mtd opinions: A Brief History of Westboro Baptist Church

A long time ago, approximately 50 years ago even, Goober Felps, the founder of the Westboro Baptist Church, who, at the time was working as a door-to-door used diaper salesman, stumbled on a “real neat” concept he affectionately referred to as, “How much of a jerk can I be?” The concept became something of an obsession, and he soon found himself neglecting to make new batches of used diapers. Instead, all he seemed to want to do is sit around and think of awful things to say to people.

In order to find out how big of a jerk he could truly be, Goober realized he would have to take his jerkiness to the people. So Goober started going around town saying things like, “Hello, Mrs. Baker. You sure are pretty. And might I say that perfume you’re wearing sure is doing it’s best to cover up your usual stench. I reckon it’s time you had yourself a bath, now, Mrs. Baker. Don’t you?”

I’m sure you can imagine it wasn’t long before everyone in the small Kansas town wanted to lynch Goober. Lucky for Goober, most of the folks in town were good Christians and showed tolerance and turned the other cheek, which really bugged the crap out of Goober. So Goober, in a stroke of pure genius, decided to make himself big signs that said all the mean things he thought of. That way, even if the good townsfolk ignored his mean words, there was still a chance they might sneak a peek at his sign, as bright and colorful as he painted them. And when they did, why Goober could hardly contain his satisfaction, because he knew deep down where his heart was supposed to be, he had accomplished his goal and ruined that person’s day. The signs were also good because Goober didn’t have to risk losing his voice. This way, he could stay out longer and spread more hate, which suited him just fine.

One day, Goober was standing there, right outside the church, where most of the townsfolk seemed to frequent, holding a sign that read, “Mr. Jacobson’s clothes don’t match proper!” when another stroke of genius smacked Goober across his ignorant face. He said to himself, “This sure is fun. But most of these folks ain’t paying me no mind no more. They turning the other cheek like it says in that Bible. Well, what if I says to them, ‘GOD said this’ and ‘God said that’?” So, right then, Goober sat down and took out his paints and added to his sign, so it now read, “God says Mr. Jacobson’s clothes don’t match proper!” Goober smiled, exposing his proud grayish inbred smile and stood up right away. He waved at folks passing by, since they had grown accustom to ignoring him, and said as obnoxious as his two brain cells could muster, “Look! I changed it! I mean God changed it!”

Goober sure stepped in it this time. He wasn’t just being a jerk. He was being sacrilegious, as far as the townspeople were concerned. It was decided that there would be a town meeting, held right there in the community church, of which everyone attended. Even Goober, who was sitting outside the whole time with a sign that read, “God don’t take kindly to meetings fixing to get Goober in trouble.”

Inside the old church, which was filled to the brim with good townsfolk fed up with Goober Felps and his idiot ways, they were about to cast a vote when, all of a sudden, one of the Dotes, who were known in town for their dirt shirt shop, said, “Well, what if God really did tell Goober to write all those things?” Everyone in the room, who were anxious to vote and be done with Goober once and for all, let out a big sigh. The Dotes, who were easily the dumbest family in town, coming from a long line of dirt shirt makers, from way back when Europe was just a heap of barbarians, when the first Dote had the gaul to say aloud, “Hey, dirt is dirt cheap, so why don’t we make shirts out of dirt. We’ll be rich!” The Dote had planted their dumb seed in the other townsfolk. And for some reason, perhaps for obvious reasons, this dumb seed only seemed to take root in the dumber, less evolved folks in the town, when they thought to themselves, “That Dote is right. Who are we to say God didn’t paint those signs?” As the idiocy slowly dripped and drooled about the room, the brighter folks, the ones who knew better, who had actually taken the time to read the Bible, quickly extrapolated what this might mean to their little town as they stood in awe after witnessing the phenomenon of devolution all in the matter of minutes. So, without a word, the townspeople with half a brain or more went home and packed up their things and left the God-awful town to Goober Felps and the Dotes and all the other doofuses.

Outside, Goober Felps watched all the folks leaving the church. Curious, he went up to the front door and after a considerable pause, walked in. He looked at everyone. And everyone looked at him. And it was dumb love at dumb first sight. Everyone was there. The Felps, the Dotes, the Horndippers, the One-Tooths, and the Chickendogs. And on this fateful day, with Goober Felps as their pastor, this motley bunch of sub-humans became the first incarnation of the Westboro Baptist Church.

Today, the Westboro Baptist Church has grown into quite the band of jerks. No longer do they represent one idiot’s tireless quest for complete and utter jerkiness. In fact, when approached, the members will deny their humble beginnings, claiming that they formed first as a church and then a hate group and not the other way around. And yet the evidence speaks for itself, as they stand together, in all their inbred glory, with Goober Felps’ signs of hatred. Goober would be so proud. Finally, his message of jerkiness was moving slowly, dripping and drooling throughout the world. Stopping wherever they can generate the most hate and evoke the most pain, you know, like funerals and such.

It’s important to note: due to their despicable nature, the Westboro Baptist Church has had the hardest time finding more idiots of like-mindlessness to grow and flourish with. So, in the past 50 years, their numbers have virtually stayed the same, due to excessive inbreeding, which rendered most of the group sterile. One can only speculate how great their numbers could have grown over time. Thankfully, it would appear God has a way of keeping idiots like these in check, which is the lone saving grace when considering the existence of a group so vile as the Westboro Baptist Church. So rest assured, Goober Felp’s clan will never amount to anything more than a pesky clump of excrement on the bottom of society’s shoes. And for that, we can truly thank God.