I’m not typically a hateful person. In fact, those who know me would attest that I’m quite the opposite. I’m of the mind that there are better things to do than spend a life-time being consumed and twisted with hate, and I pity those who are.
Nonetheless, there are people I do actually hate: I hate murderous scumbags.
I hate those who needlessly cut short the lives of innocent people. In particular, I hate with a passion the Islamic terrorists who blow up planes, blow up buildings, blow up themselves with the intention of sending others closer to ‘God’ with them, or open fire on mingling crowds of people whose only guilty act is that they are going about their daily lives in a free country.
We all hate them, so I’m not unique there.
But it’s not just the Islamic terrorists I hate. I also hate those deranged low-life bastards in the gun-loving USA who indiscriminately blast away the lives of their innocent countrymen. It’s impossible not to hate a person who aims an assault rifle at young kids in a school ground and excitedly mows them down with enough fire power that not only kills them, but mutilates them beyond recognition.
It only happens in America. And all too often. We gaze at the country in disbelief.
Yet I like Americans. I’ve visited their country a number of times and I have left, each time, impressed with their warmth and hospitality. And back home whenever I’ve mentioned that I like Americans I’ve yet to be challenged with such bewildering comments as: “How can you like Americans when they kill each other?” “How can you like Americans when they kill animals?” “How can you like Americans when you look at how they treat other countries?”
My expressed like of the American people doesn’t seem to faze anyone. Sure, there’s a lot about America I don’t like. I don’t like their gun laws nor see the sense in keeping them. I don’t like people shooting animals for sport, which a lot of them seem to do. I don’t like their policies on health or employment, or a raft of their foreign policies.
But it doesn’t stop me from liking Americans. They don’t all kill people. They don’t all kill animals. How can I blame (and hate) all Americans because of the actions of a small minority?
No one seems to care one way or another if I like Americans or not.
It’s pity the same logic doesn’t always apply.
Dare mention that we shouldn’t be blaming all Muslims for the Islamic terrorist attacks in Paris and you will unleash a barrage of incomprehensible hate that can best be described as pure insanity.
This was evident by the extreme level of unrestrained hate manifested in response to Victoria Rollison’s article, A Letter to Reclaim Australia as well as on other social media sites.
Anyone ‘daring’ to mention the obvious – that it was ludicrous to hold all Muslims responsible, or dislike Muslims because of – the Islamic terrorist attacks was, as evidenced, a hated person and one who ‘clearly’ supported:
- Child brides
- Wife beating
- Female genital mutilation
- Sex trafficking
- Forced segregation
- The fostering of terrorism
- The subjugation of women
. . . and on it went.
How utterly ridiculous and outrageous. What a load of puerile, unfounded rubbish! Of course we (or I) don’t approve of those things.
The probability is, the pitiful hypocrites who make these insane allegations have far less chance of being killed by a Muslim than an American person has of being gunned down by a fellow countryman.
It appears there are indeed a large number of people consumed and twisted with hate, and as I stated earlier, I pity those who are. They have more hate than I can comprehend.