“HATRED” is a word bomb. Throw it into a crowd and watch it paralyze thought. Put it on your front lawn and wound the opposition with a powerful package of guilt. Feel your superiority magically rise. “Hatred” is a status symbol and an incantation — hate, hate, hate. The great thing about calling someone “hateful” is, it entitles you to be hateful. “Poof!” — and you are good, infinitely better than those crass, working-class haters with their hateful hatefulness.

The term is a weapon used by some not-very-nice people to demonize anyone who refuses groveling submission to the world controllers. You don’t need vast armies to take over the world. You just need the right words.

Hatred is invisible. You can’t ever disprove that you are hateful. You don’t feel hateful? That doesn’t mean you are not. ‘Hate’ is the perfect snare, entangling its victims in a sticky web.

Line up the hatefully hateful, the haters, the hate-happy. You have the right — no, the obligation — to hate them.

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