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“And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea.”
Proving that the rotten apple doesn't fall far from the decaying log, Fred Phelps' lovely daughter, Shirley Phelps-Roper, is now the spokesperson for her father's Westboro Baptist Church. Westboro is that Kansas church that imagines that God hates fags, jews, and related phenomena. For Shirley to be its spokesperson, when it her heart she despises everything the church stands for, takes the courage of a lioness. Shirley Phelps-Roper smiles likes she means it and privately curses her luck every day of her godforsaken life.
Shirley once yearned to be known as one of the major ambassadors of love and universal acceptance of her generation. She planned to become a hippie, high on life and weed and able to take the message of "Make Love Not War" to the liberated masses. Unfortunately, due to a case of mirrored neurons - resulting from extreme inbreeding combined with the Phelps' tradition of dropping their babies on their heads weekly - by the time Shirley's message of peace and cooperation travels from her frontal lobes and reaches her voice box and tongue, it gets garbled. When she intends to preach about loving your neighbor as thyself, of turning the other cheek, or longs to get deep-down into the scary bible stuff like Judge Not and Ye Shall Not Be Judged, her brain's electrical system gets all entangled in the neuron pathways, receptors firing off willy nilly and brain-farts going sideways every which way, everything moving but without knowing the correct destination, and instead of "Love Your Neighbor" it comes out GOD HATES FAGS. So when she wants to tell the world to feed the hungry, cloth the poor, and house the homeless, she actually sounds like a newly rabid monkey turning on its mate. And when she wants to wrap her shapely arms around everyone and give them that patented Shirley hug and kiss on the turned-cheek, she starts twitching and hitting the air and then the foaming starts.
Poor misunderstood Shirley, an intelligent caring advocate for bestality, gay polygamy, and marijuana legalization in her heart and a loony tunes activist in reality. She tries to do the right thing, but because of her brain damage and the time spent portraying the character she has to play to keep her father happy, she ends up falling on her face in a puddle of shit that she'd swear with her dying breath is the finest swiss chocolate she'd ever eaten.
|Date of birth:||October 31, 1951|
|Place of birth:||Castle Church in Wittenberg, Germany. Check for the birthmark of an elk the next time she blows you.|
|Known for||Unruly public behaviour, screaming at sinners, fire and whoopie cushion debating style, gay hair style, bears her weight well, hates dead soldiers|
|Occupation||Attorney, terrorist, pain in her own ass|
|Religion||Five Points Calvinism, Two Parts Gin.|
|Spouse||Lars Roper, Goddess bless this man's patience|
Don't be fooled by Fred Phelps' smoothness and people skills. When he goes on a wacky that wacky is really Three-Stooges wacky. So in one of his titanic frenzies of religious ecstasy - Phelps tried to describe them once but it came out sounding like a bear bent over - he decided to take his very pregnant wife, travel to Europe, camp out in a used Volkswagon in Wittenberg, Germany, and make sure that when his daughter Shirley entered this life she'd enter it while being nailed to the door of the Castle Church. And as Fred Phelps grabbed his daughter from out of the mother's womb, hoisted her four feet in the air, and nailed her to the door, he started preaching about fags.
The man has his share of problems.
Ever since her second birthday Shirley has had endure these regular faggings from her father. She always had a strong masochistic compulsion, an unfortunate side-symptom of her form of "the damage", and she had to hear her dad rave about GOD HATES FAGS every day of her life. Shirley humored the old man. She knew that he'd planned her destiny years before her birth, and that in his non-medicated mind she was supposed to act as his vessel to spawn the neo-Aryan race of Phelpites. Shirley still plays along, and even though she exhibits the key qualities of Phelpite leadership - ginger hair and a preference for bold fonts - she lives a secret inner-life where peaches are rainbows and breasts are as soft as free-floating seaweed.
Even with her handicap, Shirley has carved out a faked but successful career as a devout member and the spokesperson for the Westboro Baptist Chuch. Consisting almost entirely of white people, grammar school dropouts and homeschooled kids, the church's usual form of service is to warn people about a terrible entity called GOD. They do this by displaying colorful signs with poetic verses. Some of Shirley's favorites are:
- GOD HATES FAGS
- GOD HATES JEWS
- GOD HATES ME
- GOD HATES YOU
- GOD HATES DOG
- GOD HATES FROG
- GOD HATES CANADA
- GOD HATES EVERYWHERE
She wrote a couple of those herself.
Shirley's two daughters left Westboro Baptist Church in 2013 after finding out that it was more likely that God hates the Phelps clan more than She hates fags. The daughters boarded the last train to Clarksville and never looked back, and later learned that their mother secretly cried with joy that her precious children decided to escape the hellhole that is her day job.
Shirley's on-line resume contains work as a summer intern at a body sushi platter place, where she was known as "the crazy girl" that everyone knew was not only gay, but lots gay.