Closing The Book on JackHoles

Okay. I'm back. I've taken a deep breath. Actually, I've taken a whole lot of deep breaths and have spent the entire day contemplating my next move. What, exactly, is there left to say?

I decided on this, which is pretty much exactly what my comment was on this post by Autobiography of My Feet.

I can't...I don't...What...Who...I can't...Are people really...Is it...GAH!

I can't come up with a sane, rational, thoughtful, non-expletive laced thing. I can't. It boggles my mind. It throws me into such a confusing, heart pounding, hand shaking RAGE that I can't even come up with a reply. There is nothing to be said to people, like John Gibson or Fred Phelps, because they're ignorant, hateful bastards. I'd like to think, if there is such a place as the Hell that John Phelps believes so fervently Heath Ledger is in, that HE will be the one who is destined to spend eternal damnation there. For spreading such hate. For being such a jacked up a*shole.

I'd like to think, for those of you who believe in God and the pearly gates and the depths of Hell and all that, that your God would prize someone who was a good father, a good citizen, a good, by all accounts, HUMAN BEING, above someone like Fred Phelps. Above someone who spends their time preaching hate. Above someone who lives their life guided by intolerance. But again, maybe that's just me.

And now I'm done. I can't think about it anymore today. I can't spend any more of my time seething and spending my time with my chidren preoccupied and filled with a hate of my own. I'm pouring a glass of wine, and I'm moving on. For now.