“If you don’t hate you don’t care,
and if you don’t care you might as well be dead.”
Among the less hateful aspects of our weakling society is the cult of forgiveness. Somehow in the past half-century the New Testament turned from rod of divine retribution into milquetoast appeasement. Did Christ forgive defilers in the temple? Not until he gave them a sound thrashing.
Still, every day we hear families of murder victims say they will not allow hate to dictate them. They empathize with the upbringing, unfairness, or institutional “discrimination” of the poor fellow who ruined their lives. Usually, this happens long before trial and even if an indoctrinated jury abnegates its duty and acquits ~ forgiveness without penance? What the hell kind of religion is that anyway?
For most of my life I have been intimately involved in politics. Many colleagues have been extremely liberal even as my own views have been wildly characterized as everything from arch-socialist to proto-fascist. We hate one another’s views, yet it has not deterred us from many meals, trips, and happily argumentative hours together. Actually, I find it often strengthens my resolve.
And whenever I find my capriciously self-indulgent nature has led to an inflated waistline, it isn’t love of some ideal that motivates my long, sorry march to the treadmill. Rather it is the scornful face and cutting remarks of every female young or old who has ever rebuked or ridiculed me. I can remember almost all of them by name and they are each unknowingly responsible for maintaining my athletic frame. Even after all these years I hate them one and all, and I love them for keeping me fit.
Moreover, indignation keeps you young.
There is nothing in the annals of medicine so beneficial for rejuvenating your sanguine sludge than to get that blood boiling regularly. Once, a friend asked how I am able to think of writing topics and I told him,
“Well, it almost always begins with something which makes me very angry.”