His group planned to picket the funeral of Tim McClean, the Canadian horribly killed by a homicidal psychopath on a bus. But they seem to have been blocked at the border by the Mounties. Phelps is one sick twisted motherfucker.
For that reason, I love the guy. He makes the closet sisters and brothers angry enough to come out. He makes their hetero friends angry enough to stand up and be counted. He makes other hetero folk take a good hard look at themselves and examine their feelings. Above all, he embarrasses the hell out of the more "respectable" haters and the segregationists. He's the loud tin can tied to their tail, the unwelcome poor relation at all of their parties, the lunatic uncle they'd prefer to keep in the attic out of sight. He is their image after the pious "concerned" figleaf falls off.
He worships the great homicidal psychopath in the sky; the mean old drunken grand-daddy in heaven who insists we all inherit sin like blue eyes and sickle cell anemia, and that someone must be killed for it. He loves that god who demanded the unconditional slaughter of the Amalekites. He believes in that god without apology.
As obscenities go, the lewdest public display at any Gay Pride event is very small potatoes compared to his funeral pickets. Our side has its loonies, but nothing like him; not even close. And our enemies are stuck with him whether they like it or not.
I wrote to Fred years ago thanking him for all his efforts on behalf of gay liberation, and to keep up the good work.
I never heard back from him.