Animal and Child Abuse · Child Abuse · Dealing with Bullies · Dealing with problem people · Human behavior · Morality · Psychology · Sadism · Uncategorized

The “Kill Yourself” Squad (a.k.a. KYS Trolls Unleashed)

There are certain people in life who’ve taken it upon themselves, as their overriding goal in life, to do everything in their power to cause people they perceive as superior to themselves (as in jealousy) to suffer extreme depression, so much so as to commit suicide. “Think you’re better than me, eh? Well, I’ll kill you by your own hand (or at least drive you to debilitating mental illness)…then see who’s better.”

Jealousy is a particularly nasty root of evil.

These “suicide makers” obsess over targeted “goody two-shoes” types to figure out just how deep they must go to cause profound grief in someone with a conscience. They find these endeavors and successes a whole lot of fun, a way to feel “high.” They probably tingle all over when they feel they’ve hit pay dirt, such as seeing tears well up in someone’s eyes. A target’s hysterical sobbing may even elicit sexual arousal, even climax. They probably moan in ecstasy and do a happy dance for quite some time when one of their targets actually commits suicide.

These people are sadists of the mind and emotions.

They would murder those they envy if not for the potential of going to prison or being killed by the state. They’re too smart for that.

A target’s death by suicide isn’t their primary goal, it’s just the ultimate in satisfaction. The rest of it in its entirety is a close second in gratification and with the extra benefit of being done over and over and over, against new and old targets. There’s the thrill of someone new, yet re-traumatizing an old target is thrilling too.

When not engaged in such gleeful hijinks, the mental sadist is quite miserable and bored, overflowing with venom and restless as all hell. If he/she has internet access (which they all of course manage to do), it’s easy to pop online and hunt down and find people to torture. We see it all the time. These are the unfunny “trolls” (as opposed to the funny or entertaining ones). They’re not the other nasty variety trying only to piss people off and get attention, but are instead intent on deeply upsetting obviously sensitive people.

Possible inner thought: “I don’t have any emotions except for hatred, so I’ll expertly torture those who feel other emotions.” That doesn’t make sense? Well, these people don’t think they need to make sense, to you. Again, jealousy comes to mind.

Why are they like this?

Unloved by those who should have loved them. Rejected by those who should have proudly held them. Abused and even tortured when innocent and helpless, even by those who should have cared for and protected them. Usually…probably.

Jealousy plays a big role there too, of course, as in siblings who got treated better, both real and imagined, and other kids whose parents properly loved and protected them. Happy families can appear to them as either totally phony or absurdly virtuous.

Then there are the rare individuals who had none of the above childhood traumas, only the opposite, and still became evil. Then there are the other unusual people who suffered terribly in childhood, even at the hands of those who should have protected them, who become pretty much the opposite of their abusers. With great strength they can transcend it all and are able to forgive and thereby even heal their abusers, to have a loving and much healthier relationship after all. But back to the former type…

A typical example of “kill yourself please and make me high”:

Someone whose beloved brother had died by drug overdose in front of him was told scathingly in some public comment section, by someone who knew and hated the good, successful man: “You could have saved your brother if only you’d have acted faster instead of pacing around wailing like an idiot. Everyone knows you delayed calling for help because you knew your brother was better than you. You purposely let him die.” Let that sink in, and realize the depth of the hatred, the horrid intent.

Vegans and animal activists have this sort of written or spoken assault blasted at them time and time again, so much so that we become impervious to it. But that imperviousness is only personal…we still suffer extreme sadness for the animals and other innocent victims, and these suicide makers know that, and continually get thrills by sticking that “knife” in again and again and again, never ending.

One thing they apparently haven’t realized though…

Surviving our extreme sadness only makes us stronger, our having become “hardened” to the emotion, able to turn it off and be pretty happy in life much of the time, compartmentalizing these parts of ourselves and holding them together with as little as a modicum of valid self-respect or self-love, in order to not fall to pieces. Our falling apart would be a great source of pride and joy for the “kill yourself” squad, naturally. But we’re armored against falling apart, despite unbelievable grief and worry for the innocent victims of this world. Our own non-participation in the absolute worst habits of “humanity” brings a sense of personal peace that cannot be broken by people who’ve made being poisonous and causing ever more grief in others their purpose in life. Let your inner peace be your suit of armor.

Basically good people: You know who you are and what the truth is…from the terrible and ugly to the wonderful and beautiful in you. You’ve no need to let some sick person invade you as these people so desire, to disturb your life and your personal growth and cause great harm. Don’t let them in, ever. Let them implode. Let them self-poison, even more than they already have. Many of them are unforgivable.

Let them self-exterminate.

[Images free from pixabay.com]

Bogus arguments against veganism · Child Abuse · Food · Health · Nutrition · Raising vegan children · Recipes · Soy foods · Uncategorized · Vegan babies · Vegan pregnancy

“Vegan toddler clinging to life, so malnourished by her parents’ vegan diet!”

UPDATED May 25, 2019, added some videos near bottom.

On this Mother’s Day I thought it appropriate to deal with the latest vegan-baby-starvation-witch-hunt-oh-boy-let’s-all-pile-on-and-vent-our-vegan-hating-rage-and-demand-their-babies-are-all-confiscated-by-the-authorities-blah-blah-blah, out of Australia this time. Never mind the fact that tons of ignorant, unhinged parents of every dietary stripe are guilty of malnourishing their children every day, while the only ones that become a fake news sensation and hate fest are the so-called vegans…a tiny minority of vegans at that.

Images free from Pixabay

Gee whiz, I wonder why that would be. Could it be…well, that the dietary advisors and the meat- and pharmaceutical industry-beholden media are hell bent on destroying the vegan movement in any insidious, libelous, slanderous, dishonest, sleazy way possible? Oh gosh no! Our trusted, concerned, friendly faces of the media would do no such thing!

People so love those stories, a perfect chance to really let those despised vegans have it.

Below is a small sampling of the thousands of comments out there in the last several days, mostly self-righteously, extremely hostile, in response to this latest media campaign against veganism. My faves are the fifth and sixth ones down:

”I think it should be illegal to force eating habits on children under the age of 12. Also to brainwash them into said eating habits. They shohld be able to choose when they’re in tbeir mid teens and not before. This poor little mite shows that being vegan from birth is dangerous and detrimental to life.” (But forcing dead animals into their mouths is A-ok! 😣)

“It has nothing to do with being Vegan, and everything to do with being bad irresponsible parents.”

“I think this has more to do with being abusive than being vegan. That child was not fed enough of anything. My son was between 4 and 5 kilo when he was born. Unreal to think that poor 19 month old was under 5 kilo!!”

“A Vegan diet isn’t appropriate for an infant period”

“Mindless vegans again. It should be illegal to feed your child any fad diet. You should be obliged to feed them all food groups. After 18 they choose…stop imposing your mental illness onto a child. Try telling a vegan almond milk isn’t suitable for children they have a complete meltdown. Whole mentality of it is sick.” (But other species’ milk is suitable for children? So mentally healthy. 😣)

“And this is why vegans should not be alowed force their diets on kids. Babies need meat and other foods..”

“They should never ever be allowed to have any more children. They have proved themselves unfit, nothing to do with vegan beliefs, just evil. Were the other children malnourish too, vile cruel couple”

“Most sensible comment ever.”

“Vegans are wallys”

Get the drift? And that’s a UK publication where veganism is quite popular. A few sensible people, but the rest are nothing but ignorant, raging, aggressive conformists’ showing evidence of their bacon & cheese clogged carotid arteries.

Long story short:

You don’t feed a vegan baby nothing but starch, protein and a bit of banana and have a fear of soy because of “hormones,” as did the latest Australian parents, and not expect the child to have problems. A child needs vegetables including greens, carrots, etc.; fruits including citrus; beans, nuts or nut butters, whole grains, flaxseed or chia seed MEAL, a B12 supplement, daily sunshine or a vegan D3 supplement, and yes, a serving or two of soy products like organic tofu, and possibly a multivitamin & mineral supplement if you have a fussy eater. It’s not rocket science, just basic Human Nutrition, for Babies – 101.

When people get caught up in gurus like the “admirably slim” guy on the right here who spout, “all this or all that, high or low carb, high or low/no fat, NO SOY!, all raw, all fruit, no grains!, etc.,” then people are being really foolish, in my opinion. (Of course anyone sensitive to ANY substance such as peanuts, gluten or soy should not have them in their diet.)

The reality, not the media witch hunt, regarding vegan kids:

Following are some videos and articles including a great collection of recipes, for anyone who wants to see some REAL vegan kids being raised by sane, common-sense vegan parents, and the how-tos, but it’s all fairly simple…the hard part, as with any family, is getting fussy babies and kids to eat healthy.

Three videos of healthy vegan babies:

Tons of great RECIPES on Pintrest, Vegan Baby! https://www.pinterest.com/mishmashfire/vegan-baby/

Video with nurse practitioner on feeding vegan babies and kids: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zwiVlka6imA

Article/podcast on the No Meat Athlete’s Kids: https://www.nomeatathlete.com/radio-196/

Article on nutrition for babies through teens from PCRM: https://www.pcrm.org/good-nutrition/nutrition-for-kids

Happy Mother’s Day to all the responsible vegan moms out there! Don’t let the hateful goons out there get you down and make you feel like pariahs…you’re the exact opposite of that.
Catholic Church · Child Abuse · Education · Human behavior · Personal memoirs · Religion · Uncategorized

Hell’s Belle, Sister Angeline

It was late 1962 and time for me to start school for the first time ever. Just my luck, I got put in Sister Angeline’s first-grade class. This Catholic nun was a real terror, a diminutive, plump woman fully robed in black and a bit of white with a sharply winged white cornette that made her appear to be over five feet tall, although her real height was more like 4’6”. The only time she wasn’t angry was when she’d successfully humiliated and/or hurt some six-year-old child for some crime like talking out of turn or peeing in one’s chair for fear of raising one’s hand to be excused to the bathroom. Humiliating and terrorizing children always put a little closed-mouth grin of satisfaction on her face, for a moment anyways.

She was perhaps 60 years old at the time, hard to be certain because we never saw anything but her face and her hands. Her hair color was a mystery, always fully covered by headdresses, usually the severest of cornettes. I imagined her hair was grayish. She strongly resembled the actress Zelda Rubinstein, but was not as fleshy or double-chinned, as Angeline was chubby, not fat. And Angeline’s big eyes were a piercing icy blue, not brown. Rubinstein played the eccentric medium, Tangina Barrons, in the early Poltergeist movies.

Church and school today, with Sister Angeline’s same old classroom obscured by cars in the background.

Sister Angeline was infamous for her clicker, which I believe she called a frog, a hand-held metal object with a springy thumb tab that made a loud clicking noise when she’d furiously press it, rapid fire when needed. It was a sound that struck alarm and fear in the more timid of her flock of little children, and induced more of a snicker of defiance in the bolder among us, who were yet also fearful of the demonic nun once they’d gone too far or got caught committing some sin.

Fear urination and vomiting were a regular part of the day in the holy Sister’s classroom.

QUIET was the rule for Sister Angeline’s class, including in the lunch area. Only speak when called upon to speak, by her, and you’d better have the right answer. At lunchtime, while other classes sat straddling their benches talking a bit or otherwise being insolent (a testament to the contemptible laxity of other teachers), our class was dead silent, eating every speck of our lunches in the proper order, often without tasting anything, chewing thoroughly and swallowing each lump of less than wanted nourishment in fear, looking straight ahead. (Ah, a touch of home though, those lunches, made by our moms, and how we longed to be home!) It was very hard to work up an appetite when one felt nauseous most of the time, from a mixture of fear and loathing of the short woman with the hateful glare. Those light blue eyes felt like daggers when they’d bore into you, so you’d do anything to avoid attracting her attention.

But then, lo and behold, that obedient silence and rigidness would attract her attention! I sat in her classroom once, concentrating on the alphabet or something and suddenly she loomed over me, seething eyes penetrating my soul, and she roared, “You think all you have to do is sit there and look pretty?!!” “No, Sister, I’m paying attention,” I replied, or something similar. She bristled and huffed and walked away, seemingly satisfied with the abject fear on my face and in my trembling voice.

She reduced me and others to feeling like bawling infants who didn’t dare let it out. Image source: sisterwolf.tumblr.com

I had several instances of vomiting and peeing in class and so did several other kids. If one dared to raise one’s hand and ask to go to the restroom, she’d always shout something humiliating like, “You should’ve thought of that before class! You’ll wait till recess, dodo bird!” Needless to say, with the urgent need to urinate combined with the terror, the urine flowed in that classroom. Vomiting usually occurred after lunch, with food struggling to be digested in extremely nervous stomachs, and failing and spewing out onto the floor. The smell of vomit is a prominent memory from those days. At the vomiting she was really furious, embarrassed to be calling on the janitor every day to throw sawdust onto yet another puddle of puke from some “insolent” child. The janitor calmly took it all in stride as if he’d been doing same with this crazy woman and her first-graders for some time.

Filthy sinner child, confess and do penance!

Sister would pick some boys up out of their seats by an ear and drag them across the room to be shut in the closet, or under her desk, or to face the Virgin Mary statue in the corner for an hour or so, for some crime like uttering a word or two without permission, perhaps to ask a question, or for not paying strict attention to her. How dare they! One raised one’s hand and waited patiently for the good Sister to call on one if one had a question or statement. If not, expect possibly to be slapped hard upside your head. Hard enough to hurt badly and shock you, not hard enough to do actual injury, mind you. Even Angeline had rules to follow. The church and school frowned upon lawsuits, naturally.

My mischievous friend Coleen often got in trouble with Sister Angeline, since Coleen was loud and assertive and liked to clown around. Even though her natural ways were severely constricted under Angeline’s rule, Coleen would occasionally laugh out loud at something or commit some other crime, and she was grabbed and led by ear to sit under Angeline’s desk. When teacher sat down at her desk with Coleen under it, Coleen peaked out through the gap at the bottom of the desk to face the class and made the “stinky” symbol by holding her nose and grimacing. Several kids saw that and burst out laughing.

Strictly disallowed!

“Is something so funny?!” the little nun growled. “Someone tell me what’s so funny or you’ll all get ten demerits and stay after school for detention!” No one spoke up; Coleen’s face was no longer visible as even she was scared then, and I believe we all did get the punishment promised, since Angeline wasn’t one to not follow through on her threats.

The old standby, the famous nuns’ ruler smack across a kid’s little knuckles.

Angeline also wielded the wooden ruler and used it with a demented sort of enjoyment I’d never witnessed before. She’d whack kids’ knuckles with a flourish and it was so loud an impact that I’d jump at each lashing, until I became accustomed to it anyways. I don’t remember her ever doing that to girls, just boys, although with Coleen there may have been an exception.

It appeared that the good Sister took the lyrics to the old song, “School Days,” to heart:

Reading and writing and ‘rithmetic

Taught to the tune of the hickory stick

The main thing you’d better have done in Angeline’s classroom was to learn her lessons and learn them well, so the alphabet, basic reading and writing, basic math, and the introductory religious dogma, we were all really good at, due to fear. Only the truly learning impaired kids failed to pick up on and grasp everything this evil little woman taught us. But we’d have all learned just as well with a teacher who wasn’t a tiny monster, who didn’t terrorize us into learning.

Imagine; this was my first school experience. I’d never gone to kindergarten or nursery school and started first grade when I was still five, nearing age six. So I think I may have been even more traumatized by the Angeline experience than the other kids, but I don’t know their stories so cannot be sure. It was an awful experience for a six-year-old girl or any child, and it shouldn’t have even been possible for such a crazy, mean, vicious woman to be put in charge of children of any age. But it was possible, because of the way the religion works and the way Christianity in general casts us all as sinners merely for being born, and having Christ’s crucifixion held over our guilty little heads as the reason we must confess our guilt and do continual penance for being so very rotten. The love for Jesus was paramount, even more than the guilty self-loathing. I assume all that sort of training played a big role in the dementia and cruelty of Sister Angeline. In later years, every teacher I had at that school, whether a nun or not, seemed absolutely angelic in comparison with The One.

Snitching on the holy woman was also terroristically advised against.

Sister Angeline conveyed to us all by some mysterious means that we were not to get her in trouble for her “strictness.” So it seems we were all hesitant to let our parents know exactly what was going on, or at least I was afraid to do so. But when things got bad enough and I would be extremely sick and nauseous before heading off to school and begging to stay home, tales of Angeline terror could be coaxed from me by my mom. She was saddened and horrified, but my dad, mainly at the urging of his devoutly religious Catholic sister-in-law, would convince me to hush up, that it was just the teacher’s being strict, and for me to not be so upset by it. Just laugh it off, he seemed to say. Oh how I tried, but no go. Both my parents did once have a meeting with Sister Angeline and school officials, but were dismissed with pretty much the same advice my dad gave me. Shocking to me then, but not at all now, after all I’ve learned about that church’s policies regarding pedophile priests.

Anyhow, that’s one standout life experience that formed who I became and who I am today, for whatever that’s worth. I never wanted to be anything even remotely similar to that little terror of a nun. Although I never could figure out exactly what she was. Except for evil, and extremely, devoutly Catholic.