Amalekites Reject Compassion as Weakness

Amalekites reject compassion as weakness, mercy a vice, murder the weak and infirm for being afraid when able. Their justice is impunity from justice. Moreover, they embrace any suffering they can cause as a Virtue of Antipathy for compassion. These lower than beasts are the reason for the law against eating flesh from a living animal.

Amalekites train their children to a taste for causing suffering as a taste for pork, from their mother’s milk.  A child raised to this way of being, and has no Soul within them to reject, are fixed in this way by the age of seven. This is what I mean by born soul. Some born into that environment have a Soul within with a spark to reject, and most, following the pheromonal trails of their ancestors, accept this as their good, as a positive trait to their culture — elevated to a religious value. Thuggees. old-South. There’s no soul within that’s capable of compassion for any suffering other than their own. They exist as individuals, families, clans, tribes, and nations. Their souls are lower than that of beasts, because their choice, having heard distant rumors of good and evil, is to resist and oppose the Good.

Buddy’s Buffoon

Refusing to call him by their name, Buddy is the name I call my Amalekites next door’s dog. Buddy’s master, a narcissist with political ambitions, whose doctors were treating as narcoleptic had obvious sleep apnea, died one night not long after I tried to warn him, doing the right thing regardless of his being arrogant while insipid. Naturally, with No Ears to Hear, he couldn’t listen.

He’d pulled Buddy’s teeth crooked abusing him before he died, but at least Buddy was getting some attention. Buddy’s predecessor before I came, a white German Shepherd that I’d offered to buy for Momma during a visit from Houston because he was virtually living with Momma was ‘put down’ for repeatedly running away. The Amalekite version of raising and mentoring is to inflict suffering upon their charges as an instruction in the proper values of education and comportment. Cruelty as keeping their venerated traditions alive.

Into the Arms of a Stranger

Buddy was without shelter and given food and water in large pans only once a week. Buddy started escaping to my yard where there was always food and fresh water for my dog, into the Arms of a Stranger. Buddy’d escape to me every day, as that predecessor before I came to town.

into_the_arms_of_strangersBuddy wolfed down as much as he could because it would shortly be inedible and polluted for him to wait a week to be fed and watered again. While living with me for a year, going home during the day, disinterested in my dog, he’d put down a 55lb bag of food in two days until he finally realized it would always be there, fresh. At first, I tried to be neighborly, offered to help the widow by mentoring one or the other of her two sons in doing right by Buddy, the root of his insisting on leaving. I offered my dog’s house because my dog used a doggie door. No.

In the Footsteps of Predecessors

Footsteps-j0s2m21.jpgBefore he wasted from being tied to the tree when not in a cage, not crate, Buddy was healthy and strong enough to pull the chain links of my fence apart.  A section he found to pull apart had been apparently repaired after being pulled apart by his predecessor years before that I hadn’t realized until fixing it.

Then, when I fixed it with barbed wire to keep my dog from getting out, he’d move to another area. He could jump their fence, the exercise was getting into mine.

I offered to take Buddy in and they could have visitation whenever they wanted. After they started trying to tie him to a tree, he’d chew through the ropes and jump over a lower section of my fence where the ground had settled.

Steadfastly Refused

Then, the widow told me my fence that was in its third repair that Buddy kept tearing up in a new un-barbed section was hers. Our next door neighbor the Browns attached to our fence when I was growing up. She told me my dog was tearing the fence apart, when I’d stood there from a distance and watched Buddy do it. Then, she accused me of coming into her yard and taking Buddy. I lost her number and expunged it from my mind.  A year later, they reclaimed him to tie him to a tree after a solid year of living at my house. The sons steadfastly refused any responsibility.

Standing in the Rain and Snow

Buddy was chewing through the ropes, so they bought an electronic choker because he’d bark all night when cold wet and hungry, but she still wouldn’t allow him a dog house. With Buddy running through the electric choker, they made a 3 x 4 cage barely big enough for him to stand up in the yard from fencing tall enough that he couldn’t jump out. Still no dog house. Standing in the rain and snow. He’d bark all night cold and wet in the rain – I called the police on one such occasion of barking outside my window all night, who told me it wasn’t a problem.

So I started complaining to SPCA Humane Society and Animal Control that at least responded that the widow is politically connected when I kept pressing. I wrote a letter to Lab Rescue. The other neighbor whose funeral I went to though I won’t go into a church told me I should have my spayed dog ‘put down’ because she was attracting neutered Buddy.

That same neighbor, the wise matriarch of the neighborhood, didn’t have a fence and had a history of a dog tied to a cement block that Dada built a dog house for, that she refused because she didn’t like the way it looked outside her house.

Compassion Is Not In Them

They claimed I wanted Buddy, but should get my own. I was causing the problem by refusing to kill my dog. Then, they were from the country where dogs made their own shelter, as if they didn’t know the dog was tied to a tree with nothing but the sky overhead. And making his own shelter by escaping. Caring wasn’t in them.

Somebody left a stray dog on my porch, as if I needed another dog. I took Steve in, and he became my second dog. Buddy would escape and I’d take him back to them, to be insulted as if I was trying to steal him with a condescending and snotty ‘that’s ours.’

No Longer In the Pack

They set Buddy loose to fend for himself knowing he’d come to my house when they fled the ice storm of 2007. Buddy attacked Steve and I got bit in the process of separating them. Buddy hadn’t been living at my house for over a year, was no longer in the pack, blamed Steve who was a puppy the last time Buddy was there for his misery, the alpha change before he could no longer come. Steve had usurped his place.

I loved Buddy more than my own, so I called the police, motivated that it would be better for Buddy to be placed or euthanized than stand out in the rain with no shelter for another seven years. The policeman made threatening postures as he told me animal neglect isn’t a crime in the desert wilderness. Not the illiterate ignoramus he assumed, I pressed and they took Buddy away.

Unfamiliar with this type of situation, I changed my mind when I found out that Buddy couldn’t be placed from the shelter because of the circumstances, and told the ‘wise’ neighbor’s grand niece that I didn’t want Buddy killed, but they’d need to get him shelter or turn him over to Lab Rescue, or I’d sue them for the bite.

Under Threat

My sanctified next door neighbor took over seven years to finally acquiesce to giving Buddy a dog house, and then only under threat of lawsuit. Her family’s so big they hire a Port-a-potty when they have a bigger get-together than the routine lining the street up and down with new cars. Not one among them had the honor to stand up for a possession of dominion to have a dog house to go into out of the rain, even for free. Their children played by beating the ‘bad dog that runs away’ outside my window.

With all my ‘making trouble’ in the neighborhood, the issue was made well known to them all, and they all chose from their role of the soul as an example of what not to be. Certain of their worth by honoring the widow’s inhumane honor of her dead buffoon’s still living to suffer dog. Not one among them has compassion or mercy, as Buddy lives with No Love but a dog house now. I love him from afar, love him here by telling his story.

Loathing of Amalekites

I start with Buddy’s story because of strong feelings. I was literally sickened as Nietzsche by Buddy’s suffering, I know loathing of Amalekites. They asked my nephew to help them with their basketball skills. I tried to explain their inhumanity without histrionics, couldn’t forbid though our relationship suffered with the idea. I understand becoming incensed with those entertaining the possibility that Amalekites are human.

Buddy’s ongoing inhumane treatment excites me still, blood boiling gut wrenching for insomnia if I allow myself to think about it though I send him love from my soul every day as I drive by. Their infamy is immortal in my heart and here as not one among their hoard would stand up for being Humane. They teach their children to be inhumane as a religious Virtue with a taste for pork.

That Whole Family Is Trash

As Momma presciently confided years before with a wave of a hand; That whole family is trash. Associating with Amalekites as if they’re Human has a danger of being seduced by Filial relation that they’ve any capacity for humanity. That’s my existential interpretation of the commandment to kill them all, not to kill them physically today, but to kill the idea in our hearts that they’re Human, deserving of compassion or mercy. Amalekites hate HaShem, are His enemies first, and ours because they’re His. Beyond erasing their names, I’m immune to the idea that they’re Human.

A talking head said we win as Islamophobia replaces anti-Semitism. With the same depth of feeling I had about my nephew considering any association with those Amalekites, I was brought low by another association with Amalekites with a Proclivity for Xenophobia in pursuit of shelter from other Amalekites.

Don’t Say Nuthin’ Bad ’bout Debra, She’s Sanctified.

After ten years of being without love, locked in a cage being fed by impersonal caregivers, begrudgingly given shelter after seven solid years of resistance, Buddy was released to return to me, to die. By that time, I already had too many dogs and on the last occasion that Buddy escaped, I handed him back over to them. The elder son of the buffoon, the younger a feckless troll determined to unabashedly follow in his heartless mother’s tracks, thanked me for turning him over without any resistance. From that time, I saw that recrimination in Buddy’s eyes, that I had done this to him. That while they have no soul of humanity within them, I had loved him and he me,and he couldn’t understand and fathom my betrayal. Buddy, bewildered emaciated and lame, just stood there and looked at me. One of my dogs jumped my fence to comfort him in compassion, and went away with him, both lost to never return.

This is the intensity of six million souls with which I loathe Amalekites, to the fourth generation and beyond. As irrevocable as time and motion, as death. Her two sons, who would never have compassion and their children’s children will be the same, by the age of seven — unless there is a soul of loving kindness within them to bring them out of that Egypt. Which as Amalekites I wouldn’t expect, but can’t deny.

Amalekites: To the Fourth Generation and Beyond

Loving kindness is at the root of the Amalekite ethos. To reject that as insistently as I would be sickened by going into a church. They’re positively allergic to the idea. Even among themselves, it’s always about What’s in it for me. They use people as policy, never considering the possibility that there is any good in doing anything out of kindness. They may have big families, with the port-a-potty out front there are so many, but they’re coarse and uncultured creatures that live for war by whatever means. Their kindness is an opportunity to serve them, to do something for them. Beyond quid pro quo, their goal is to ‘win’ any interaction, even within.

So that when it comes to dealing with other people, or their pretenses of religion, their contributions are with the explicit expectation that by this ‘kindness’ that they are done by sending Buddy to die here, after ten years of torture, they’ve wafered and wined the situation and they sanctity in their deity’s eyes is assured. In this sense, and that they train their children to this as Virtue is the rationale for bashing their infants heads against a wall.

Amalekites, as that clan, are a way of being from Black Holes as-souls, Pied Pipers teaching and spreading hate, Antipathy as Virtue. Their children are sociopaths from their mother’s milk to the fourth generation, are as useless to His World to Come as a black-soul widow of a buffoon standing in her freedom of dominion to deny shelter is to Buddy.

However, as we are aware that these lower than animal souls have spread themselves as waters on the world. And that there are some, an Us with a spark of loving kindness within Them, and that the murder of one innocent is as the murder of worlds. We commit and affirm, as the hand of collective punishment in many examples from The Divine Torah as having been abandoned as Justice, the innocent with the guilty is not His Justice of just laws to conviction. Being Amalekites will not be our way.

Never Forget to Not Become Them

So what we do about them is recognize them we see them, and Never Forget what they will do if able. Never Forget what they do and what they’ve done, that Amalekites have no compassion for man or beast.

Associating with Amalekites whose only values are blood in The Coliseum as their taste for pork with a proclivity for xenophobia to justify dominion by collectivizing all Muslims as murderous hearts is as troubling as Buddy’s sad lot. Arabs that some collectivize as Amalekites are from Abraham, as are we, far more so kin than low-born old-South scum of the earth. As the rumors of good and evil progress to an expectation of world consciousness and time grows near, no one can deny that there’s an Us who have within them a capacity for loving kindness that doesn’t mean they are willing to be our slaves.

That that whole family is trash doesn’t mean that everybody that looks like them is trash as well. People who choose to designate themselves as hateful in words and deeds have made their choice clearly. There isn’t a person who confesses to being a Republican today that hasn’t swilled from the cup of ‘niggerniggernigger‘ under the Big Tent of Hate, whether Confederate Negro or not. Not one can deny a choice of faith in power money might, whether opportunistic buffoon or not, in conscious rejection of compassion for any suffering other than their own. They can’t approach Noahide as they aspire to torture people when they graduate from helpless animals, Cheer the prospect of people dying from lack of healthcare and boo the golden rule.

Only now do a few start peeking out of the closet of Antipathy as Virtue under massive condemnation and recognition of what they are, most in pure self interest, looking toward more opportunities to prey in the future from the tall grass of feigned empathy and humanity.

Our Amalekite Trojans of Comity threaten us as deeply as any man-made weapon because our primary charge is to have Perfect Faith in HaShem’s power to defeat His enemies. Becoming Amalekites is a victory for their raising and mentoring the devolution of the world of compassion since the godfather of antipathy, opened the War within the States in homage to Murder in Neshoba County for the soul of America, and the world by extension. Their Antipathy as Virtue is to inflict suffering upon the world as an instruction in the proper values of education and comportment. Cruelly keeping their venerated traditions alive of resisting The Divine Torah through space and time from their low-born souls in inhumanity. That we Never Forget.

As I object to Buddy’s inhumane treatment, I object to trusting His enemies, with their strange worships of Ba’al. I object to becoming guilty by associating with those who would eat the flesh off of a living animal if able, fresh and juicy, in loving kindness of themselves.

Making common cause with Amalekites is looking to Hyenas that eat the weak and slow at the back to become pillars of salt. The fundamental of shelter is protection, from wind rain sun cold, from Amalekites.

I pray here for His protection of Israel from Amalekites, both within our tent of meeting and without. That we Never Forget not to become them, and resist them with all our might of Free Will, by Returning within to unity in the traditions that we affirmed at Sinai. And save the afflicted Us within Them who will have the Perfect Faith we demonstrated to leave that Egypt.

Battle of Joshua with Amalekites – Nicolas Poussin