On Getting Even

As some of you may know Fred Phelps, the infamous (or famous, depending on your point of view) leader of Westboro Baptist Church died on Wednesday at the age of 84. And true to their reputation of face melting hypocrisy – the Westboro founder’s son then released a statement saying that anyone that tried to picket his father’s funeral would be sued. Except he didn’t say “anyone,” he went out of his way to say “fags.”

Any fags that wanna come out and protest my dad’s funeral better be ready for a lawsuit.

No fags better show up with signs thinking that they’re being clever either. Any fag caught protesting this great man’s funeral will get sued. This is their only warning so I won’t be repeating myself anytime in the near future

It also included this line:

Show the man some respect on his well-deserved journey into Heaven.

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Midnight Musings

The law of conservation of energy states that energy cannot be created or destroyed. Instead, it gets turned into something else, potential to kinetic to potential again, an endless cycle of the birth and rebirth of energy.

Which leads me to my late night thought of the day: Is that how death is? Do we, in fact, possess souls, some energy or source – the very perfect mix of yet undiscovered particles – that when freed from this physical potential energy suit can then find another? Created nor destroyed?

Maybe that’s how astral projection works – we don’t necessarily need to die for that aforementioned soul to burst free for awhile. Perhaps it’s possible that some pieces can break out for a short time– like the water pulled from the air on a cold drink in summer, gone again back into the wind in time.

Who knows? But there’s a part of me that likes the thought, or maybe that’s just the human fear of death and sleeping pills talking.

A Rock and Another

There they sit
a rock and another

And the years
they pass
And the storms
they come
And the rocks
…they sit

Under a million million moons
while winds and rains smooth and shape
There they sit
while not much changes

And the years
they pass

Under a million million suns
while their edges smooth and sag
They do not look back or question
they simply watch it happen

And the storms
they come

Under a million million wings
some others roll by
Around them life rises and falls
and rivers run dry

And the rocks
…they sit