or them.
That was especially true of Josiah, who turned 5 on Friday, hopefully to a traditional cake and joyful celebration free of the anger and condemnation and, especially, hatred of the previous weekend.
I hope the kid got to be a kid for the day - maybe to do some fishing, toss a baseball around, play a little soccer. He looked very much like he'd rather be doing any of that last week.
Steve Drain, however, was clearly right where he wanted to be as he marched back and forth in front of five Rapid City churches, flashing a sign that read "Fag Gospel" and walking on the U.S. flag he gripped in his hand.
Drain - a contract television producer who says he does the "picket ministry" on his own time and dime - is clearly a man on a mission. That mission is to hate gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transgenders and anyone else he considers to be "an abomination" in the eyes of God.
That includes me, I guess, because I'm a member of the "fag media" and because I'm ignorant enough on spirituality overall and the Bible in particular to presume that God is more interested in our hearts than in our genitals.
Drain dismisses such thinking as the wishy-washy mumblings of a "fag enabler." He knows God hates fags, God hates fag enablers and God hates the fag-loving United States so much that he blew up the space shuttle and brought the Sept. 11, 2001, acts of terror.
It all made me wonder if there was anything Drain didn't hate. That's when I noticed the cap.
All the while Drain was stomping on the flag, glaring at residents of the "sodomite whorehouse" of Rapid City and professing his hate for most citizens of this country, he was wearing a New York Yankees cap.
Say what? A baseball lover among the Phelps faithful? And a Yankees fan to boot?
It's true. When I asked about the cap, Drain admitted that he has been a Yankees fan since he was a kid. And for just an instant, his voice and demeanor changed.
I think, in fact, that he might have smiled. I know I did. And in a different situation, we might have chatted over a soda about Mick the Stick and Yogi, Thurmon Munson and Reggie Jackson, Derek Jeter and whether the Alex Rodriguez trade was really good for the future of the pinstripe gang.
We didn't, of course. But still, the cap raised some obvious follow-up questions: How could he hate America and love baseball? How could he call Rapid City a "sodomite whorehouse" and cheer for a team from New York City - a community with, uh, somewhat more expansive views on personal behavior?
Was he aware that some of the Yankees were switch hitters? Had he not noticed how often the guys pat each other on the fanny?
Is it really possible to hate Tom Murphy and like George Steinbrenner?
Finally, I asked him: Isn't the Yankees cap a contradiction to your message of hate? Drain shrugged as he walked away and said something like: "If you started thinking like that, you wouldn't be able to do anything."
Yeah, that's the trouble with hate. Once you start, it's tough to know where to stop.
Kevin Woster: Gay bashers lost in hate
By Kevin Woster, Journal Staff Writer
Two things stuck in my head after last week's visit by the gay-hating pickets from Topeka, Kan.: the 4-year-old and the Yankees cap.
Actually, Josiah isn't a 4-year-old any longer. He turned 5 on Friday. But only a few days before that birthday, Josiah stood in the sun in front of Rapid City churches, wearing a shirt proclaiming that "God Hates Fags" and holding a sign that read "Thank God for Sept. 11."
Pretty nasty stuff for a sweet-faced little boy with reddish bangs and a pre-schooler's attention span. But he came by it naturally. His grandfather is the Rev. Fred Phelps, a pastor and blunt-edged preacher from Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka, a man noted for his "picket ministry."
Actually, it's a ministry of hate. I think Phelps would admit that, probably with pride. He hates gays. He hates anyone who doesn't hate gays. He hates any town or state or country that doesn't hate gays.
So, he hates most of us, whether we are gay or just "gay enablers." And he believes - or at least professes to believe - that God hates all of us, as well.
That's a lot of hate, and some of it came to Rapid City last week in the signs and words of eight of Phelps' faithful followers, including his daughter, Rachel Hockenbarger, and her two sons, 7-year-old Stephen and 4-year-old Josiah.
They came, in part, to show their hate for city Alderman Tom Murphy, who plans to have a sex-change operation. And they came to show their hate for Rapid City, because the community hasn't cast the alderman out as an "abomination" but has instead displayed tolerance and even compassion.
Murphy faced his accusers at picket spots across town, and they responded hatefully -- except, of course, for the boys. Oh, they lugged their signs around, dutifully and without any apparent enthusiasm. But it was clear that they were more interested in Murphy's Siberian husky-great Pyrenees dog than in his sexuality.
The boys wore faces of tired resignation, clearly unsure of what they were doing and also aware that most passers-by didn't like it, or them.
That was especially true of Josiah, who turned 5 on Friday, hopefully to a traditional cake and joyful celebration free of the anger and condemnation and, especially, hatred of the previous weekend.
I hope the kid got to be a kid for the day - maybe to do some fishing, toss a baseball around, play a little soccer. He looked very much like he'd rather be doing any of that last week.
Steve Drain, however, was clearly right where he wanted to be as he marched back and forth in front of five Rapid City churches, flashing a sign that read "Fag Gospel" and walking on the U.S. flag he gripped in his hand.
Drain - a contract television producer who says he does the "picket ministry" on his own time and dime - is clearly a man on a mission. That mission is to hate gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transgenders and anyone else he considers to be "an abomination" in the eyes of God.
That includes me, I guess, because I'm a member of the "fag media" and because I'm ignorant enough on spirituality overall and the Bible in particular to presume that God is more interested in our hearts than in our genitals.
Drain dismisses such thinking as the wishy-washy mumblings of a "fag enabler." He knows God hates fags, God hates fag enablers and God hates the fag-loving United States so much that he blew up the space shuttle and brought the Sept. 11, 2001, acts of terror.
It all made me wonder if there was anything Drain didn't hate. That's when I noticed the cap.
All the while Drain was stomping on the flag, glaring at residents of the "sodomite whorehouse" of Rapid City and professing his hate for most citizens of this country, he was wearing a New York Yankees cap.
Say what? A baseball lover among the Phelps faithful? And a Yankees fan to boot?
It's true. When I asked about the cap, Drain admitted that he has been a Yankees fan since he was a kid. And for just an instant, his voice and demeanor changed.
I think, in fact, that he might have smiled. I know I did. And in a different situation, we might have chatted over a soda about Mick the Stick and Yogi, Thurmon Munson and Reggie Jackson, Derek Jeter and whether the Alex Rodriguez trade was really good for the future of the pinstripe gang.
We didn't, of course. But still, the cap raised some obvious follow-up questions: How could he hate America and love baseball? How could he call Rapid City a "sodomite whorehouse" and cheer for a team from New York City - a community with, uh, somewhat more expansive views on personal behavior?
Was he aware that some of the Yankees were switch hitters? Had he not noticed how often the guys pat each other on the fanny?
Is it really possible to hate Tom Murphy and like George Steinbrenner?
Finally, I asked him: Isn't the Yankees cap a contradiction to your message of hate? Drain shrugged as he walked away and said something like: "If you started thinking like that, you wouldn't be able to do anything."
Yeah, that's the trouble with hate. Once you start, it's tough to know where to stop.
