America’s endemic Jew hatred
Disgusting! Repulsion! Repugnant! Nauseating! Sickening! Appalling! Inexcusable! Anger! Rage!
These are a few of the words that float across the corners of my mind whenever I see or hear the virulent disease of Anti-Semitism-it’s foulness and unmitigated loathing arouses within me a deep sense of frenzied rage. A kind of rage that foster the aggressive and brutal aspects of my inner self. A propensity for violence that I have relinquished to the furthest corners of my inner-self and tried (my very best) to keep in my back pocket. But, when I come across these Jew haters it requires much personal strength to keep those ill-feelings in check where they belong.
My friends used to ask me all the time why I carry these feelings. I used to tell them that “if I couldn’t stand for something, then there was nothing worth standing for” I’m not sure if I made that up or heard it somewhere, but it is a building block of my life thus far.
I have always stood against cruelty. As a young third grade Army brat, there were many times that I was punished by the school principal and my parents because I “stuck up” for the little guy that was being bullied by the older kids. Throughout most of grade school it was an endless chain of incidents and events of battling the bullies, beating the crap out of them, and being called a Hero by the little guys. You know the one that I’m talking about. The little skinny kid with glasses that’s always being beat up by the jocks, or the little guy that was afraid to get involved in a fight –because his mother forbid it and his father didn’t teach him how to fight. Those were the kids that I protected in grade school. The same thing happened in High school, and I was quickly labeled as a ‘trouble maker”-spending a considerable amount of time in the principal’s office getting paddled, or tossed out of school for a week.
As a young man I spent most of my life running amok on the streets. I hung out with bikers, street gangs, and petty thugs. For some reason I was drawn to the violence and enjoyed living on the edge. I loved to fight, and became quiet good at it. Judo, Jujitsu, Karate, and later on-Systema and other martial arts became a daily ritual, and a means to propagate this vituperative tendency.
The US Army sharpened my awareness of how violent a person can be. I took it as a personal challenge and enrolled in every combat course that I could weasel into. Infantry school, Airborne school, Ranger school, Recon school, and dozens of other training courses helped to quiet the raging beast within me. But the fighting never stopped, nor did the predisposition to defend the helpless. I still don’t know where that comes from, but I have accepted it as a part of who I am, and into the man that I have grown into since those grade school days.
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