You know, today is a beautiful day in NYC, sunny but not humid, the kind of day that brings a smile even to my curmudgeonly face. So after getting a paper and breakfast, I go back to the apartment, do some tidying up, pay some bills, and grab a few clubs to go to the driving range.
And right around the corner are about a dozen anti-gay demonstrators. Fred Phelps’ organization, GodHatesFags, or whatever the heck he calls it, was demonstrating against the fact that the Stonewall Tavern was named a national landmark. “Gays can’t repent,” “Sinners Die” the whole hate-filled smorgasbord of garbage. Even had a sign implying that Matthew Shepherd had it coming.
There were only a dozen of them, and about 200 counter-demonstrators (including me, as soon as I figured out it wasn’t a movie shoot). But it pissed me off! Damn did it piss me off!
Since the NYC police would have objected to me using my 5-iron on them, I’ve decided to rant here.
Go back to Kansas, you vile bringers of hatred and ugliness! If by some razor-thin chance you are right about how God views people, than God can kiss my ass! Go spread your hate among your science-challenged brethren back in Topeka. No wonder Brown v. Board came out of your backwards state, you proofs that evolution isn’t universal! Keep it out of my neighborhood! Go see Cats like normal tourists!
You spineless insults to humanity wouldn’t have lasted 10 seconds without the NYPD. The actual counter-demonstrators would not have hurt you, because they are experienced at this and advocate non-violence. But about a dozen passers-by and me would have. That’s right, I was perfectly willing to ruin a nearly-new golf club just to make your faces look as ugly as your hearts!
And Fred Phelps wasn’t even there! If the people I asked were correct, it’s because he’s too sick with some horrible disease. Good! Die slowly in excruciating pain, you sicko!
Livin’ on Tums, Vitamin E and Rogaine