I hate hate speech.

And I'm protected in my right to say it.  I'm also protected should I choose to spend a somber afternoon protesting a soldier's funeral with signs that read, "Thank God for Dead Soldiers," "God Hates You," "Not Blessed Just Cursed," "Fag Troops," "You're Going to Hell," and "Thank God for 9/11."  I can hold the signs wherever I want, in fact, barring some municipal or state restriction on the proximity of protesters in certain areas or during certain events.  Yay!  This is great.  I'm going to finish this post and paint some pep rally posters telling the world to fuck off.  I'll send it to friends in the States since I'm not sure of my footing down here.

In a completely unsurprising decision, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in Snyder v. Phelps that the Westboro Baptist Church (not actually a Baptist church but an unaffiliated congregation composed mostly of Phelps large and legally astute extended family) may display its provocative signs on public land because they "reflect the fact that the church finds much to condemn in modern society."  Yes, well.  Wouldn't it be great if they could be a bit more articulate in their woeful expression?

And once again, we get to consider the First Amendment in its naked, occasionally warty, often with a seething rash, definitely unshaved glory.  Following the shooting in Congresswoman Giffords in Tuscon, I wrote on this blog about that robust freedom of expression and the civic responsibility that we all should be proud to model in our utilization of it.  That's right, I said it: responsibility.  We actually have a responsibility toward people we don't even know.  We don't pull our pants down in front of them and we don't curse at them.  In other words, we shouldn't act like slobbering drunk douchebags when we express our political, religious or otherwise ideological passions.  It's a good responsibility, I promise.  It comes back around to your benefit, like karma and dinner party invitations.

I'm enough of a people-lover to hope that the Court's ruling in this case will challenge even the most headstrong free speech proponents among us, and I count myself in that group, to stop for a moment to consider the speech that we get to make and the effect it will have on those to whom we make it. I'm enough of a misanthrope to think that whatever thought is given to the issue will probably disappear in the vacuum of political, financial, emotional, existential strife that is so much nicer to selfishly hold.  Have you noticed how befriending a neighbor is so suspect these days?  Senseless acts like that befuddle the strife.  Anyhoo.

If you can bother to neglect your personal strife for a moment, the Westboro decision ought to challenge you to reconcile your notions of decency with the clearly offensive, potentially defamatory, and plausibly assaultive language the Church shouts from its bright placards.  And as you confront that challenge, be mindful of the minefield obstructing your path.  Wherever you step, our modern chatter threatens bone-crunching abuse, embarrassing accusations against whatever we believe, and hateful target practice should we disagree.  Oh, and when those mines explode, we hear the big boom over and over in the echo chamber of our media until we've normalized the trauma.

I confess: I'm heartened by Alito's lone dissent (oh my, really?) and his comment that "our profound national commitment to free and open debate is not a license for the vicious verbal assault that occurred in this case."  Sometimes, those dissents, even by justices that I don't want to like, are worthwhile for the little snack of consideration they provide.  I don't agree that the First Amendment should be further abridged, but I'm grateful that Alito scowled on the record.  Oh oh, you see how I did that?  I just gave a compliment to a man with whom I disagree on a ton of issues.

As anyone who's ever loved another will know, communication can be painful. In society, as in relationships, we owe it to ourselves to consider our words before we speak, to balance their heft against the consequence of their fall, to soften the edges so we can be heard and enjoy the pleasure of a shared bed or city square.  Otherwise, we become this:

And really, I think we can all agree, the protesters and elected officials in that video are no better than a bunch of slobbering douchebags with way too many flags to wave.