Tuesday, January 29, 2008

An open letter

Fred Thompson is off the chart, and in the '08 Presidential Cycle the pickings are mighty sparse if one is looking for a worthwhile candidate. If one is of a libertarian bent, McCain seems the "least worst", with the rest of the pack (on both sides of the aisle) in a sort of competitive vileness contest.

There really isn't a candidate to vote "for", just a selection to vote against. And it clears the deck for a rather terse note to the leaders of both major political factions.

Dear Party Leadership -

We're tired of only being given a choice of the "least vile" candidate. We'd like someone we can actually believe in and support, and you (on both the Dem and GOP sides of the aisle) have failed us miserably. You have misread our desires, our intents, and our dreams when you have not simply ignored them in favor of the fantasies of the radical wings and policy wonks of each of your respective parties - apparently in the belief we have no place else to go.

Let us correct you in that last delusion. We do have other places to go - the Green Party on the left, and the Libertarian Party on the right spring forth as rather obvious choices as parties already gaining electoral office, and a plethora of smaller parties aspiring to legitimacy are clambering for space in the wings. Pragmatism and sentiment have largely held us back, but as time passes, even those erode.

To our friends leading the GOP, we point out that Huckabee (purely aside from being a failure in his own state, at least as measured in terms of growth of the GOP in his state during his time in office) scares the holy bejeezus out of us.

We have seen the sort of frothing madness and bigotry that comes clothed in "we are a nation" and want no part of it. Huckabee's public predilection for wanting to replace the Constitution with a bible is sufficiently scary as to require drastic measures, such as voting Libertarian, or even Democrat, if it ensures Huckabee is kept far far away from the Presidency.

Huckabee is merely an extreme case in point, however. The vast majority of us believe that politics and religion only intermix to the detriment of both, and the evangelical wing of your party and its constant cries (with varying levels of subtlety) for what, once the candy-coating is stripped away, boils down to a narrow evangelical theocracy with the potential to be every bit as repressive as various of the islamic states operating under sharia law. Again, something we want no part of.

And while we're talking to you, O GOP leaders, keep the noses of yourselves and your followers out of our bedrooms. What goes on, at a sexual level, between consenting adults is truly none of your business and we deeply resent and distrust your nanny-like attempts to deny this fundamental reality. It is even less charming to try and either create or preserve legal discrimination against individuals based upon the supposed "sinfulness" of their actions in an alleged sectarian nation.

And no, greening up or coming late to the debacle of political correctness is not going to sell well to either your demographic base or to those who've already sold their soul to your opponents. It is a clear no win, where you can never do enough to satisfy the already-sold and you can never gain points with your traditional core of voters by such actions.

To our friends leading the Democrats, we also have a few terse words. Let us begin with "leave the guns alone." This has been a third-rail issue for your party for decades, yet you persist in the face of Prof. John Lott's academic studies and the common sense of the vast majority of American voters - it has been a dead stinking albatross hanging about your collective necks for years. It sells well to the true-believer element of the party faithful, but it doesn't play well out in the sticks, and not even especially well in more urban environs.

For a new tack to replace this element of the Democratic Mantra, might we suggest the more populist value of self defense against predatory criminals as a human right?

We don't like paying taxes. We are perfectly happy making our own choices on what charities to support and what percentage of our income we are willing to donate to those causes. We are begrudgingly willing to pay limited taxes to support reality-based programs such as roads, schools, emergency services, and similar items - we range from cranky to fundamentally opposed to having the cost of attempts to reshape the American consciousness or various frivolities extorted from us with all the drear dread power of the State. In short, stop that.

We like our freedom. A lot, in fact. We're willing to tolerate, in exchange, a system of laws that penalize the irresponsible, inept, and the actually malicious or predatory when and only when they commit acts harming real persons and property in the real world - laws and regulations about "what if", not so much.

Further, there is a fine line of enforceability past which point our nations rather rambunctious citizenry will begin to rebel in ways large and small, ranging from simple non-compliance to burgeoning black markets - which both sabotage respect for law generally, and have violent and brutal methods of conflict resolution specifically.

For all the talk of sustainability, if you wish to fund medical care or facilities for the poor or the needy or just the general public - fine and good. But make them foundations or endowment of sufficient fiscal size as to be self-sustaining rather than a consistent drain on public resources.

While you're at it, let us buy the cars we want, not the cars you think are good for us. Let us buy the toilets we want, not the substandard models you tell us are good for us but that fail to flush with sufficient force to drive a load all the way out to the curb sewer line.

In short, treat us as adults capable of making responsible decisions.

To both of you, end the boneheaded "War on Drugs". Admit failure. Prohibition is/was a doomed policy (as demonstrated in the 1920's) good only for producing a large, violent, and thriving black market, and the bipartisan effort to dress it up in drag and re-sell it as a "War on Drugs" is but doing the same thing, expecting a different result. As with many other activities, if while engaged thereupon you end up damp and smelling funny, it's a hint to stop and inquire if liquid biowaste is being directed into the inbound airstream.

Outside of necessary services, mostly emergency services, we have deep reservations about your programs. Think about it. That rumbling you hear may be your replacement.

Ebay Motors

E-bay, in its' substantially less than infinite wisdom, has mutilated E-bay Motors. It is a guilty pleasure of mine when insomnia strikes or life is more unamusing than usual, to go cruise the E-bay Motors section and look at the more "interesting" vehicles under "buses", "other", and military vehicles.  Usually by the time I'm looking at their aviation section, I can meander off and drift into a solid nights slumber.

Granted, E-bay has committed many other sins. They still make a good sleeping pill substitute, or did.

No more. E-bay has launched a bone-headed new interface. Find my comments to E-bay below.

The new ebay motors interface is, at best, an alpha grade
steaming pile
of crap foisted upon unwitting buyers wherein
a functional interface, in
the name of cutesy and techno-
-philia, has been effectively destroyed with
users unable
to navigate from page to page, find vehicle locations

easily, or even reliably fall back to the old interface
while issues
with the new are resolved.

A serious shake-up of IT management and Business Direction
teams
desperately needs to occur, as this is the sort of
outward facing
debacle that shakes customer and market
confidence in a firm.


Thursday, January 17, 2008

Perhaps the lion awakes...

The British Lion, perhaps, tosses in its' sleep and begins the dreary trudge towards wakefulness in the latest of a long line of tragedies involving citizens subjects who, in the course of defending themselves or loved ones or even property have suffered grievously at the hands of either their own government or their assailants (or both).

Recently, the Times of London took notice and one of their editorial talents sallied forth after 47 year old Gary Newlove was kicked to death outside his home as his children gazed on, horrified, for the horrific crime of having the temerity to object to a gang of youths vandalizing his families home.

Sadly, columnist Martin Samuel doesn't quite get it.

"Because it is absolutely impossible for a rational, civilised human being to confront the perpetrators of such a crime, as there is nothing in the mind of the average individual that allows him to challenge such wickedness and violent relish on equal terms. That is why we need law enforcers, with experience and back-up and a mandate to deal with any incident in the manner they see fit. When Mr. Newlove was lying on the floor having his brain toed into grisly submission, his horrified family was not looking for society to come around the corner and save him; they were looking for coppers."

He obviously hasn't made it all the way to awakening quite yet, but there is at least hope for him as indicated later in his article.

"Considering that the little gang of human effluence that gathered nightly outside Mr Newlove's house was prepared to commit murder if challenged, then to match the intensity of that blood lust, the 47-year-old sales manager would have had to leave his house armed with a semi-automatic weapon."

So, Mr. Martin - what say we again allow the subjects - the descendants of Wellington, Churchill, exemplars of heroism the world over - of the British Crown the ability to again defend themselves, their homes, and their loved ones.

And more, to fightback with the backing of their nations leaders against the miscreants and predators that inevitably feed in the muck at the bottom of any society, striking upwards at any target of ease and opportunity for either amusement or profit - like any viper.

The path, Mr. Martin, only begins at removing the shackles from the wrists of the police - it continues with the realization that the common man and woman can summon the emotional wherewithal to effectively resist evil, particularly when given the tools to do so effectively.

The difference between civilization and barbarism is not measured in terms of pacifism - rather, the civilized man or woman is sufficiently moral and committed to their society and their values that they will employ the level of defensive force necessary to stop dead a physical attack on their loved ones, their persons, their property, and their society.

The barbarian will initiate aggressive force simply to amuse or profit, with no higher purpose.

By and large, the British peoples are civilized. Trust them with the tools and the responsibility, Mr. Martin, and they will surprise you.

Thus endeth the lesson.

California Dreaming

It's always wise to keep an eye on events in California in the same sense that it's prudent to keep an eye on the Congress-critters. The congress critters are more direct, but legal trends seem to originate in California - often of a rather depressing nature.

California is one of those states whose constitution may be modified by citizen initiative without the intervention of the legislature.

In this instance, there's a delightfully libertarian initiative floating about (we can but hope for the required number of signatures that reads "The State of California, counties, cities and any governmental entities within the State shall not make any law or ordinance that prevents any citizen from owning or acquiring legally, property nor shall there be a limit to the amount of property acquired, grown or produced or owned.

There shall be no law(s) or ordinance language enacted that abridge this mandate
enacted by the citizens of the State of California."

Now, should this both make it on the ballot and pass, a number of intriguing possibilities eventuate - the initiative does not, for instance, distinguish between real and personal property - which has some interesting possibilities when viewed against various California "ownership restrictions" on such a wide range of items as land, marijuana, firearms, the full range of vehicles marketable in the other 49 states, and the many other restrictive statutes currently in place under California law.

This could, perhaps, be fun to watch. Even more so were the initiative more clearly written, but with California, one must take what little one gets.

Note also that this doesn't in any way touch upon zoning issues or, for that matter, the regulation of conduct. While, for example, it might theoretically bar the state from banning the possession of marijuana (or semi-automatic rifles) - it is sufficiently limited in scope that the Legislature could still bar or regulate the *use* of property.

And that, for California, is a huge step in the direction of liberty. For a normal state, not so much.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Oh Frabjous Day

God willing, Fred Phelps and his merry band are about to picket a group not cursed with large numbers of ninny-hammers preaching pacifism in the face of vast offensiveness.

Per Snopes and LawDog it seems that January 26th, the Westboro sorts will be picketing USMC Camp Lejeune. I quote from Snopes:

Westboro Baptist Church
(WBC Chronicles - Since 1955)
3701 SW 12th St. Topeka, Kansas 66604 785-273-0325 www.godhatesfags.com
Religious Opinion and Bible Commentary on Current Events
Saturday, January 12, 2008
NEWS RELEASE
WBC to picket Camp Lejeune.
God Hates the u.s. Marines.
The wonderful, spit-and-polish Marine is over
eight months pregnant and she says another
wonderful Marine raped her, and now on the
eve of his court martial where she is the star
witness against him, she turns up dead, and he
is a fugitive from justice. Wonderful. The few.
The proud. Based on our extensive experience
with Marines for over a decade, we can testify
that these are typical Marines.
WBC will picket the filthy, lawless Marine
Corps - at noon next Sat., Jan. 19 - at Camp
Lejeune, North Carolina; in religious protest
and warning: "Be not "'deceived; God is not
mocked." Gal. 6:7. God Hates Fags! & FagEnablers.
Ergo, God hates the Marines.
The Marine Corps is saturated with vile fags and dykes. It matters not
to them that they are violating the laws of God and man. Our leaders
know of the problem, but they refuse to fix it, due to pressure from
political leaders, because fags have enormous political influence - called
in Scripture "The power of the dog." Psa.22:20. And the phenomenon
is called by Tocqueville, "The worm in the American apple."
"Thou shalt not lie with mankind, as with womankind; it is abomination. "
Lev. 18:22.
"Let no man deceive you with vain words; for because of these things
cometh the wrath of God upon the children of disobedience. "
Eph.5:6.

I have great confidence in the iron discipline of the active-duty USMC. I also note, as have others, that the restraint of retired members of the USMC may be somewhat frayed by the presence of such vile excrement as Phelps and his band - the temptation to remove such excrement may well outweigh the cost of an encounter with the judicial system in the minds of some.

I don't know as I'd blame them, particularly if the rumor of a planned desecration of the Beirut Memorial is borne out.

I'm reminded of a teaching riddle I first ran across in an L. Neil Smith novel some years, attributed to (variously) the Lakota and Shoshone tribes "A thief is shot in the night, whose hand is on the bow? In all but the most technical sense, the hand on the bow is that of the thief who initiated the fateful situation.

Similarly, I can't summon much in the way of sympathy for those that would harass the Marines while surrounded by retired Marines subject only to civil law and not military discipline. The Marines, past and former, that I have met have largely been stellar examples of humanity possessed of ethics, intelligence, responsibility, and considered restraint far above that I find in the average person I run across. This may be all that saves Phelps and his miserable band.

I can't, however, force myself to hope for their well-being.

Sunday, January 13, 2008

A good afternoon

Despite weirdness on other fronts, all is far from gloom and doom. This afternoon I got to pick up one of my favorite people, the WallRat, at the airport after his sojourn abroad and plunk him back at his domicile only to be invited out to an awe-inspiring good Italian dinner down on Alki.

Good company, good conversation, and good food - no matter how unreasonably biological things may be turning on other fronts, these are sure to cheer.

He's one reason I'm conflicted about staying in the Big Soggy - he's a bit committed here, for one reason and another, and it's not that often you find a friend that good...so moving away is not, from that viewpoint, an especially pleasing notion.

Onwards & Upwards

Well, onwards and upwards. Given that recently I've been chatting with friends unemployed for a variety of reasons, I'm going to take my own advice - setting a firm goal for a minimum number of applications generated EVERY DAY, networking, and not being picky about immediate job - if I can physically do the job, and I earn more than the job costs, I need to take it while I look for the "right job".

Staving off the inevitable Bummed Outedness with work (helping mom get her place fixed up, selling belongings to convert to a reasonably liquid nest egg, etc ), and contemplating getting seriously mobile to find employment.

The one set of things I'm *not* doing is sitting about pouting, declaiming about how either life is unfair or that I'm a bad person somehow. For some odd reason, those approaches don't seem terribly productive.

Friday, January 11, 2008

Life

Since June I've been working at a job I honestly didn't feel I was very good at (which made it much easier to accept what I felt was justifiably minimal compensation), and it was a small good company with good people - but while things were going on with my Dad and such, I wasn't eager to bail out of a known situation for all the excitement and drama of a new one. So I stayed and tried to give it my best shot - regardless of whether I was enjoying myself.

Well, that came to an end today as the company and I parted ways - the owner of the company initiated it, and it was all very civilized, as we actually like each other. Packed my things and bugged out.

So, proto-geek that I am, I'm back in the job market and may be flitting back to California in pursuit of employment. Of course, this means leaving Mom in Seattle, not long after Dad has passed...on the other hand, I would likely be making twice what I made in Seattle so could be of more use, though in a different sense.

I'm conflicted.

In other fronts, it looks like I may have finally sold my place in California (having gotten rid of the evil tenant) and I'm swiftly unloading a car, as well. Things could be worse.

Seems to be a season of discontent all around.

Thursday, January 10, 2008

Bastardry Rampant...

Fame, fortune, and fantastic romance have thus far eluded me, but I've been blessed over the years with some truly wonderful friends from many walks of life. One friend, courtesy of a sibling, narrowly escaped the Middle East in his youth.

Another is a wonderful Dad suffering through another six years of building a decent relationship with his son on the "every other weekend" plan before he's free of the blood-sucking vindictive wench that once mesmerized him, while trying to build a new life and avoid bankruptcy courtesy of the ex and her vindictive well-monied relations.

Yet another friend slipped out of Canada to put distance between herself and a violently abusive ex-husband.

Some good folks over at Anarchangel are having some bad times and could use some help. They could lose their kids, and it doesn't sound like the kids'd be going to a good place.

I've been reading Chris and Mel's writings for about a year now, and though I've not had the pleasure of meeting them, they seem like good folks. I know darned well I'm not the most well-read blogger in the universe, but meander over, read what they have to say, and if you're inspired...chip in a bit.

Monday, December 31, 2007

Choices, Choices

Ok, this is time for folks to chime in and offer some thoughts...

I popped into the gun store the other day, and I am contemplating a trade/purchase.

Having given it a shot, it just plain FEELS WRONG to shoot offhand long gun (and I can't hit the broad side of the barn). Given that w/o a collarbone present on the strong side, lighting off anything much more vigorous than a .22 has all kinds of potential for unwanted festivity, the .45-70 Marlin and the 12ga pump seem more like dust collectors (pretty ones, in the case of the Marlin lever).

My current uber-discreet carry is the rather anemic Keltec P32. Dandy little pistol, accurate within its designed range, dependable. Won't say a word against it. .32acp, however, is just a bit anemic for my tastes given a choice.

However, for carry in situations where discretion is somewhat less critical or the local dress code somewhat more carry-friendly I'd like to upgrade from my Firestar 9mm. I'll admit right out I'm a partisan of the .45 family...

That said, as I meandered into the shop it was doing a booming business (always a good sign) with a staff of 6, a dedicated buyer, and knowledgeable and personable folks on that staff - all talking to customers ranging from grizzled oldsters to mid-twenties couples of variegated hues and orientations. My kinda place...for perfection all it needed was another couple of hundred square feet, a pot-belly stove with coffee brewing on it, and a chessboard.

I found myself with a series of choices in a compact .45 (and feel free to chime in with more). The compact Glock 30 .45, the Firestorm sub-compact .45, the Taurus PT 145, and finally the Springfield XD .45. All are new, all range between $530 and $589, and offer between 7-10 rounds in a magazine.

I figure I toss my 9mm Firestar into the deal (I've always viewed the 9mm as having the ballistics of a glorified .38 special) with the two long arms, and I come out ahead a fair chunk of closet space and down under $50, cash-wise. Might even make some money back. And I come out with a practical carry gun that doesn't have "better than nothing" as one of its virtues.

So. What do you think? I've always enjoyed firing the Glocks, haven't spent any range time with a Springfield of any flavor, about the same with the Taurus, and aside from the caliber, my only issues with my current Firestar 9mm is the caliber and the weight when compared with a Glock.

I'm still pondering, but hope to decide within a month or so....

Thursday, December 27, 2007

Global Warming, Portents, Journalism

Award-winning journalist and writer David Lindorff, pundit these last 34 years at the New York Times and then the Baltimore Chronicle (between books) on Christmas Eve submits an intriguing little editorial "Global Warming Will Save America from the Right...Eventually" wherein he waxes enthusiastic about the "drowning of the Red states" in the current liberal fantasy of global warming.

Read it, and get a good idea of what the left thinks of us...and what sort of fair journalistic coverage we can expect to get.

If it wouldn't harm so many so much, I might wish for Lindorff to get his mass migration - sans the malicious disenfranchisement.

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Changes & Needs

Merry Christmas.

On this holiday, I urge each of you to cherish your loved ones and the precious moments you share with each other. And listen to your heart - it'll tell you some damned silly things, but we're rather silly creatures, for what that's worth.

This was my first Christmas without my father. I didn't understand at the time why, but while writing the obituary, managing the legal/fiscal immediacies, doing the funeral arrangements, arranging a funeral reception with reasonable grace and dignity - the one thing that was important enough to me to shift me from sweetness/light/cooperation to "dig in the heels, obstinate, emotionally messy" was a desire to at least celebrate some portion of the holiday at the familiar family manse.

My younger brother and his wife had proposed to do the whole thing at their house, and I concurred in the dinner being there (reluctantly, as I am awful traditionalist - some things, in my view, should only be changed at gunpoint), but for reasons I didn't understand I dug in my heels at the "haul everything over there" part.

Ritual. For some more than others, it's something we cling to - patterns of behaviour that allow us to pretend that life makes sense, that all is right with the world - or that, at least, rightness is at least within the realm of the achievable. It can allow us to lie to ourselves convincingly about the degree to which we actually control our world. See "silly" above.

Despite our best efforts at responsible decisions, pragmatic planning, and prudence thousands of variables (variables to which our happiness or lack thereof are completely irrelevant) every day affect our fate - from the minutiae of arterial function, to human interaction, to grand piano's falling from great heights.

The routines and rituals of daily living allow an awful lot of us to either accept that, or drive the reality of that into "plausible deniability". Birthdays, holidays, Christmas.

See again, "we are a very silly species".

I understood why I'd dug in my heels so firmly on Christmas morning as my nieces, Mom, and younger brother and his wife opened packages - and while I opened a few, I was mainly relaxing for the first time in over a week, and possibly over six months.

I miss Dad, and if I could have him back in good health (something he'd not enjoyed in 20 some years), I'd be willing to take the bullet myself. But that's not going to, and can't, happen. But while I'd held myself together for the sake of the family, I realized the one thing *I* needed was a reassurance that life and family would go on in the face of our loss.

I'd bounced out at 8:30 am, done a whirlwind cleaning, made shortbread cookies, laid out an appetizer spread, prepared beverages, and done a last minute check to see that all was "in place".

And as my nieces squealed and giggled, and my brother and his wife warmed as they saw Mom enjoying herself - I leaned back, sipped my coffee, and breathed. And this evening, looking back, I understand (I think).

Tired, but satisfied. Mom thanked me about as effusively as a Midwestern Depression kid can for assembling Christmas when she couldn't - right down to stocking stuffers, fresh cookies, and presents under the tree. Turns out she needed that, too, and for pretty much the same reasons.

Ritual. Pretty damned silly, but pretty damned important - like a lot of emotion-based stuff.

I'm taking from this a fairly simple lesson - when folks are grieving, don't screw with their routines and rituals even if you have good intentions, unless it's absolutely necessary - and if you must change stuff up while folks are grieving for whatever reason, provide the closest simulcra to the abused ritual that you can - it may just be the ritual someone is clinging to for sanity in the face of tragedy. It's not nice to mess with it.

Passages...

My father has passed.

Over time he was son, brother, friend, soldier, singer, pianist, craftsman, organist, patron of the arts, philanthropist, husband – and to me, always my father.

The time we shared improved with age, and we made our peace as adults, and my own illness brought us, if anything, closer. We learned to laugh at each others eccentric humor, and largely tolerate each others eccentricities.

I took him to the old Prayer'n'Doctorin' hospital, now the Eastern Campus of Great Big Hospital Complex, in June for what we all anticipated was a brief hospitalization for a resurgence of cellulitis. It didn’t quite work out that way.

Six months later we are here and Dad has passed, having said a long and difficult goodbye, with a final rally we all hoped was the first signs of recovery. He was speaking again, with difficulty, but that was a relief to him frustrated conversationalist that he was.

For those unfamiliar, an ischemic bowel occurs when a greater or lesser portion of the gut dies off. In this case, this was complicated by multiple medications (Coumadin, among others) leading to severe internal bleeding and a prognosis best scored in negative numbers.

Sunday, Mom was conversing with Dad. Monday night, we got the call Dad was being shipped to Southern Major Medical Place. Screaming in from various directions, we found Dad medically crashing in slow motion. Tuesday we sat with him as he joined his final battle, until he passed at at approximately 7:30 in the evening.

After six long months of struggle, I can only believe that he is in a better place, chatting with his friends and family who have preceded him, sharing coffee and fellowship as he awaits each of us to join him in our own time.

Friday, November 2, 2007

Mwhahahahaha

LawDog took the high road and CrankyProf managed the direct approach. Marko was remarkably restrained, yet left no doubts regarding his view on the recent verdict.
I somehow doubt they are alone in their views.

Before, however, I collapse in a puddle of dark mirth I am reminded there are whole legions of folks who are ignorant of why Phelps' misfortune is the cause of such glee for so very many, many, many people across such a broad and diverse range of celebrants. Even though this case may eat up years in appeals by Phelps clan of attorneys and disbarred attorneys, this is the first real sign many have seen that the Phelps clan may suffer consequences for their general vileness.

Phelps worked hard for his notoriety, and his litigious history (as well as that of his flock) is well-documented in the biography he attempted to suppress via litigation, "Addicted to Hate".

I first became aware of Phelps when someone mentioned his website, learned more of him when he began picketing the funerals of AIDS victims, was horrified by his picketing of Matthew Shepherd's funeral, and ran across his flock in one of my rare foray's into the streets as a protester when his little clan of bigots came to picket a number of locations in my home town. When he began picketing military funerals, I was saddened, but unsurprised - it's about par for the course with Phelps and his so-called "Westboro Baptist Church".

All that said, while I'm sure beyond a shadow of a doubt there are greater villains than Phelps lurking beneath rocks and submerged in various cesspools, there are few better publicized than Phelps and the fellow denizens of the cesspit of the "Westboro Baptist Church" - so while I can't, in intellectual honesty, claim it couldn't have happened to a more deserving person or group thereof...I can say that he and his are certainly in the final qualifying rounds for deserving multiple multi-million dollar judgements against them.

I fondly hope that in the light of this decision that every single establishment, organization, or family that had the funeral of a loved one picketed sues the bejabbers out of Westboro crowd, both singly and as an organization.

A particularly scrofulous pox upon them.

Mwhwhahahahahaha