Sinking lower and lower.

I recently expressed concern to a coworker that, based on my own experience, I can no longer consider "rock bottom" to be a useful concept. Obviously, any person who asks, "How can this get any worse?", will be immediately punished with an answer. But one imagines that, after a certain point, things are so bad that they cannot actually get worse. And one is wrong for thinking that.

I did not so much develop this belief as get reminded of it; over the course of my last work week, each day got noticeably worse than the day before it. But enough about me; let's look at an example from the outside world. I am reminded here of an awful variation of the "Candy Man" song (well, not so much reminded as inspired to create):

Who can take a killing,
and sprinkle it with crap...
who inspires hatred with a quick nod of his cap...
the evil man!

Seriously, what is Phelps' motivation these days? I know, I know, he's a crazy-ass attention starved amoral bastard who will do anything to get a hug from mommy, but let's face it: you pull enough crap like this, without some kind of justification that somebody else can get on board with, and you're going to be taking your coffee with two sugars and a lethal dose of cyanide. I'm surprised his kids haven't already murdered him six or seven times over. To say nothing of God, whose name this bastard is smearing 24-7.

And he really is a powerful argument for atheism. I mean, what kind of God would just quietly accept blame for every massive tragedy that Phelps hears about? It seems like a kind and loving God, with access to a Hell of neverending horrors, would have taken this guy out about a hundred years ago.

I need a bumper sticker that says "Phuck Felps."