1. Whaling
2. The Canadian Seal Slaughter
3. Ringling Bros. Circus
4. SeaWorld
5. Brookstone's Exploitation of Frogs
I'll get a tattoo for each, and have them marked off after each victory. Crazy? Damn right. As the wise Martin Lawrence said in Bad Boys II, shit just got real.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Sometimes We Should Listen
Note: This isn't all going to make sense. They're ... thoughts, and ... it's late.
Liberation is a constant theme in my life.
The most obvious example being my work for animal liberation; we hard-line activists aren't just dietary vegans, but abolitionists fighting for the freedom of all God's creatures great and small. More on that later.
Several people in my life know what's better for me than I do. And though I'm a difficult person to confront, whether it's a sudden lull in the rhythm of the conversation or a palpably tense sigh, those that love me the most give themselves away too easily. The trigger for this was the simple mention of a name. This particular name was associated with a great deal of heartache, and my lovely friends, seeing my vulnerability, instinctively grew fiercely protective ... claws out, guns drawn.
And ... rightly so.
And ... it didn't matter. I hurt myself today to see if I still feel ...
I've avoided Biblical references lately, given my own conflicted thoughts on what the scribes intended and what's actually in that New Kings James Version, and I'll get to my point now.
And a voice was heard in Ramah, Rachel weeping in the wilderness, refusing to be comforted, because her children were no more.
I love this passage because I can relate to it. I haven't lost any children, much less fathered any, but I've dealt with pain so profound that I didn't want to feel better. The worst thing you can say to a person in state like that is "Everything's gonna be OK."
Because that's just not true.
And I'm sorry, but I'm tired now, and a good sleep is my only comfort
The other part of that is the attachment to grief. Somehow we're comfortable with the discomfort. The idyllic arouses suspicion; the desert lets us hope. And it's not just grief, but all sorts of things we know are bad for us, but yet they provide an illusion of normalcy and routine ... it's as if a parasite thrives on our unhappiness and so tricks us into destructive patterns and we named the parasite Fluffy.
That's when we need our friends to rescue us. To sigh aloud with disdain when we mention Fluffy, and to stick with us until we see the light.
I should have listened to my friends all along. Maggie, David, Jess, Nicole, Jeanne ... because having finally taken their advice, I feel ... liberated. And this wasn't just a deleted number and a Remove From Friends. This was an intentional, calculated purge, freeing up my heart and mind of the baggage that's been weighing on them for years now.
Jeanne, writing in her most recent note about going vegetarian, wrote I can't go back.
Neither can I. It's better out here, free from what I thought I loved most. I understand that now.
Carnivores don't understand that once your body has rid itself of meat (also known as the bloody, chemical-laden flesh of dead, tortured animals, to put it mildly) for a certain amount of time and then given a chance to recover, the thought of consuming it becomes revolting. But even if it didn't, living clean, healthy, environmentally conscience (the meat industry contributes to the destruction of the earth more than all other industries combined), compassionate and cruelty-free is such a joyful, satisfying way of life ... and the more you embrace the culture, the happier you are to be a part of it.
The whole world looks different. More beautiful and more horrific all at once, but the freedom tastes so much better than the shit they'd been selling you.
This is dedicated to Melissa and Jeanne. The veil is removed, and you'll find that this is a strange, often uncomfortable new world. There will be adversaries at every step, along with challenges and inconveniences. Just be thankful you've got Gardein. What you don't yet realize is how important this choice is, and how much of an impact you're making. Do no let anyone tell you any different, and if they insist, you can always call me in for backup. And on a personal note, you leave me encouraged and inspired. You give me hope.
And hope is delicious. Organic, too!
Liberation is a constant theme in my life.
The most obvious example being my work for animal liberation; we hard-line activists aren't just dietary vegans, but abolitionists fighting for the freedom of all God's creatures great and small. More on that later.
Several people in my life know what's better for me than I do. And though I'm a difficult person to confront, whether it's a sudden lull in the rhythm of the conversation or a palpably tense sigh, those that love me the most give themselves away too easily. The trigger for this was the simple mention of a name. This particular name was associated with a great deal of heartache, and my lovely friends, seeing my vulnerability, instinctively grew fiercely protective ... claws out, guns drawn.
And ... rightly so.
And ... it didn't matter. I hurt myself today to see if I still feel ...
I've avoided Biblical references lately, given my own conflicted thoughts on what the scribes intended and what's actually in that New Kings James Version, and I'll get to my point now.
And a voice was heard in Ramah, Rachel weeping in the wilderness, refusing to be comforted, because her children were no more.
I love this passage because I can relate to it. I haven't lost any children, much less fathered any, but I've dealt with pain so profound that I didn't want to feel better. The worst thing you can say to a person in state like that is "Everything's gonna be OK."
Because that's just not true.
And I'm sorry, but I'm tired now, and a good sleep is my only comfort
The other part of that is the attachment to grief. Somehow we're comfortable with the discomfort. The idyllic arouses suspicion; the desert lets us hope. And it's not just grief, but all sorts of things we know are bad for us, but yet they provide an illusion of normalcy and routine ... it's as if a parasite thrives on our unhappiness and so tricks us into destructive patterns and we named the parasite Fluffy.
That's when we need our friends to rescue us. To sigh aloud with disdain when we mention Fluffy, and to stick with us until we see the light.
I should have listened to my friends all along. Maggie, David, Jess, Nicole, Jeanne ... because having finally taken their advice, I feel ... liberated. And this wasn't just a deleted number and a Remove From Friends. This was an intentional, calculated purge, freeing up my heart and mind of the baggage that's been weighing on them for years now.
Jeanne, writing in her most recent note about going vegetarian, wrote I can't go back.
Neither can I. It's better out here, free from what I thought I loved most. I understand that now.
Carnivores don't understand that once your body has rid itself of meat (also known as the bloody, chemical-laden flesh of dead, tortured animals, to put it mildly) for a certain amount of time and then given a chance to recover, the thought of consuming it becomes revolting. But even if it didn't, living clean, healthy, environmentally conscience (the meat industry contributes to the destruction of the earth more than all other industries combined), compassionate and cruelty-free is such a joyful, satisfying way of life ... and the more you embrace the culture, the happier you are to be a part of it.
The whole world looks different. More beautiful and more horrific all at once, but the freedom tastes so much better than the shit they'd been selling you.
This is dedicated to Melissa and Jeanne. The veil is removed, and you'll find that this is a strange, often uncomfortable new world. There will be adversaries at every step, along with challenges and inconveniences. Just be thankful you've got Gardein. What you don't yet realize is how important this choice is, and how much of an impact you're making. Do no let anyone tell you any different, and if they insist, you can always call me in for backup. And on a personal note, you leave me encouraged and inspired. You give me hope.
And hope is delicious. Organic, too!
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Identify Poison, Administer Anti-Venom
Where do I start?
I don't write as much, I know. It's because I don't have a laptop. But soon, my dear little loves. Soon.
Let's get some things out of the way.
I'm fired up about this SeaWorld thing. Keeping orcas (and any other animal, really) in captivity the way they do is immoral and there is no justification for it. I was a diver there, I've been behind the scenes, and I know what really goes on, so let's not debate this, OK? Yes, this where you realize that if anyone transcends the animal rights vs. SeaWorld gap, it's me.
Moving on.
I'm steadily removing toxins from my life. From a dietary perspective, I've never understood how folks can learn about what this chemical or that preservative does to one's body yet lack the discipline and self-respect to abstain from that which is harmful. Soda is a perfect example. Now, I love Coca-Cola. LOVE it. But when I learned that soda, without the phosphoric acid, would be so sweet that you would vomit, and that without the corn syrup, it would be so acidic that it would burn, well...
Fuck Coke.
I just don't want to drink sugar & acid. Pious Christians point to my tattoos with an especially irritating reminder that "the body is a temple." Turns out I agree with them, but, like Christ (I know, I'm so Christ-like, right?), I'm more concerned with what's on the inside. And what I don't want is a year's supply of sugar mixed with an acid that can remove corrosion from my car battery in a convenient 12 oz. can.
Why would anyone? Brilliant marketing and deeply embedded sentimentality, I reckon. Oh, and ... it tastes good. And that's a pretty good logo. Oh, and the way it bites when it goes down ... Mmm... Get behind thee, Satan.
For the most part, this has been easy for me, even with things I have a special fondness for. Gelatin in Orbit? Gone. Fish bladder in Guinness? Gone (and that was my favorite beer). Hydrogenated oils in Peter Pan peanut butter? Hello, Skippy Natural. Pesticides on non-organic apples? I'll pay the extra dollar.
Meat and eggs and cheese were all easy for me to give up (the idea of consuming them has since become repulsive), but I've misplaced my soapbox for the evening, so relax.
What challenged me this week was when I attended a lecture by Dr. Gregor.
Dr. Gregor gave an incredibly entertaining and informative talk, and I encourage all 3 of you that read this to find his lecture on YouTube or even order a DVD from him.
Dr. Gregor came with some good news: Garlic is really, really good for you. I love garlic! But you've got to let it sit out for at least 20 minutes after you mince ... OK ... noted ... thanks, Doc. Fatty dressings are better than oil-based dressings and help you absorb the nutrients. Interesting!
Your cat helps keep cancer at bay. What? Really ... hmm ... ok, then! The aluminum in your deodorant will give you crazy disease. Ha! My deodorant is aluminum-free! One step ahead of you, doc.
Ugh. John McCain. What a whiny little... Sorry, they're recapping the health care summit on CNN. Oh my gosh, how good is this season of LOST? I'm on a horse.
But, Dr. Gregor came with bad news: Potatoes are toxic. Crap! Good thing I like sweet potatoes ...
Coconut milk is as fatty as lard. So much for SoDelicious ice cream sandwiches.
Chlorella and spirulina can kill you ("Plants are good, but not plants that bite back.") Chlorella? You mean like the blue-green algae in the Naked juices? CRAP! That's my favorite drink.
Oh, well. Time to get a juicer. They were expensive, anyway.
And just like that, I've given up potatoes (don't know if I could do that if it weren't for sweet potatoes, which are really good for you, it turns out), raw mushrooms (they can also kill you), coconut milk (but not coconut water, which is virtually human plasma), and ...sigh... NAKED's Green Machine juice.
I'm gonna make sure I get my B12, and I'll start incorporating more flax seed into my diet.
And just like that, I'm toxin-free.
Don't you wish you had my discipline?
But just when as I begin to mold my trophy out of solid gold, my flash-sideways self asks me a question:
"How easily you've purged these toxins from your body, why not the toxins in your thoughts and in your heart?"
Cripes. Introspection is such a downer.
But sideways-Parker has a valid point, and one I intend to address in my own life. I think it starts with identifying the poison. Once you've observed it carefully under a microscope and determined what it is, you can begin formulating, and finally administering, the anti-venom. The tricky part is committing to the extermination, because often, and certainly in my case, we are in love with the parasite that's made its home in our hearts. If you don't want to get wet, you've got to commit to the leap when crossing the river.
Why do I suddenly feel like I'm delivering a sermon?
For me, in the emotional landscape, it's more about who is toxic than what, and that's where I've got to begin. I keep my physical body free of toxins because I respect it (you would too if you had this body ... you were supposed to laugh), and clearly I've favored it over my heart and over my mind. I remarked to Nicole a while back that I was happy to see the discipline I exercise in my diet and at work begin to bleed into other areas of my life, like finances, and now it's time to let that discipline, that respect and careful guardianship, seep into the place it matters most.
A simple click on Remove from Friends is a good place to start.
But it's not just avoiding the detrimental. As important as it is for me to keep potassium sorbate out of my bloodstream, it's just as important to keep it stocked with complex carbohydrates and anti-oxidants; I have to learn to invite in what nurtures me. My tendency has been to avoid anything getting in for fear that it could, at any point, turn on me. This is a childhood toy, and it's time to put it away.
A simple Send Message is a good place to start. Nah. F that. Make a phone call, you lazy bastard.
I don't write as much, I know. It's because I don't have a laptop. But soon, my dear little loves. Soon.
Let's get some things out of the way.
I'm fired up about this SeaWorld thing. Keeping orcas (and any other animal, really) in captivity the way they do is immoral and there is no justification for it. I was a diver there, I've been behind the scenes, and I know what really goes on, so let's not debate this, OK? Yes, this where you realize that if anyone transcends the animal rights vs. SeaWorld gap, it's me.
Moving on.
I'm steadily removing toxins from my life. From a dietary perspective, I've never understood how folks can learn about what this chemical or that preservative does to one's body yet lack the discipline and self-respect to abstain from that which is harmful. Soda is a perfect example. Now, I love Coca-Cola. LOVE it. But when I learned that soda, without the phosphoric acid, would be so sweet that you would vomit, and that without the corn syrup, it would be so acidic that it would burn, well...
Fuck Coke.
I just don't want to drink sugar & acid. Pious Christians point to my tattoos with an especially irritating reminder that "the body is a temple." Turns out I agree with them, but, like Christ (I know, I'm so Christ-like, right?), I'm more concerned with what's on the inside. And what I don't want is a year's supply of sugar mixed with an acid that can remove corrosion from my car battery in a convenient 12 oz. can.
Why would anyone? Brilliant marketing and deeply embedded sentimentality, I reckon. Oh, and ... it tastes good. And that's a pretty good logo. Oh, and the way it bites when it goes down ... Mmm... Get behind thee, Satan.
For the most part, this has been easy for me, even with things I have a special fondness for. Gelatin in Orbit? Gone. Fish bladder in Guinness? Gone (and that was my favorite beer). Hydrogenated oils in Peter Pan peanut butter? Hello, Skippy Natural. Pesticides on non-organic apples? I'll pay the extra dollar.
Meat and eggs and cheese were all easy for me to give up (the idea of consuming them has since become repulsive), but I've misplaced my soapbox for the evening, so relax.
What challenged me this week was when I attended a lecture by Dr. Gregor.
Dr. Gregor gave an incredibly entertaining and informative talk, and I encourage all 3 of you that read this to find his lecture on YouTube or even order a DVD from him.
Dr. Gregor came with some good news: Garlic is really, really good for you. I love garlic! But you've got to let it sit out for at least 20 minutes after you mince ... OK ... noted ... thanks, Doc. Fatty dressings are better than oil-based dressings and help you absorb the nutrients. Interesting!
Your cat helps keep cancer at bay. What? Really ... hmm ... ok, then! The aluminum in your deodorant will give you crazy disease. Ha! My deodorant is aluminum-free! One step ahead of you, doc.
Ugh. John McCain. What a whiny little... Sorry, they're recapping the health care summit on CNN. Oh my gosh, how good is this season of LOST? I'm on a horse.
But, Dr. Gregor came with bad news: Potatoes are toxic. Crap! Good thing I like sweet potatoes ...
Coconut milk is as fatty as lard. So much for SoDelicious ice cream sandwiches.
Chlorella and spirulina can kill you ("Plants are good, but not plants that bite back.") Chlorella? You mean like the blue-green algae in the Naked juices? CRAP! That's my favorite drink.
Oh, well. Time to get a juicer. They were expensive, anyway.
And just like that, I've given up potatoes (don't know if I could do that if it weren't for sweet potatoes, which are really good for you, it turns out), raw mushrooms (they can also kill you), coconut milk (but not coconut water, which is virtually human plasma), and ...sigh... NAKED's Green Machine juice.
I'm gonna make sure I get my B12, and I'll start incorporating more flax seed into my diet.
And just like that, I'm toxin-free.
Don't you wish you had my discipline?
But just when as I begin to mold my trophy out of solid gold, my flash-sideways self asks me a question:
"How easily you've purged these toxins from your body, why not the toxins in your thoughts and in your heart?"
Cripes. Introspection is such a downer.
But sideways-Parker has a valid point, and one I intend to address in my own life. I think it starts with identifying the poison. Once you've observed it carefully under a microscope and determined what it is, you can begin formulating, and finally administering, the anti-venom. The tricky part is committing to the extermination, because often, and certainly in my case, we are in love with the parasite that's made its home in our hearts. If you don't want to get wet, you've got to commit to the leap when crossing the river.
Why do I suddenly feel like I'm delivering a sermon?
For me, in the emotional landscape, it's more about who is toxic than what, and that's where I've got to begin. I keep my physical body free of toxins because I respect it (you would too if you had this body ... you were supposed to laugh), and clearly I've favored it over my heart and over my mind. I remarked to Nicole a while back that I was happy to see the discipline I exercise in my diet and at work begin to bleed into other areas of my life, like finances, and now it's time to let that discipline, that respect and careful guardianship, seep into the place it matters most.
A simple click on Remove from Friends is a good place to start.
But it's not just avoiding the detrimental. As important as it is for me to keep potassium sorbate out of my bloodstream, it's just as important to keep it stocked with complex carbohydrates and anti-oxidants; I have to learn to invite in what nurtures me. My tendency has been to avoid anything getting in for fear that it could, at any point, turn on me. This is a childhood toy, and it's time to put it away.
A simple Send Message is a good place to start. Nah. F that. Make a phone call, you lazy bastard.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Let Us Bow
Your ministry, as exciting as its growing popularity may be, is no more or less important than any other outreach. Claiming the contrary is a disservice to spiritual movements everywhere. God will and can work equally with a penniless church of 5 as he can with your massively attended, well funded super church. It is not you that is doing God's work; it is God doing his work through you, and you'd be good to make a note of that when boasting your latest numbers.
If it is true that God is the creator of heaven and earth, he only chooses to work through us: he certainly doesn't have to.
Let's be clear: God does not love you because of who you are, what you do, how faithful you are, how often you attend church, and how well you love your brother. God loves you because he is a loving God. The Newsboys said it best: He only loves us 'cause of who he is.
This is not a criticism, or an attempt to rain on your parade. But realize that God is moving everywhere, all the time, not just when you and your pals get together. God will impact who he chooses to impact when he chooses to do so, and it will be he, and he alone that does so.
If it is true that God is the creator of heaven and earth, he only chooses to work through us: he certainly doesn't have to.
Let's be clear: God does not love you because of who you are, what you do, how faithful you are, how often you attend church, and how well you love your brother. God loves you because he is a loving God. The Newsboys said it best: He only loves us 'cause of who he is.
This is not a criticism, or an attempt to rain on your parade. But realize that God is moving everywhere, all the time, not just when you and your pals get together. God will impact who he chooses to impact when he chooses to do so, and it will be he, and he alone that does so.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
The Sound of Your Voice is Irritating Me, but I Still Love You
It's flooding in Norfolk. I had to leave my motorcycle at work and get a ride home, or surely my body would be laying in the middle of the street somewhere. Regularly I have intervals of such pondering: I could die today. My expansive imagination proceeds to play out various memorial service scenarios, none of which will resemble the actual thing should it happen any time soon. Where would they even have it? I've left my mark on communities in Portland, Orlando, NYC, and now Norfolk, while my family (mostly) lives in none of these places. Even if all of my various circles somehow managed to come together (Facebook funeral!), they still probably wouldn't be laughing like I'd want them to be. They probably wouldn't actually treat it like a rock concert and get Norma Jean to play... nor would anyone come dressed up as a llama. Some might insist my current life's work get referenced with a request that I be honored with meatless meals on the anniversary of my death. Who knows who may try to sweep that one under the rug...
They'll probably play some weepy slideshow with a song I would roll my eyes at, followed by a sermon about God's perfect timing. So here, officially (is there anything more official than one's blog), I insist: Do not do this.
No sermons. No service. No featured slideshows. No sappy songs.
Have a party.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
So I have some questions.
1. Who are you mad at right now and why haven't you spoken with them?
2. Who do you know that is needy right now, and why haven't you given to them?
3. What makes you so angry, and why haven't you done anything about it?
And of course, a veg shout-out:
4. Why do you think it's OK to eat a pig and not a dog?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
American Beauty is a stupid movie. So is Crash, and so is Closer. They're stupid because they tell you what to think and feel, lacking the confidence in their audience to let them decide. It's insulting.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This blog is ridiculous. And Firstfaith311 remains anonymous. I'm still hopeful that it was not a family member, or even a friend, but some random Churchian. Daily, I become more and more convinced that the church is more interested in itself than the message of Christ. I don't think most people realize how radical Jesus' message is. Things like forgiveness, generosity, humility, tending to the poor, giving more than we're asked to give, turning the other cheek (how many Churches voiced opposition to the war in Iraq?), are I think, foreign ideas to most church attenders.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Though I wouldn't support any church's campaign against gay marriage, I would respect one a little more were it to pursue divorce just as fervently. These campaigns are, after all, claiming to defend the sanctity of marriage.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
With the beauty of Pandora, and my long hours on the computer at work, I've been discovering a lot of new music lately. Some of my new favorite bands include Hammock, Mogwai, Mono, The Weepies, The Sounds, and Metrics.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I don't know if I can ever get married, though I hope to be convinced otherwise one day.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I empathize strongly with anyone suffering. It will be the death of me. Natural disasters, broken families, severed relationships... I want to take every hurting being by the shoulder (or paw) and trade my beating heart for their broken one. Especially touching for me is when these creatures can't speak for themselves, which explains my compassion for animals.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I probaby wouldn't tell you any of this in real life, but I'm enjoying this blog entry.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Your assignments:
Listen: Iron & Wine- Faded From the Winter
The Weepies- The World Spins Madly On
Hammock- Mono No Aware
See: The second trailer to the Jaquin Phoenix narrated Earthlings.
Visit: letsbefriends.blogspot.com
__________________________________________________________________
Monday, August 10, 2009
Things, They are a-Changin'.
Neon green rimmed sunglasses. A bright yellow motorcycle helmet with wind powered turbines attached to a series of LED lights. Wilting flowers, maybe lilies. A cell phone with a dying battery and a tired boy writing down what he sees. It's idyllic, he thinks.
I remember you. Everything is moving with my breathing now, and my body is begging me to go to sleep, but... I remember you. You're fuzzy in my mind, and your voice fading, but...
I need some more hearts to break. I need some teenage angst and a razor blade and a sad girl's initials to carve into my arm. I need some long hair and a rock star future. I need some young rebellion and a best friend to break bottles with. I need an arrow in my heart and a head full of bad ideas.
I need a gun writing things down on me that will never wash off.
I need a confrontation in the streets. I need a heart to heart with my father. I need a late dinner with my mother. I need a flood to come and threaten to sink this little house. I need God to show up and hurt me with His love. I need breakfast with an old friend. I need my cat in the attic.
I need back what I've lost...
I need 3rd grade to start over again. I need the 3rd of March deleted from my history. I need a cold wind to prompt me to put on my jacket. I need to regret the things I've done to you. I need to need you more... more or less. I need to know what it means to need.
I need to find you in the darkness. I need to find you like a father would his daughter. I need to hold you until you fall asleep. I need to match my breathing with yours...
...and rest.
I remember you. Everything is moving with my breathing now, and my body is begging me to go to sleep, but... I remember you. You're fuzzy in my mind, and your voice fading, but...
I need some more hearts to break. I need some teenage angst and a razor blade and a sad girl's initials to carve into my arm. I need some long hair and a rock star future. I need some young rebellion and a best friend to break bottles with. I need an arrow in my heart and a head full of bad ideas.
I need a gun writing things down on me that will never wash off.
I need a confrontation in the streets. I need a heart to heart with my father. I need a late dinner with my mother. I need a flood to come and threaten to sink this little house. I need God to show up and hurt me with His love. I need breakfast with an old friend. I need my cat in the attic.
I need back what I've lost...
I need 3rd grade to start over again. I need the 3rd of March deleted from my history. I need a cold wind to prompt me to put on my jacket. I need to regret the things I've done to you. I need to need you more... more or less. I need to know what it means to need.
I need to find you in the darkness. I need to find you like a father would his daughter. I need to hold you until you fall asleep. I need to match my breathing with yours...
...and rest.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
An Elusive Sandman/Seeing Red Again
I'm angry now.I had planned on writing a bit- again, the image of that little monkey haunted me from my sleep and I thought that composing some poetic piece about painful thoughts birthing creativity... I can't even finish this sentence.
Before I began my new post, I noticed that a comment had been added to one I had written just the night before. Glancing over the text, I saw that it was scripture, and assumed that some well intentioned soul had left me some encouragement, something to remind me that God is faithful when you feel alone and have lost hope in humanity. Maybe something praising me for surrendering my life to what I believe is His will... perhaps just some calming anecdotes about the purpose of suffering.
But, no. For all I know, you could be a family member. But seriously, what an asshole thing to do. Here I am, pouring my heart out for anyone to see, wrestling with faith and God and fighting off a growing hatred for human beings, and what do you do? You pull some scripture you got from the nearest vending machine and vomited some bullshit self-righteous counterpoint to what? To my dilemma in loving a species capable of inflicting so much suffering? To my worries about whether my faith will remain intact after a year of doing this kind of work (you do know I work for PETA, right?)?
You missed the point entirely, my friend. See, my post didn't say one thing about eating meat. And after all I've seen, I know what's wrong, and I'm not interested in some seminary school ethics debate. The theme of the post was clear: I'm scared. I'm scared of all the horrible things I'm going to see, and I don't have the faith to know that God will be with me in those dark, dark places. Are you getting this? Are you seeing now how that was a shitty, cheap thing to comment?
I hope so. Otherwise it's hopeless for you. You'll live your whole life steeped in your ignorance. And if you and I are close friends, family members maybe, then I apologize, but I hope this makes you think twice before you prematurely spit out scripture all over the place. It does nothing but incense the people you're trying to reach. If you're really interested in challenging their ideas, especially when it's on their turf, talk to them. Ask them questions. And more importantly, as a Christian, consider their heart primarily, not their ideas and opinions. It's Christians hitting people over the heads with their Bibles, yelling downtown of fire and brimstone and hell and damnation, that makes people despise us.
Talk about blood boiling... If you want to have a conversation, Faithfirst311, then let's talk. Let's argue, let's disagree, let's hug it out. If you want to piss me off, if you want to really enrage me, then throw another verse at me. The result? I'll just get louder (and probably swear more, too- sorry, Dad) and my commitment to the cause will become more resolute than ever. It's time to rethink your approach if you expect to be an effective communicator. Otherwise, you're just typical.
And who wants to be typical?
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