In no particular order:
- The proportion of the human race that makes this guy sick seems pretty large (depending on how he defines some of his terms). I imagine he has constant stomach cramps and/or diarrhea. Perhaps some chronic cold symptoms.
- I’m fairly impressed that he spelled “effeminate” correctly.
- I once knew a Jew from that synagogue. She said it wasn’t as exciting as it sounds. Satan didn’t even show up half the time, and hardly ever gave the Torah readings.
- Anyone who is, literally, the nut of a sport (either the left or the right nut) has probably come to expect this kind of treatment, so their inclusion on this sign seems unnecessary.
- Is it OK if they’re not on bikes?
- Ankle biters? Am I missing something? He hates children? Seriously. I don’t get this one, unless there are more people in the world with my particular fetish than I thought.
- But– but– rebellious women are the hottest ones!
- Computer freaks? Oh, right, I remember now: “Lo, he who hath the stench of days in his basement, and the pallour of darkness about his countenance, and a working knowledge of programming language, or more than two markup languages, or more than ‘moderate’ user expertise in two operating systems, shall be curséd…”
- Dig that kid’s gleeful expression. Heh. Nothing pokes holes in your crusade quite like a slacker punk using your righteous wrath for a scrapbook entry.
- Whew. Good thing he put “racists” up there, or he might have come off as intolerant.
I have a fantasy about asking this guy, with great sincerity, “Why the Pentecostals? Mm hmm. Yes, I see. And the Mormons? Oh, interesting. Of course. Those make sense, I suppose, but why the child molesting homosexuals?”
There was a guy back at Ohio State who’d set up shop on campus with similar tactics, every Spring. I think he was called “Brother Jed” or something equally apocalyptic. He would delight the less-religiously-threatened students by hollering (often with a megaphone or PA system) epithets and curses at individuals, or at the student body in general. We sometimes liked to wait around for him to find scantily-clad young women (it never took long), because he would approach them and yell, “WHOOOOOOORE!” It was sort of his trademark thing.
This was no doubt traumatic for some of the girls, but we were pretty sure others would bait him for entertainment purposes. I recall considering asking him questions in my best super-gay-stereotype voice, but I never did. Oh well.

