Phuck Phred

Disciples of the reverend Fred Phelps protested today outside a synagogue a few blocks from my apartment in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn. As usual, the group of protesters was much smaller than the group of onlookers, and the Phelpsians carried signs with diverse messages against Jews, gays, Israel, and Obama. As usual, the Phelpsians did not seem to be attacking anything in particular, nor were they advocating any action. Their attitude is essentially Calvinistic: Chances are good that you’re going to Hell, and they just wanted to let you know.  One sign did say “Some Jews Will Repent,” but it was left unclear whether or not that repentance would come too late (or what exactly the Jews in question would be repenting for).

I’ve spent a lot of time defending Kansas, so it depresses me to see other people from my home state so aggressively giving credence to the stereotypes that anyone from the midwest has to deal with when they move to a big city. Conservative cultures, by definition, do not go around parading envoys in distant cities. If you are reading this blog, then chances are good that you live a life significantly different from that of the average person living in a small town in the midwest.  And it’s also true that you probably wouldn’t agree with them much on matters of politics or religion. And yet, most of them would never dream of coming all the way to New York City to let you know what they think of your lifestyle. That’s because they don’t give a shit about New York City. This is an idea that’s hard for a lot of New Yorkers to grasp, but it’s true: most people who don’t live here actually don’t care about New York very much.

And yet, here the Phelpsians are. Someone from the anti-protester crowd shouted “You’re not in Kansas anymore!” and as much as it pains me to hear that old chestnut, I understand. Unfortunately, these fucknuts have become the self-styled ambassadors of my home state. Local reporters walked through the crowd, looking for sound bytes. I was tempted to approach one of them and say something about how the Phelpsians are a joke in Kansas, too. A popular local bumper sticker in the 1990s said “Phuck Phred.”

One classmate of mine at the University of Kansas was a gay man who died of AIDS. He knew that Phelps would picket his funeral, because at that time (circa 1993) Phelps was picketing all funerals of known homosexuals in Kansas. He seemed particularly interested in KU, which is based in Lawrence, which is arguably the most liberal spot in the midwest. Phelps and his followers (who, the local media liked to point out, were mostly members of his own family)  would regularly show up on campus, screaming the most offensive reactionary things they could come up with until they were paid a little attention. My classmate, who knew that his funeral would be picketed, left instructions in his will that no efforts be made to keep the protestors away from the ceremony. They were to be greeted as fellow mourners, welcomed to come as close to the casket as they liked, and invited to the reception afterward.