Tag Archives: crazy people

Westboro Baptist Church in VT? A Dream Come True.

Dear besties,

I cannot tell you how excited I am. OK, I’ll tell you. On Sept. 1, in the year of our lord two thousand niner, Fred Phelps, the hate-spewing sign-monger from Kansas, will be gracing us with his presence here in the Green Mountain State. Well, he’ll probably just be sending his minions, and by minions I mean his toothy daughter Shirley and her umpteen inbred children. They’re coming to protest our little state for crimes against a wrathful God or some such nonsense.

god-hates-signs

This is what hilarity looks like.

Here’s a little background on Mr. Phelps (no relation to human fish cum mad toker Michael Phelps) and his Westboro Baptist Church. Apparently God visited Phelps and was all like, “Yo son, what’s wrong with this world? Dudes are doing other dudes and it goes against my will ‘n’ shit.” And Phelps was all like, “Oh, word, homes. Guys screwing other guys in the poopshoot ain’t cool. I gotta do sumpin’ about this.” And God was all like, “Dawg, you need to represent me on Earth. Ain’t nobody down there listening to me.” And Phelps was all like, “God/Jesus/the holy spirit, I feel you. You can count on me.” Then he started making crazypants signs that say God Hates Fags and Thank God For AIDS and other awesome stuff like that. Sign Guy Steve totally ripped them off.

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North End House of Nuts

Dear friends who may or may not be the best,

First, I’d like to ask the loud mouth with the radio announcer’s voice sitting a few seats away from me to pipe down. I haven’t gotten my noise-cancelling headphones yet (birthday present hint, hint, hint), so I still have to listen to your insufferable gasbagging, which, incidentally, is the only sound that permeates the tunes I’m jamming out to. For the love of all that is awesome is this world, like slip-on shoes, pandora.com, Necco wafers (yes, flipping Necco wafers, son!) and musical theater, put the brakes on your yapper.

Thank you, BF’s for indulging me in a little rant. But how am supposed to churn out hilarity when my thoughts are being drowned out by the extreme verbosity across the room?

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