The Westboro Baptist Church Does Not Know How To "Cult"

The WBC has always been a funny lot. "Well no shit Glenn," you might say, "and Hitler was a bit of a scallywag." I don't just mean that they are probably, highly likely to be, mentally ill on a drastic level. I mean that many of their positions and actions don't really make sense considering what we know about them. Their founder Fred Phelps was very much the same.

Seen here posing for "signsfordickheads.com"

By the look of this man with his shark eyes and gaping maw which no doubt saw the blood of many a surprised Kansas cow, you wouldn't think he was an anti-racism lawyer during the days of the civil rights movement. And yet here we are; discussing the antics of a group he founded that regularly makes a habit out of emblazoning the word "FAG" on pieces of card.

I'll just leave this here.

I came across the above video today and of course I watched it because I find the folly of man hilarious. The guy being interviewed is Steve Drain, whose name is a joke in and of itself so I wont even bother (making up jokes is a DRAIN on my energy... wait... shit). On top of that he may also be the most boring member of the WBC in existence, and as such probably sounds far more reasonable than most of them. Which makes the fact that they made him their spokesperson here a fairly smart move considering the others would probably have attacked and burned the camera for the crime of witchcraft. Also Shirley Phelps is a living cadaver.

I'm certain I saw her in a mirror at Glamis Castle.

As mentally ill as he clearly is you can actually learn a lot from listening to him about how they seem to differ so much from other cults. For one thing, they actually seem to understand both the Bible AND politics on a higher level than many of their Tea Party counterparts. For example, they care little about the whole "separation of church and state" issue, which their right wing colleagues repeatedly deny the existence of. They could care less if the government makes anything legal or illegal because they don't care about government. They only care about spreading the "truth". And as this brainwashed individual said at the end of the video, Jesus could be described as more of a socialist than a capitalist. A claim that would make the Tea Party shit themselves in dismay.

The thing is, usually when people read the Bible and understand it to anywhere near this level they become atheist, or at the very least non-religious. Because it's easy to see the hypocrisy in the followers and the frequent contradictions in the text.

The other thing that's interesting about them is that unlike many religious organizations (Read: Cults), such as the Church of Scientology, they have no desire to smear or stalk members that leave them. In the video, Mr Steve Plughole speaks about his daughter leaving the church. And whilst he refuses flat out to say he still loves her (or, conversely, that he has disowned her entirely) he still doesn't care to say much of anything negative about her. Just that she made her choice. Whereas if this were the Church of Scientology, you can be sure that they would've called her up at 3:00 am to make threats, raked through her bins for blackmail material, killed her dog, sent Tom Cruise to jump on her couch, etc.

This is what cults do! And yet the WBC seem to have this strange policy of "live and let live" whilst at the same time protesting funerals and LGBT anything. They are honestly one of the weirdest cults ever, because whilst they share so many things in common with others, there are many things that are so DIFFERENT about them.

If the WBC really wanted to up their cult rep then they would go out in a fiery blaze during a siege with the ATF surrounded by pregnant women, or at the very least one of their leaders should be outed for multiple child molestations. Because when cults are started, you can almost be guaranteed that it's because the leader wants to get laid. What we have with the WBC is a group whose leader actually believed what he was saying and believed in his cause. Which is probably why they're so weirdly different in the long run.  

These people should be studied, because they may actually be the closest thing to being TRUE Christians in this day and age. Now I get moderate Christians may come after me for saying that but let's be honest; they're interpreting the Bible more closely than any of you are (though he still makes that argument that Jesus nullified things in the Old Testament with his coming, which is weird considering the whole anti-gay thing comes from the Old Testament). The WBC should be watched because they are an example of what the religion often truly says.

The True Story of Easter: A Disrespectful Revision

Jesus knew that the time had come. He had known for a long time. He had known ever since the voice in his head that claimed it was his dad told him. Ever since that day when he was twelve and he was tending the goats, because it was the year 11 and there wasn't much else to do. He sat on the rickety fence, listening to the incessant bleating of the horned beasts, and contemplated his own existence. Even as a young boy Jesus Horatio Hornblower Christ was considered odd. Aside from the constant philosophical pondering amongst the beasts of the field and the fact that he somehow wasn't infected with every malady, pox and dementia that the other children had due to the lack of proper health care; it was his appearance in general that tended to give people pause. His shiny blue eyes, flowing blonde hair and inexplicably white skin had resulted in many a curse muttered and many a stone cast. Luckily for Jesus most of these people didn't have fingers. Or eyes.

He had suddenly become focused on a particularly pained bleating coming from the other side of the field. Jesus scooped up his shepherd's crook and made his way towards the sound. He knew he couldn't allow another goat to be stolen or killed. Last time that happened he was brought to the village square and had his hands cut off. Then they grew back, which seemed to upset the villagers even more than the whole goat affair. He had no real desire to go through that again.

To his relief he discovered a young kid struggling to remove it's head from a gap in the rickety fence, bleating and crying like a stuck pig. Except it was a goat and not a pig. Jesus always thought that comparison was highly discriminatory due to the assumption that only pigs could become stuck. He pondered this injustice for a moment before remembering why he had come over here in the first place. Jesus knelt down and gently removed the young fellow's head from the gap in the rickety fence.

"There you are my child," said Jesus, looking down at the distressed animal ,"Your adventure took a turn for the worse I see."

The animal looked up at Jesus' smiling face, and in the piercing Middle-Eastern sun, it almost seemed as if it were smiling back. A warmth ran through the boy's veins, knowing that he had done good. For it was in good deeds and helping others where the young Jesus' passion and joy truly lay. Little did he know that it would be this quality that would make him the world's most popular character in the world's bestselling book, as well as multiple film and TV adaptations.

A voice boomed down from the sky, "TREMBLE! FOR I AM THE LORD THY GOD!"

It was at this point that the young Jesus became the first child in his village to knock out a baby goat with one punch.

There was a pause.

"THAT WAS... UNNECESSARY," spoke the voice which at this point was quite clearly not coming from the comatose animal on the ground. Jesus stumbled backwards, looking around erratically for the joker hiding behind a large bush with their lips pressed against the end of a hollowed out log.

"Wh...Who... are you? Where are you? Show yourself!," demanded Jesus with an audible shake in his voice.

"I JUST TOLD YOU! I AM THE LORD THY GOD! IN HEAVEN'S NAME! YOU ARE JUST LIKE YOUR MOTHER. NEVER LISTENING."

The boy clutched his crook tighter than ever, resigning himself to the idea that he had finally caught the wheat madness that had been going around and now he was hearing God talk. He held up the stick in a defensive pose.

"What do you know of my mother? And why are you here? What have I done?"

"WHAT? NOTHING OF COURSE! OTHER THAN PUNCH OUT A BABY GOAT, BUT I"LL ADMIT TO SOME OF THE BLAME ON THAT ACCOUNT. MY PRESENCE CAN BE STARTLING TO SOME."

"What are you here for?!" demanded the young Jesus, using up all the fortitude he had left in him. He didn't really want to annoy God. He did, after all, once drown the entire Earth. But at this point Jesus had had quite enough and was willing to take the risk.

"OH, YES, THAT'S RIGHT. I AM HERE MY CHILD, TO BRING YOU NEWS OF YOUR TRUE LINEAGE. FOR YOU SEE JESUS HORATIO HORNBLOWER CHRIST.... I... AM... YOUR FATHER!"

There was a silence as Jesus mulled this over.

"Why did you tell me to 'tremble'?"

"SORRY?"

"You said I should tremble. If you're my dad why should I need to tremble? That's not exactly something I should be doing in the presence of my father."

"OH. I DO APOLOGISE BOY. I'VE GOTTEN SO USED TO SAYING IT. IT HELPS A LOT WHEN TALKING TO THE PEASANTS."

"Peasants?"

"BUT YES!" interrupted the voice, it's timbre sending waves through the ground and knocking birds out of trees, "I AM YOUR FATHER. AND I AM HERE TO TELL YOU YOUR MISSION."

And so Jesus sat on the rickety fence and listened to the voice lay out the purpose of his life. But the more it spoke the more Jesus thought the whole thing was simply barmy. Completely farfetched. Jesus thought that even if the voice wasn't the result of tainted wheat, still, no one would ever believe any of it. Not a single person. Not even if it were written down in a book, passed around for 2000 years and advertised on billboards all over the civilized world. And yet, there it was, being dictated to him by a being whose voice could knock down buildings.

However one sentence always stuck with him. The sentence the voice uttered as it went to leave.

"WELL, IT'S BEEN NICE TO CATCH UP. SEE YOU LATER. OH YES, JUST SO YOU KNOW; THEY MIGHT NAIL YOU TO A PIECE OF WOOD. BUH BYE."

And there Jesus sat. Squashed up against a wall on one side of a long table, surrounded by his drunken disciples; Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Judas, and those other guys that the author of this nonsense couldn't be bothered to look up. He sat in silence, stroking a wooden box that he had resting on his lap.

"My brothers," uttered Jesus finally, at which point every single person sitting at that table turned to face the blonde, blue eyed, white-skinned son of God.

"My brothers, this will be a night of great change. A night of great meaning. A historical night, that will reverberate throughout time, and cause ripples and determine events for centuries to come. It will also, however, be a night of great sorrow. For you see... one of you will betray me."

There was a collective gasp amongst the disciples. They muttered to each other in dismay and suspicion as Judas darted his eyes looking for the nearest exit.

"But do not fret my brothers," continued the charismatic prophet, "for it is not the end. For you see, I have had time to think. Ever since that day in the goat field when I was a young boy I have had time to think. To think about the meaning of my life, and my legacy. And to be perfectly honest.... I would rather not be nailed to a piece of wood."

A stunned silence overcame the group.

"Really my brothers. I've made my decision. Think about it. I've been preaching peace, and love and forgiveness for one's fellow man for my whole life, and yet here I am about to establish a religion based around a fucking human sacrifice. People will walk into churches with young children and they will look up to see the image of a dead man nailed to a wooden board and somehow this is supposed to instill some kind of sense of morality and spirituality within them; when all it WILL do is give them bloody nightmares! And what's all this bollocks about "Hell" that I keep hearing about? What happened to forgiveness? You know? The thing I've spent most of my life trying to espouse?"

The silence continued as Judas leant back in his chair with his arms stretched up behind his head.

"Y'know, something tells me it doesn't matter what I say. Something tells me that no matter what I do there will always be some arsehole ready to pick up my work, toss it in the air, and use whatever comes down as an excuse to set up a commune and shag loads of brainwashed women! Start wars in other countries and generally control people like the gullible fucking sheep that they are! Well no I say! Here...!"

Jesus slammed the box down on to the table and opened it.

"Here... is my TRUE legacy."

Jesus reached into the box. His disciples gasped again as he pulled out what was inside and placed it on his head. A set of fluffy, white and pink rabbit ears. Before anyone could utter a word Jesus jumped on to the table, lifted up that white frock that artists in future centuries would insist upon painting him in, squatted down, and promptly shat out a decorated egg.

Then the Romans came and nailed him to a piece of wood.

THE END

I have no idea what that was.