I took the last couple of days away from writing opinion about what happened in Paris last Friday evening, and about the vermin who perpetrated the act. It's been an angering time, a depressing time, and futile time for the West.
Personally, I'm depressed and disillusioned enough that I don't even want to be doing this, but I'm forcing myself to do it. Quitting is not an option. Not for me, anyway.
In the Coliseum of history, the radical Muslims are leading the rest of the world by a fair amount in the body count column.
Yes, the West continues to bomb places inhabited by the vermin who scurry out from under their rocks to infiltrate the peaceful society that is the majority of humanity, and blow themselves up, taking as many innocents with them as they can. Unfortunately, those bombs that are dropped on the places these vermin live are just as indiscriminate as the suicide vests worn by the vermin. They kill far more peaceful people than they do murderers. I'm sorry to break it to you but there is no such thing as a "surgical" airstrike. Not unless the surgery involves removing healthy tissue to ensure the sick tissue is entirely gone. A radical mastectomy kind of surgery.
I have been away for the past couple of days because I am angry at both the East and the West, and at people who see only one point of view and who will not tolerate another. And in that, I am not speaking of our Middle Eastern friends. There is that kind of shouting down alive and well in Western society.
For the East, I am angry the Muslims themselves because while there are articles being written and words being spoken, those things alone are not going to have any effect on the vermin.
It's like talking to gang members and expecting words to change behavior. When has talking to people who have no soul left inside them ever worked?
The psychology of gang members has been well studied and documented.
Gangs tend to be made up of people who feel that they have been left behind, are separate from their families and society. Many have been victimized, abused or neglected. In the gang they find a place to be, where they are accepted and where hyperbolic speech of hate and destruction is actively encouraged. The louder, the better. These vermin are too far separated from joy and laughter and living and humanity to be swayed by words. They have found a place to be who they have become over time, a home where they are welcomed. Where words of hatred are spewed so regularly they replace the fabric of the soul they once had. They don't see, or perhaps they do but don't care, that the gang leaders look down on them as nothing more than cannon fodder.
The only thing these gang members understand is violence and death. So, the people who see and know these vermin need to do something direct. They need to figure out, within the confines of their societal structure, how they can best solve the problem. It could be a matter of withdrawing young people who are heading down that path from the realm of influence. Perhaps sending them to another place, family in another town or province, or to a reform school of some sort, where goodness is taught in place of hatred.
I'm sure some families do, but others don't, and that is their weakness. Intervention is not a universal will or a goal. If it were, the tide could be turned inside a generation. And that's what this has got to be, a systemic generational change throughout the Muslim community.
Parents must diligently teach their children the teachings in the Quran that speak of peace and the other 'people of the book' - Christians and Jews who also worship facets of Allah. They must teach against violent jihad.
That is one place where I think the Christian Bible has it all over other religious teachings. It is pure, simple and direct: Thou shalt not kill. Pretty much says it all, don't you think?
When they see their children being influenced by the sickness that has infiltrated their communities the parents need to intervene, to take whatever steps are necessary to separate their children from the vermin. Just as they would if their child took to hanging around with flea ridden diseased rats.
If these parents teach their children, show their children that life is good and worth living and enjoying, maybe the radicals will find it harder to find people willing to detonate themselves in innocent crowds.
It will take at least one generation, probably two, before this kind of radical thinking that is at the core of ISIS, Al Qaeda, the Taliban and the other groups is wiped out, put in its proper place - the garbage bin.
I am angry at the West for continuing to do precisely the wrong thing. How many hearts and minds are we winning by bombing the towns and neighborhoods and homes of law-abiding people? How many friends are we winning by blowing up the innocent along with the guilty?
I am also angry at the West because honest exchanges of ideas are suppressed, denounced, vilified. Say the right thing in the wrong way and you're marginalized, insulted. It's insidious and it is precisely that kind of behavior that leads to ISIS. Marginalized people draw together, seek brotherhood to share their ideas, developing new and becoming a group.
France is currently blowing up towns and neighborhoods and homes. So is Russia and so is America. Again, I ask: how many hearts and minds are we winning by this?
How many people are being persuaded by bombs falling from the sky accompanied by the cacophanous chatter coming from the Western media? Particularly when the messages vary from "blow all of 'em up" to "withdraw and let them fight it out amongst themselves".
Within the spectrum of thought and opinion are the centrists. The people in the middle who, for the most part, naively believe words will do the trick and spend their time alternately wringing their hands and vilifying the extremes - even though those on the ends may have a few solid ideas. Instead, the centrists pooh-pooh the statements made by the ends. They twist them and say the speaker is "ignorant" or willfully not paying attention. They wring and whine and don't come up with anything meaningful in the way of plans or potentials.
It's a frustrating situation, deadly frustrating because Paris will not be the last time or the next to last time these vermin scurry from under their rocks. This isn't a matter of killing more people and blowing things up to get them to stop. This is a test for the intellect of humanity, and its will to solve what appears to be an insolvable problem.
Have a peaceful day.
Best~
Philippa
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories
Showing posts with label Peace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Peace. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 17, 2015
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
An Open Letter on Laundry
Dear Husbands and Lovers, Live-in Male Romancers:
Please do not do the laundry. It really is for the best even if your heart is in the right place because unless your wife, lover or live-in female counterpart has trust in your abilities, it might not end well for everyone.
Perhaps she will say, 'yes please, I would really appreciate that!' All will be well with that one, assuming:
a) You know that chlorine bleach is not to be used on silk or delicate synthetics or items containing spandex.
b) You know that spots are not decorative accessories. They are unwanted, unloved stains that are supposed to be sprayed before being washed.
c) You know that it really is best to separate whites from colors, and that towels, sheets and napkins need to be washed in hot water to remove the odors of sweat, stains of grease, etc.
d) You know that the sweater that is lying there waiting with the other stuff needs to be put in a sweater bag while it's washed, then reshaped and dried flat without being twisted and wrung out of shape.
e) You know... yeah, I'm sure you get the picture by now.
I do not intend to be 'sexist' or put anyone down. I simply offer this as a suggestion to most (note: I said most, not all) married or live-in men in an effort to keep the peace on the home front. I am writing this from my own personal experience based on the men with whom I am most familiar.
My dad, bless his heart, knew where the laundry room was. He even knew which metal box was the washer. He just never went near those metal boxes unless there was something wrong with the plumbing or electrics. Same with my father-in-law and brothers. So, that's four out of five men in my experience. As for the fifth, he insists that:
a) chlorine bleach is good for everything
b) if it is white, no matter the fabric, it must be bleached
c) hot water is good for everything
d) spraying for stains is for wimps
e) separate loads are inefficient and a waste of money. Just jam it all in.
The problem is that laundry is like rocket science. It isn't just a matter of jamming a bunch of stuff into the hole and then dumping in the soap and bleach and turning that puppy on to HOT.
If you don't care what your clothes look and smell like, it probably is okay to do that.
Women though... Nope, we don't appreciate the cavalier adventurous approach of 'gee, I wonder what happens if I do this...'
What got me going on this is that I left a note in the laundry hamper before I left for work yesterday. There was a big pile of stuff waiting and I knew that, more than likely, it would be washed before I got home.
I like my clothes, that's why I pay money for them. When I wash them, I'm particular.
So, I thought to myself, if the pile is still here when I get home, great! I'll wash everything and handle it as I prefer, then hang the rest out to dry in the morning. But I better write a note, just in case.
The note said:
'Please look for stains on my green shirt. Please do not bleach the white top - it has spandex and is already stretched, I don't want it stretched more. Please lay the green top and the white top flat to dry, or they will stretch.'
I left for work and then, hours after it was too late, I realized what was probably going to happen based on typical past experience.
He would find the note.
He would not read the note.
He would throw the note away.
There is a pile of clothes.
He would wash it.
I am grateful, and I really appreciate the effort because he got most of it right. It seems he even went so far as to read the note. It was lying on top of the washer when I got home.
He did spray the stains on the green blouse and they're gone. Yay!
He did bleach the white top. Boo! Half-marks though, because even though he did that, he also laid it flat to dry. Yay!
Fortunately, because the white top does smell like bleach and the green top does not, I have confidence that he did not stuff everything into the washer all together. The individual loads were worthy of being washed individually.
That's another historical peeve of mine. If the loads are too small to wash, he won't leave them for another time. He'll just stuff everything from the hamper - sweaty socks, used underwear (skid marks and all) and my clothes - into the washer for one load.
Fecal coliform, what's that?
Trust me - if you don't know, you don't want to know, and if you do know, you know that you don't want it on any more of your skin surface than absolutely necessary. You certainly do not want it on the towel you use to dry your hands or the dishes, or the napkin that sits on your dinner table that you then use on your mouth.
He is a good man. He does try. But I think there is a genetic block in the male of the species that precludes most of them from understanding the intricacies of doing laundry.
It's just like most women have a genetic block that makes most of us uncomfortable tinkering around in the guts of a car 'for fun' or 'because it isn't working'. Most women in my experience won't change a flat tire because it's too dirty or they don't know how or, God forbid! they might break a fingernail. That's what AAA is for, right?
Anyway, I have been trying to explain the ins and outs of laundry for more than thirty years. Most of my requests, suggestions and directives (when times are desperate), have been to no avail. Even with proof that 'all together' is not necessary the best idea.
I have offered him smell tests. Remember the sweaty socks and dirty bath towels mentioned above? Here's a smell test:
Wash them in warm water and then, as soon as they come out of the washer, smell them while they're still damp. Take a great big whiff.
There's a reason, beyond softening the fabric, that fabric softeners exist. It's to cover up the icky smell of old sweat and skin cells and the stuff left behind after use.
Next time you do a load of sweaty socks and towels and sheets, etc., wash them on hot (extra hot if you have the option on your washer), and then sniff. The difference is remarkable.
Basically, my male friends, save yourself the hassle of doing the laundry and then getting blamed for doing the laundry.
If the sweater doesn't get washed on hot it won't shrink.
If the spandex top doesn't get bleached, twisted and then hung up to dry, it won't stretch.
If you don't use bleach on everything, things will mostly keep the colors they originally came with.
Otherwise, ask permission, ask for lessons, take copious notes because with the mix of fabrics and care requirements these days, it really is rocket science.
Good luck!
Best~
Philippa
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories
Please do not do the laundry. It really is for the best even if your heart is in the right place because unless your wife, lover or live-in female counterpart has trust in your abilities, it might not end well for everyone.
Perhaps she will say, 'yes please, I would really appreciate that!' All will be well with that one, assuming:
a) You know that chlorine bleach is not to be used on silk or delicate synthetics or items containing spandex.
b) You know that spots are not decorative accessories. They are unwanted, unloved stains that are supposed to be sprayed before being washed.
c) You know that it really is best to separate whites from colors, and that towels, sheets and napkins need to be washed in hot water to remove the odors of sweat, stains of grease, etc.
d) You know that the sweater that is lying there waiting with the other stuff needs to be put in a sweater bag while it's washed, then reshaped and dried flat without being twisted and wrung out of shape.
e) You know... yeah, I'm sure you get the picture by now.
I do not intend to be 'sexist' or put anyone down. I simply offer this as a suggestion to most (note: I said most, not all) married or live-in men in an effort to keep the peace on the home front. I am writing this from my own personal experience based on the men with whom I am most familiar.
My dad, bless his heart, knew where the laundry room was. He even knew which metal box was the washer. He just never went near those metal boxes unless there was something wrong with the plumbing or electrics. Same with my father-in-law and brothers. So, that's four out of five men in my experience. As for the fifth, he insists that:
a) chlorine bleach is good for everything
b) if it is white, no matter the fabric, it must be bleached
c) hot water is good for everything
d) spraying for stains is for wimps
e) separate loads are inefficient and a waste of money. Just jam it all in.
The problem is that laundry is like rocket science. It isn't just a matter of jamming a bunch of stuff into the hole and then dumping in the soap and bleach and turning that puppy on to HOT.
If you don't care what your clothes look and smell like, it probably is okay to do that.
Women though... Nope, we don't appreciate the cavalier adventurous approach of 'gee, I wonder what happens if I do this...'
What got me going on this is that I left a note in the laundry hamper before I left for work yesterday. There was a big pile of stuff waiting and I knew that, more than likely, it would be washed before I got home.
I like my clothes, that's why I pay money for them. When I wash them, I'm particular.
So, I thought to myself, if the pile is still here when I get home, great! I'll wash everything and handle it as I prefer, then hang the rest out to dry in the morning. But I better write a note, just in case.
The note said:
'Please look for stains on my green shirt. Please do not bleach the white top - it has spandex and is already stretched, I don't want it stretched more. Please lay the green top and the white top flat to dry, or they will stretch.'
I left for work and then, hours after it was too late, I realized what was probably going to happen based on typical past experience.
He would find the note.
He would not read the note.
He would throw the note away.
There is a pile of clothes.
He would wash it.
I am grateful, and I really appreciate the effort because he got most of it right. It seems he even went so far as to read the note. It was lying on top of the washer when I got home.
He did spray the stains on the green blouse and they're gone. Yay!
He did bleach the white top. Boo! Half-marks though, because even though he did that, he also laid it flat to dry. Yay!
Fortunately, because the white top does smell like bleach and the green top does not, I have confidence that he did not stuff everything into the washer all together. The individual loads were worthy of being washed individually.
That's another historical peeve of mine. If the loads are too small to wash, he won't leave them for another time. He'll just stuff everything from the hamper - sweaty socks, used underwear (skid marks and all) and my clothes - into the washer for one load.
Fecal coliform, what's that?
Trust me - if you don't know, you don't want to know, and if you do know, you know that you don't want it on any more of your skin surface than absolutely necessary. You certainly do not want it on the towel you use to dry your hands or the dishes, or the napkin that sits on your dinner table that you then use on your mouth.
He is a good man. He does try. But I think there is a genetic block in the male of the species that precludes most of them from understanding the intricacies of doing laundry.
It's just like most women have a genetic block that makes most of us uncomfortable tinkering around in the guts of a car 'for fun' or 'because it isn't working'. Most women in my experience won't change a flat tire because it's too dirty or they don't know how or, God forbid! they might break a fingernail. That's what AAA is for, right?
Anyway, I have been trying to explain the ins and outs of laundry for more than thirty years. Most of my requests, suggestions and directives (when times are desperate), have been to no avail. Even with proof that 'all together' is not necessary the best idea.
I have offered him smell tests. Remember the sweaty socks and dirty bath towels mentioned above? Here's a smell test:
Wash them in warm water and then, as soon as they come out of the washer, smell them while they're still damp. Take a great big whiff.
There's a reason, beyond softening the fabric, that fabric softeners exist. It's to cover up the icky smell of old sweat and skin cells and the stuff left behind after use.
Next time you do a load of sweaty socks and towels and sheets, etc., wash them on hot (extra hot if you have the option on your washer), and then sniff. The difference is remarkable.
Basically, my male friends, save yourself the hassle of doing the laundry and then getting blamed for doing the laundry.
If the sweater doesn't get washed on hot it won't shrink.
If the spandex top doesn't get bleached, twisted and then hung up to dry, it won't stretch.
If you don't use bleach on everything, things will mostly keep the colors they originally came with.
Otherwise, ask permission, ask for lessons, take copious notes because with the mix of fabrics and care requirements these days, it really is rocket science.
Good luck!
Best~
Philippa
Follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/PhilippaStories
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)