Steampunk and Space Rock and Shakespeare, Oh My.

So remember last year, when my brilliant sidekick took over George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead and, with the help of his esteemed cohorts in Silver Machine, wrote a trippy new soundtrack for it? He’s at it again, this time taking on sound design duties for a local steampunk version of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Even if you’re not big on Shakespeare, you should try and see this one. It’s not quite the long, drawn-out affair Hamlet usually is, and it feels like it goes even more quickly than it does, thanks in part to the expert acting, direction and of course, the incredible music and sound effects. Moog Music generously donated equipment to ensure that the sound for this production is top-notch, and you will not be disappointed. Anthony Dorion and Chris Tanfield are there each night, using their face-melting synth and theremin skills to add another dimension to the music that Dorion recorded and compiled for the production. Local artists Mary Sparks, Lee Stanford, Matthew Westerman and Max Melner are all featured in the score, and if you’ve heard any of these talented musicians play, you know you’re in for something beyond good. For more information or to read my thoughts about the play itself, check out the article I posted on Ask Asheville. The play runs now through Saturday, May 4.

Anthony Dorion in his downtown studio, working on sound design for Hamlet

Anthony Dorion and Chris Tanfield getting ready to work their magic before a production of Hamlet

On English Classes, Guts and Expectations

Some of you might know that I went back to school recently. I am required, as part of the standard curriculum, to take an English class. I thought about testing out of the class, but decided to go through with it because I don’t exactly have a ton of experience writing the kind of things college professors probably want to see, and so maybe I’ll learn something about writing for that particular audience. I have to look at it the same way I looked at studying SEO and things like that. I submitted my first weeks essay notes (some of my answers were “a bit brief;” according to the professor’s feedback; he has a point, and I know now that one thing I need to work on is padding my responses), aced the grammar diagnostic (which looked frighteningly like what my kids did around grade four) and finally, this week, got around to writing the first real paper that was assigned. The instructions were to write a descriptive essay; the description could be of a person, an object, a place or an animal. I’m not sure that what I wrote is quite what the professor was looking for, but I’m still learning here. I shared it with my mother (you’ll see why) and she laughed so hard she cried, and then apologized (again, you’ll see why). I thought since she enjoyed it so much, you people might as well. Here, then, is my first official piece of college English writing.

Standoff

It sits in front of me, silent of course, and motionless, but somehow still mocking me. It knows that it has come down to me versus it, and only one of us can win. I know from experience that I will likely lose again, like I have so many times before. Still, I have to fight. I have to try.

The drab browns and greys do nothing to reduce its similarity to some fetid swamp, rank with the stench of those who came before me, tried to brave the horror here, and failed. The smell is nearly suffocating: flesh and earth and over it all, some vague smell that might have once been appetizing, in a different time, under very different circumstances. Now, it only adds a cruel layer of sweetness to the vile mess before me. Not even a strawberry muffin can overcome the travesty that is liver and Lima beans, cruelly placed before me by my mother. The bright red berry bits have been overshadowed, tainted by the ugliness beside them. What was once an eagerly anticipated treat now tastes like bribery, a pale attempt to make me think this meal might be worth eating.

“This isn’t food,” I say, indignant in the way that only nine-year-olds can be. “It’s guts.” I’m right, you know. It’s a liver, straight from the inside of a cow and cooked on the very same stove on which my mother made me pancakes that morning, back before she lost her mind and tried to poison me with the innards of some poor unfortunate bovine.

“Eat your guts,” says my father.

I ponder the wisdom of rolling my eyes or arguing, but while I may be a picky child, I am not a stupid child, and I err on the side of being allowed to watch The Cosby Show that night rather than being sent straight to bed. Instead I stomp pout-faced into the kitchen, retrieve the barbecue sauce and return to my chair. The ancient green vinyl of my padded seat seems to sigh in sympathy as I sit back down and cover the guts on my plate with a quarter-inch layer of the pungent condiment. Sauce oozes down the sides and I think, “This must have been what it looked like inside the cow.” Somehow, I manage not to vomit.

My father, unamused, offers me the bottle of ketchup he just poured onto his own Lima beans. This whole not-vomiting thing is getting harder by the second, and I squeak out a “No, thank you” before washing the bile back down my throat with a giant swig of milk.

My mother, the very woman who created this situation, glances at me. Her eyes are a lovely blue, her hair fluffy in curls around her shoulders. You’d never suspect this tiny, sweet-natured lady of making her children eat guts and beans. And yet, here is the proof: “Eat up, sweetie. Try your muffin.”

I am expected to eat this; all of it, the liver and its accompanying onions, looking like nothing more than neatly segmented parasites, translucent worms just waiting to infect me with some horrid cow disease I’m too young to know about just yet. Anthrax, maybe, or AIDS; I’m nine, I don’t know the difference. The muffin, oh, the poor abused muffin, placed there only to entice me to the table, now rendered inedible by its proximity to one bean that slid away from the rest and is now, in a vulgar display of affection, nestled next to it… this too must be eaten, along with the offending bean and its compatriots. There is no way out of this. I will sit here till the butter on the beans congeals, till my milk goes sour, till, Heaven forbid, I fall asleep face-first into the slab of worm-infested guts sitting squarely in the middle of my Strawberry Shortcake place mat.

I have no choice. The enemy has won again. Knife in one hand, fork in the other, I make the first cut. There is no going back now. Defeated, I begin to eat my dinner.

Asheville Writers in the Schools Write-A-Thon

Hi friends,

Asheville Writers in the Schools is a non-profit organization that places writers in local schools to teach kids about the joys of reading and writing. I’m participating in a “Write-A-Thon” to raise funds for the program; I’m hoping it will help inspire me, too, to complete the children’s book I’ve been promising baby girl and her brothers for years. If you’re like to contribute and help sponsor me in this, the link is below. Any little bit helps, and even if you can’t donate (believe me, I totally understand money being tight; I can’t afford to sponsor myself either) feel free to share the link. Oh, and I also have a chance to win an awesome weekend writer’s retreat here in the Blue Ridge Mountains. How awesome would that be? Thanks in advance for your support, both in this and through your continued positive feedback for the silly little things I write. You people are awesome.

Here’s the link to sponsor me in the Write-A-Thon: http://www.mountainofwords.org/adults-writers.html

Contact Info for Westboro Baptist Members

Disgusting

Where do I even start with this?

You are not required, as a human being, to weep when you read the account of the murders of 20 small children in an elementary school. You are not required to turn to your partner and ask what the hell happened, to feel a lead ball of terror in your intestines when you think of sending your own children off to school, to post a Facebook status about it asking why and how this could happen, knowing there are no answers, blindly seeking them anyway. You are not required, as a human being, to even acknowledge that the shooting occurred.

You are required, as a human being, to have some compassion about the fact that it DID happen. Children died. Parents are grieving. The world is grieving. Not because we all knew someone at the school, or because it triggered memories of something similar that affected us directly. We grieve because these were children. We grieve because they were slaughtered in a place that was supposed to be safe for them, among the comforting smell of fresh Crayolas and the new-plastic scent of those thin little nap mats piled in the corner of every kindergarten classroom in the country. Someone needs to be punished, we think; we know this with the utmost certainty. Whether it be god or the government, the mental health professionals that may have let the gunman slip through the cracks, liberals, conservatives, someone has to be at fault.

And the “people” (I use that term loosely; there is little if anything human about them) of Westboro Baptist Church have decided that the people who need to be punished are the parents of these tiny murder victims. The parents, who are already suffering more than most of us can possibly comprehend, who are trying to cope with the fact that their children have been irrevocably removed from their lives, who are now faced with empty bedrooms and unopened Christmas gifts and the absolute agony of having to decide what to do with that wee pair of shoes left by the front door. The sick, ignorant, inbred degenerates at Westboro Baptist have decided to show up at the children’s funerals–not to lend support and comfort, which might ACTUALLY be what Jesus would want them to do, but to use this tragic situation as a platform to draw attention to their disgusting beliefs, the core of which appears to be that god hates homosexuals but is totally okay with you fucking your own sister.

By now, you may know that Anonymous hacked WBC’s web site and published all of the members’ contact information. I got that information from this site, but I copied and pasted it below, just in case the link failed to work or was taken down. Normally, I wouldn’t post people’s contact information like this; it reeks of minor high school delinquency, prank-calling and harassing people. The thing is, if you want to show up at the funeral of a child with the sole intention of causing further distress to the family and spewing filth, fuck you, you deserve to be harassed. You deserve to be called on your despicable behavior. Will it change their minds? It’s highly unlikely. But that’s not really the point. The point is to disrupt their lives and to call attention to the pathetic pieces of human waste that they are.

The list of members and their contact information is below. They might enjoy receiving information from the following resources:

http://www.nambla.org -The North American Man Boy Love Association would love to have them as members.

http://www.ireadult.com -A free magazine for gay men. Wouldn’t Mr. Phelps love an issue?

http://www.satanicaeons.com/ -Do the WBC members a favor and get them a subscription to updates from this site.

http://www.gayposters.com/gayhoca.html -Send ‘em a Christmas card! (Thanks to my friend Amy A. B. for this link)

*Please note: These people are ignorant pieces of shit, but I do not support, suggest or condone violence against anyone. Call them up, write and tell them what you think of them, give them generous gifts of free subscriptions to magazines their postman would love to see in their mailboxes, but no matter how tempting it is and how much they may deserve it, do not get yourselves in trouble by doing anything to harm anyone.

Westboro Baptist Church

3701 SW 12th St

Topeka, KS 66604

Phone: 785-273-0325

Email: wbclist@speakfree.net

Email: info@phelpschartered.com

Email: chockenbarger@cox.net

http://www.godhatesfags.com/

Phelps Law Firm

Phelps Chartered

1414 SW Topeka Boulevard

Topeka, KS 66612

PO Box 1886

Topeka, KS 66601

Phone: 785-233-4162

Fax: 785-233-0766

Fax: 785-969-9017

Email: info@phelpschartered.com

Email: slpr@cox.net

Email: kjhoffice@speakfree.net

http://www.phelpschartered.com/

============================================================================================

—     Abigail Phelps

Lawyer

Employee at SRS – Kansas Juvenile Justice Authority

Born 1968

Daughter of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr

3636 SW Churchill

Topeka, KS 66604

Email: bgail@speakfree.net

Home: 785-273-7262

work: 785-296-7709

—     Barak Phelps-Davis

Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s

Son of Rebekah Phelps-Davis

—     Benaiah Phelps

Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s

Son of Timothy “Tim/Timmy” B. Phelps

—     Benjamin C. Phelps

Born 1976

Son of Fred W. Phelps, Jr

Wife of Mara Jones-Phelps

3632 SW Churchill

Topeka, KS 66604

3636 SW Huntoon St

Topeka, KS 66604

Email: idontreadthisemail@godhatesamerica.com

Phone: 785-228-9239

Home: 785-233-4162

Phone: 785-228-9239

Phone: 785-273-0277

Phone: 785-273-1080

—     Betty Joan Schurle-Phelps

Lawyer at Phelps Chartered

Born 1952

Wife of Fred W. Phelps, Jr

3600 SW Holly Lane

Topeka, KS 66604

Phone: 785-273-0438

Home: 785-272-4135

Work: 785-296-3195

—     Brent D. Roper-Phelps

Human Resources Lawyer for NAIC

Employee at Foot Locker

Born 1963

Husband of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper

3640 SW Churchill

Topeka, KS 66604

3636 SW Churchill

Topeka, KS 66604

Phone: 785-273-0277

Phone: 785-273-7262

Phone: 785-273-1080

Phone: 785-273-3726

Home: 785-273-1445

Home: 785-273-0277

Home: 785-272-1619

Home: 785-273-0325

Home: 785-273-0325

Work: 785-233-4162

Work: 785-273-0068

—     Carmen A Phelps

Relative of Daniel F. Phelps

2621 SE Granger St

Topeka, KS 66605

Phone: 785-267-5157

—     Caleb Phelps

Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s

Son of Timothy “Tim/Timmy” B. Phelps

—     Charles F. Hockenbarger

Born 1974

Son of Karl D. Hockenbarger

Husband of Rachel I. Phelps-Hockenbarger

1284 SW Hillsdale

Topeka, KS 66604

3220 SW 17th St

Topeka, KS 66604

Phone: 785-232-1570

Phone: 785-232-2485

Home: 785-271-1619

Work: 785-273-0325

—     Charles William “Bill” Hockenbarger

Member of Christian Identity

Born 1953

Husband of Mary Hockenbarger

711 NW Page

Topeka, KS 66617

3600 SW Holly Ln

Topeka, KS 66604

Email: chockenbarger@cox.net

Phone: 785-272-8569

Phone: 785-232-2485

Home: 785-246-1567

Work: 785-273-0325

Fax: 785-233-4162

—     Chris Davis-Phelps

Born 1955

Husband of Rebekah Phelps-Davis

1216 SW Cambridge

Topeka, KS 66604

Phone: 785-272-7035

Home: 785-272-7741

—     Daniel F. Phelps

Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s

Son of Timothy “Tim/Timmy” B. Phelps

2621 SE Granger St

Topeka, KS 66605

Phone: 785-267-5157

—     Danielle Phelps

Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s

Daughter of Timothy “Tim/Timmy” B. Phelps

3119 SW Randolph Ave #204

Topeka, KS 66611

Phone: 785-267-3253

—     David Hockenbarger

Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s

Son of Karl D. Hockenbarger

—     Davis R. Phelps

Relative of Chris Davis-Phelps

1216 SW Cambridge Ave

Topeka, KS 66604

Phone: 785-272-7741

Phone: 785-272-7035

—     Deborah Kay Hockenbarger

Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s

Wife of Karl D. Hockenbarger

1929 SW Lane

Topeka, KS 66604

Home: 913-233-1848

Work: 785-296-3959

—     Deborah Phelps-Davis

Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s

Daughter of Rebekah Phelps-Davis

—     Elisha Phelps

Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s

Daughter of Timothy “Tim/Timmy” B. Phelps

—     Elizabeth “Libby” Phelps

Born ~ 1982-3-4

Daughter of Fred W. Phelps, Jr

2001 SW 2nd Street

Topeka, KS 66606

Home: 785-234-9694

Work: 785-233-0822

—     Elizabeth Marie Phelps

Born 1962

Lawyer at Phelps Chartered

Manager at Sheltered Living, Inc

Daughter of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr

2001 SW 2nd Street

Topeka, KS 66606

Home: 785-234-9694

Work: 785-233-0822

—     Fred W. Phelps, Jr

Lawyer at Phelps Chartered

Staff Attorney for Kansas Department of Corrections

Born 1953

Son of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr

Wife of Betty Joan Schurle-Phelps

3600 SW Holly Lane

Topeka, KS 66604

Email: fredjr@godhatesfags.com

Phone: 785-273-0438

Home: 785-273-0529

Work: 785-296-3195

—     Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr

Founder of Westboro Baptist Church

Pastor of Westboro Baptist Church

Born 1929

Husband of Margerie “Margie” M. Simms

Westboro Baptist Church

3791 SW 12th Street

Topeka, KS 66604

Po Box 1886

Topeka, KS 66601

Email: wbclist@speakfree.net

Email: info@phelpschartered.com

Phone: 785-272-4135

Phone: 785-273-0325

Phone: 785-273-0338

Fax: 785-273-9228

—     Gabriel Phelps-Roper

Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s

Son of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper

—     George Stutzman

Born ~ 1950′s/1960′s

Fiance of Taylor Drain

—     Gideon Hockenbarger

Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s

Son of Charles F. Hockenbarger

Son of Rachel I. Phelps Hockenbarger

—     Grace Phelps-Roper

Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s

Daughter of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper

—     Hezekiah Phelps

Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s

Son of Timothy “Tim/Timmy” B. Phelps

—     Isaiah Phelps-Roper

Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s

Son of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper

—     Jack Wu

Born ~ 1982-83-84

Westboro Baptist Member

12400 W 161st St

Olathe, KS 66062

Home: 913-897-0607

—     Jacob M. Phelps

Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s

Son of Jonathan Baxter Phelps

—     Jacob Z. Phelps

Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s

Son of Fred W. Phelps, Jr

—     Jael Phelps

Nursing Student

Born ~ 1984-5-6

Daughter of Jonathan Baxter Phelps

—     James Hockenbarger

Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s

Son of Karl D. Hockenbarger

1929 SW Lane

Topeka, KS 66604

Home: 913-233-1848

Work: 785-296-3959

—     Jennifer Hockenbarger

Born 1977

Daughter of Karl D. Hockenbarger

Wife of Samuel Phelps-Roper

1929 SW Lane

Topeka, KS 66604

Home: 913-233-1848

Work: 785-296-3959

—     Jonah Phelps-Roper

Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s

Son of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper

—     Jonathan Baxter Phelps

Lawyer at Phelps Chartered

Son of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr

Husband of Paulette Phelps-Ossiander

Born 1959

840 SW Watson

Topeka, KS 66606

Work: 785-233-4162

—     Joseph Phelps

Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s

Son of Jonathan Baxter Phelps

—     Joshua F. Phelps-Roper

Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s

Son of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper

—     Joshua M. Phelps

Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s

Son of Jonathan Baxter Phelps

—     Josaiah Hockenbarger

Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s

Son of Charles F. Hockenbarger

Son of Rachel I. Phelps Hockenbarger

—     Karl D. Hockenbarger

Member of Christian Identity

Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s

Son of Charles William “Bill” Hockenbarger

Husband of Deborah Kay Hockenbarger

1929 SW Lane

Topeka, KS 66604

Home: 913-233-1848

Work: 785-296-3959

—     Katherine Hockenbarger

Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s

Daughter of Karl D. Hockenbarger

3642 SW Huntoon St

Topeka, KS 66604

Phone: 785-783-7217

—     Lauren Drain

Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s

Daughter of Stephen “Steve” Drain

—     LeAnn Phelps-Brown

Lawyer

Employee of Shawnee County Sheriff’s Department

Born 1966

Wife of Timothy “Tim/Timmy” B. Phelps

3743 SW 12th Street

Topeka, KS 66604

Phone: 785-273-0365

Home: 785-273-4780

Work: 785-291-5100

Work: 785-233-4162

—     Luci Drain

Born ~ 1950′s

Daughter of Stephen “Steve” Drain

—     Luke Phelps-Roper

Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s

Son of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper

—     Lydia Phelps-Davis

Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s

Daughter of Rebekah Phelps-Davis

—     Malachai Phelps

Born 2005

Great-Grandson of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr

—     Mara Jones-Phelps

Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s

Wife of Fred W. Phelps, Jr

3120 SW Westover Rd

Topeka, KS 66604

Phone: 785-235-6999

—     Margerie “Margie” Marie Simms-Phelps

Born ~ 1930′s

Wife of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr

Westboro Baptist Church

3701 SW 12th Street

Topeka, KS 66604

Email: wbclist@speakfree.net

Email: info@phelpschartered.com

Phone: 785-273-0325

Phone: 785-273-0338

Fax: 785-273-9228

—     Margie Jean Phelps

Lawyer at Phelps Chartered

Employee of Kansas Department of Corrections

Born 1956

Daughter of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr

3734 SW 12th

Topeka, KS 66604

Landon State Office Building 900

Topeka, KS 66612

Email: margiep77@cox.net

Phone: 785-273-0365

Home: 785-273-7380

Work: 785-296-3128

Work: 785-296-3317

—     Margy “Margie”/”Megan” Phelps-Roper

Born ~ 1985-6-7

Daughter of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper

—     Mary Hockenbarger

Child Care Provider

Born ~ 1950′s

Wife of Charles William “Bill” Hockenbarger

711 NW Page

Topeka, KS 66617

Email: chockenbarger@cox.net

Home: 785-246-1567

—     Micaiah Phelps-Davis

Born ~ 1991-2-3

Son of Rebekah Phelps-Davis

—     Noah Phelps-Roper

Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s

Son of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper

—     Paulette Phelps-Ossiander

Office Assistant at Phelps Chartered

Born 1960

Wife of Jonathan Baxter Phelps

840 SW Watson

Topeka, KS 66606

Work: 785-233-4162

—     Rachel Hockenbarger

Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s

Daughter of Charles F. Hockenbarger

Daughter of Rachel I. Phelps Hockenbarger

3600 SW Holly Ln

Topeka, KS 66604

Phone: 785-272-8569

Phone: 785-272-8559

—     Rachel I. Phelps-Hockenbarger

Lawyer at Phelps Chartered

YMCA Fitness Instructor

Born 1965

Daughter of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr

Wife of Charles F. Hockenbarger

1284 SW Hillsdale

Topeka, KS 66604

3734 SW 12th St

Topeka, KS 66604

1216 SW Cambridge Ave

Topeka, KS 66604

3220 SW 17th St

Topeka, KS 66604

Phone: 785-232-1570

Phone: 785-273-0365

Phone: 785-272-7035

Home: 785-271-1619

—     Rebekah Phelps-Davis

Lawyer at Phelps Chartered

Born 1961

Daughter of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr

Wife of Chris Davis

1216 SW Cambridge

Topeka, KS 66604

Home: 785-272-7741

—     Rebekah Phelps-Roper

Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s

Daughter of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper

1205 SW Polk St #5B

Topeka, KS 66612

Phone: 785-783-3722

—     Samuel Phelps-Roper

Born 1979

Son of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper

Husband of Jennifer Hockenbarger

3640 SW Churchill

Topeka, KS 66604

3708 SW Churchill

Topeka, KS 66604

Phone: 785-228-9287

Phone: 785-273-1080

Home: 785-273-1445

Home: 785-273-0277

Home: 785-272-1619

Home: 785-273-0325

Home: 785-273-0277

Home: 785-273-0325

Work: 785-233-4162

Work: 785-273-0068

— Sara Phelps

Born ~ 1980-1-2

Daughter of Fred W. Phelps, Jr

3600 SW Holly Ln

Topeka, KS 66604

Phone: 785-0273-0438

—     Seth Phelps

Born ~ 2003-4-5

Great-Grandson of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr

—     Sharon M. Phelps

Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s

Grand-Daughter of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr

4128 SW 6th Ave #308

Topeka, KS 66606

Phone: 785-228-9323

—     Shirley Phelps

Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s

Daughter of Timothy “Tim/Timmy” B. Phelps

—     Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper

Lawyer at Phelps Chartered

Born Oct. 10, 1957

Daughter of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr

Wife of Brent D. Roper

3640 SW Churchilll

Topeka, KS 66604

Email: slpr@cox.net

Email: kjhoffice@speakfree.net

Email: th8asluf@godhatesamerica.com

Email: brid1611kjv@bellsouth.net

Email: info@phelpschartered.com

Phone: 785-273-1080

Phone: 785-272-8559

Home: 785-273-1445

Home: 785-273-0277

Home: 785-272-1619

Home: 785-273-0325

Home: 785-273-0277

Home: 785-273-0325

Work: 785-233-4162

Work: 785-273-0068

—     Stephen “Steve” Drain

Born ~ 1950′s

Husband of Luci Drain

3801 SW 12th St

Topeka, KS 66604

Phone: 785-228-1623

—     Stephen Hockenbarger

Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s

Son of Charles F. Hockenbarger

Son of Rachel I. Phelps Hockenbarger

—     Taylor Drain

Born ~ 1991-2-3

Daughter of Stephen “Steve” Drain

Fiance of George Stutzman

—     Theresa Davis

Born ~ 1950′s/1960′s

Family Member of Chris Davis

3632 SW 12th Street

Topeka, KS 66604

Work: 785-291-7000

—     Timothy “Tim”/”Timmy” B. Phelps

Lawyer

Employee of Shawnee County Department of Corrections

Born 1963

Son of Fred Waldron Phelps, Sr

Husband of LeAnn Phelps-Brown

3743 SW 12th Street

Topeka, KS 66604

Phone: 785-273-0365

Home: 785-273-4780

Work: 785-291-5100

Work: 785-233-4162

—     Timothy Phelps Jr

Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s

Son of Timothy “Tim/Timmy” B. Phelps

—     Victoria Phelps

Born ~ Mid-1980′s/Mid-1990′s

Daughter of Timothy “Tim/Timmy” B. Phelps

—     Zacharias Phelps-Roper

Born ~ Mid-1970′s/Mid-1980′s

Son of Shirley Lynn Phelps-Roper

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Domain WhoIs Information:

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godhatesfags.com

westborobaptistchurch.com

beastobama.com

godhatestheworld.com

godhatesamerica.com

priestsrapeboys.com

blogs.sparenot.com

jewskilledjesus.com

signmovies.com

godhatesislam.com

godhatesthemedia.com

Registrant:

Westboro Baptist Church

PO BOX 1886

Topeka, KS 66601-1886

US

785-233-4162

Domain Name: GODHATESFAGS.COM

Administrative Contact:

Phelps, Benjamin idontreadthisemail@godhatesamerica.com

PO BOX 1886

Topeka, KS 66601-1886

US

785-233-4162

Technical Contact:

Phelps, Benjamin idontreadthisemail@godhatesamerica.com

PO BOX 1886

Topeka, KS 66601-1886

US

785-233-4162

Record last updated 09-16-2011 08:01:38 AM

Record expires on 11-06-2017

Record created on 01-22-1997

Domain servers in listed order:

NS1.ENTERPRISE.BLACKLOTUS.NET   204.69.234.1

NS2.ENTERPRISE.BLACKLOTUS.NET   204.74.101.1

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Domain WhoIs Information:

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phelpschartered.com

Registered through: GoDaddy.com, LLC

Domain Name: PHELPSCHARTERED.COM

Created on: 17-Apr-03

Expires on: 17-Apr-13

Last Updated on: 16-Jul-11

Registrant:

Phelps-Chartered

1414 S. Topeka Blvd.

Topeka, Kansas 66612

United States

Administrative Contact:

Phelps-Roper, Shirley kjhoffice@speakfree.net

Phelps-Chartered

1414 S. Topeka Blvd.

Topeka, Kansas 66612

United States

7852334162

Technical Contact:

Phelps-Roper, Shirley kjhoffice@speakfree.net

Phelps-Chartered

1414 S. Topeka Blvd.

Topeka, Kansas 66612

United States

7852334162

November Again.

this is when the darkness crawls in
through my eyes, making pupils grow
darker than normal with no sunlight anywhere
nothing reflecting, the night
settles in to my bones, through my pores
makes my blood thick and slow, turns my lungs
to cement
i can’t breathe
like
this
and the clouds gather, silently mocking
creating a haven for chill winds and bitter cold
air
i am gasping
for one
last look
at the sky
and i will mark off all the squares on the wall
turn the pages of cheap dime-store paper in hope
that there’s hope
in the passage of
time
was created
to make us all
suffer, a game that we play
mindless, hand-clapping, rote recitation
it’s time
to hang on
and the silence is broken, though effort
i hardly can spare, making faces that look almost normal
the words, almost just like the ones that i think
i should say and i’m left
at the end
worn out, shaken
exhausted
it’s too much, it’s never
enough
i can’t say
anything
and the silence is
comfort
the silence is
all i can
stand
anymore
and the small hands that reach for me
i can’t let go
they are the brushes that paint my existence
nothing is real
without
their perception
without their creation
of who i should be and that place
right beside me
just to the left of a
time-worn tattoo is the
light that shows everything
painted to life.

command.

and then there’s this
conversely
bleak grey screens flashing
disco balls of whatthefuck
screaming
buy me feel me hear me
fuck me
leashed together, shackled minds
stay in step
don’t
fall
out
let the great ones take you down the path to
everything is
a-ok
wash your feet in the bloody lamb, facing east
and pork’s a sin and
you were SAVED from the chance to
acknowledge your sins
give yourselves some credit,
loves
points for creativity
the universe provides for
god’s will and what it doesn’t
you don’t need
even life.
shanti om, hallelujiah
pass the judgment
to your left.
black feet, black teeth, bellies fat with hunger
maggots teeming on the faces of the children in the trash cans
one meal a day and get your head blown off for freedom
to own oil
and half the world
pro
fucking
life,
right?
you, with your signs screaming love’s a sin and
go to hell
which of these poor sad condemned souls
started as a cell
you sanctified?
right hand on your heart you pray
to gaudy demigods
i pledge allegiance
to the state
(craven images, and all-
did you forget?)
you can’t make this shit up.

planet.

under this
blackbright
sky
i was in your
hands.

i held the scent of
fire
under my tongue
it made me high
it made me sleep
it made me

what was that
you said?
our words are mumbles, something like
dreams
half-awake, forgotten
what was this.

we are hazy filters layered over an already
pitch-perfect
photograph

herbal tea and jazz
picnics on the floor and waiting
patiently
to will our sun-blind eyes
to focus.

rot.

what if one day
our hands didn’t match
if, while walking
they didn’t draw together
magnetic
what if your fingers
didn’t recognize
mine?

what if one day
we shared a seat
without resting our feet
on each other
or my head finding that place
just to the left of your shoulder
that seems to remember
exactly
the shape of my skull

what if
i tried
to place it there
and the force of not belonging
made it shatter
and the sticky tar inside
came pouring out
stench of remembering
thick in the air
binding our limbs
together

what if i rotted there
next to you

would you die too?

spit.

Came across a folder of things I wrote but didn’t publish, for one reason or another. Everything I write is somewhat abstract, and while the more positive things might be inspired by a particular person or event, the darker, angry ones almost never are. I go through phases in which I’m appalled by our society, public figures, ignorance, hate; I sometimes fall into memories that are tangled up with others, bits of nightmares and fears coming together in my mind and making it restless and shaky, until I have to put all of that rage somewhere. Those words are some of my best, but I’m still reluctant to publish them, both to avoid unnecessarily angering people to whom the words have no connection, and to avoid potentially hurting anyone who might think they were the impetus for anything particularly vile I might come out with. I don’t write with the intent to hurt anyone. I write with the intent to clear my mind, and when I’m in these dark and vulgar phases, the wrath is almost always self-directed, or the result of some horrid aspect of the world out there that I simply can’t cope with any other way.

That being said, I found this shit, and it’s good, and here’s a bit of it.

spit.

dear one,
with your eyes blacked and your lip split
bruises marking the path you’ve walked
in order to save face
does the mirror tell you
when to breathe,
to spit-
to swallow?

tie your laces together, sunshine
walk with tiny steps to where
you know you shouldn’t be
break the things you should have loved
to own what no one
wants.

spine.

you don’t
matter
to the people who
walk along your spine in
military-issue
combat boots
lined with the skin
of your brothers
bite the fucking curb
wear the flag
let it wrap around
your throat
and suffocate
your thoughts-

drink the water.

where is the remote?
behind the couch
with the bible and your stash of
porn
girl on girl
god hates fags
we’re all in hell.

out the window you are watching
nations fall
we are
killing
children
close the curtain
pick up the phone
make a call
to change the world
your vote
on american idol
could determine the fate
of your soul.

dark room, prison bars
you love THIS you eat
THIS you fear
THIS-
we will inject you
with the things we think
you need
we will inject you
make you numb
shhh…
it doesn’t matter to you
now.

breathe.