Oh man, I am kind of obsessed with these crazy people. I just live a block away from the Mt. Zion Baptist Church and I could hear the singing/yelling/fag-hating/anti-fag-hating through my bedroom window this morning: a pleasant blend of "2 4 6 8 Don't assume your kids are straight!" and "YOU WILL EAT YOUR BABIES." The nutter-butters had set up shop along Madison across the street from Mt. Zion Baptist Church, outnumbered at least five to one by protestors on the opposite side of the street. There was much honking and middle-fingering from passing cars.


The WBC folks are weirdly jovial. (Also, one of them was weirdly HOT, which was pointed out to me by someone from the SPD.) They have a whole schtick going—everything ends with a ZINGGG!!! ("Seattle is the city of not coffee, not cappuccino, but CRAPuccino!" ZINGGG!!!) I almost liked chatting with Jael—when I could get her to shut up about scripture for a minute (zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz), I asked her if they're enjoying their time in Seattle and what they're doing when they're not reminding Jews to "TAKE A BATH WITH SOME SOAP." It went like this:

"So, are you guys going to, like, go to the Space Needle?"
"Maaaaaaaybe! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!"
"I'm just wondering what you do in your free time—I don't mean that I want to hang out or anything."
"No, I wouldn't imagine."
"I mean, I'm sure you're lovely."


This is Jael.

Through the window of a car stopped at the light, I heard a little girl—probably 7 years old or so—ask her dad, "How could the Jews kill Jesus? You can't, like, go back in time."

A twentysomething man ran through yelling, "I LOVE DICKS!"

A middle-aged passerby commented, "I think they're nuttier than a bag of howler monkeys."

The WBC folks don't care at all—they just want to make a scene, get some attention, throw in some ZINGGG!!!!!!s, then move on. They're living trolls and there's no reasoning with them, so I just tried to have a chat.

I had this exchange with a creepy fish-faced WBC member who was yelling about feces.

"Wait, what about feces?"
"Wouldn't you like to know."
"I'm a reporter."
(skeptical) "Yeah, okay."
"I am!"
"What do you think I am if I'm not a reporter?"
"Oh. Oh man."
"Okay, I write for the Feces Times."
"Hey! There you go!"


More—including photos and video from Kelly O—coming later.