Mike Broemmel Takes on Westboro Baptist Church

NEW YORK - May 29, 2018 - PRLog -- Writer Mike Broemmel recently shared some of his experiences with the infamous Westboro Baptist Church while speaking at a convention in New York City.

The infamous Westboro Baptist Church garners renown for the practice of its members in picketing at funerals, particularly at the memorials of service women and men who died while on active duty. The church is headed up by Fred Phelps and primarily is populated by his children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.

The Westboro clan brandishes signs at their funeral pickets that are slathered with sentiments that include:

"Thank God for Maimed Soldiers"

"Planes Crash God Laughs"

"Thank God for IEDs" (hidden explosives used in Afghanistan and Iraq)

"Thank God for Dead Soldiers"

And the ubiquitous"

"God Hates Fags"

Although nothing that Westboro Baptist Church, its pastor and its minions have done to me compares with the egregious *stuff* they have done to others, I decided to share a few lighter moments in my own interactions through time with these folks.

My first direct encounter with Fred Phelps came in 1988. I was somewhat thinking of running for the state house of representatives that year - a prospect for which the reverend did not approve. He telephoned my office and began the phone conversation with a steamy stream of profanity that began "You God damn Sodomite ..." and frankly degraded from that point. I don't recall saying much of anything but:

"Reverend Phelps ..."

"Reverend Phelps ..."

"Reverend Phelps ..."

Intoning his name was done amidst the so-called minister of the Lord screaming good old fashioned obscenities at me and equating me with some sort of horned pig. Or maybe it was a goat. I no longer recall for certain.

In the pre-Internet era, and before the picketing began, the Westboro crew attacked by sending faxes far and wide ripping into a targeted person. For example, from time to time Fred and company would send out a fax attacking me, which included a photo of my face emblazoned with the numerical insignia for the anti-Christ - 666 - across my forehead.

In addition to being disjointed at best, the faxes spewed forth from Westboro Baptist Church were also remarkably contradictory. For example, on one occasion, while calling me a "faggot" they also accused me of participating in "kinky threesomes" in a local fine dining establishment with the state's attorney general (a woman) and a local, 70-something year old, county commissioner (a woman). Heck, the three of us never even ate together at the bistro in question.

When Bob Dole ran for president in 1996, I was delegated (perhaps relegated) to be on hand at the train station in Topeka, Kansas, to greet a train running from Chicago to the convention site in San Diego. Republican delegates were on the train and wanted to set foot in Dole's home state of Kansas.

The train arrived at the Topeka station at about two in the morning. Stalwarts to the end, the only members of the public on hand were Fred Phelps and a few of his family members - toting signs that include messages like "Bob Dole is a Fag" and "Elizabeth Dole is a Dike."

The delegates got off the train to be greeted by these placards. A well coiffed, immaculately dressed, martini glass holding Republican woman came up to me and asked: "Does that sign say Bob Dole is a fag?" Having no time to even attempt to explain the Phelps family and Westboro Baptist Church to a momentary passerby, I could only shrug my shoulders and respond "Probably."

I ultimately did run for elective office, the state senate, in 1992. During the summer, on my regularly scheduled trash day, I was leaving my home when I realized that my trash bags were gone, but everyone else on my block still had their garbage on hand. Rumors swirled for several years that the Phelps family members were not above stealing trash. In fact, a colleague of mine observed some Phelps family members rooting through the garbage of a mental health center in 1986 late at night.

I rather concluded that my garbage was in the clutches of the Westboro Baptist Church. But, I had a plan ...

I took a few garbage bags, loaded them up with trash, and opened multiple cans of tuna fish. I dumped the tuna into the bags, closed the bags up tightly and left them in my sweltering summer garage for a week. I dutifully took the garbage out to the curb on trash day.

Indeed, during the night, I observed a pickup truck rumble up, two heavy set women got out and nabbed the bags. Off they went.

I can't quite imagine the smell that greeted the Phelps crew when they opened the bags. I can report that my trash was never taken again ...

For more information about Mike Broemmel:

http://www.mikebroemmel.com/

For more information about the life story of Hedy Lamarr by Mike Broemmel:

https://hedylamarr.info/