Der Berliner Senat fördert Theaterprojekte des seit Jahrzehnten einschlägig bekannten Anti-Israel-Aktivisten Ahmad Shah. Die Unterstützung ist ebenso fragwürdig wie die Kooperation des Zentrum für Antisemitismusforschung (ZfA) der TU. Von Antje Schippmann | DIE WELT Anlässlich des Al-Quds-Tag-Marschs ist es Tradition geworden, dass die Berliner Politik gegen Antisemitismus auf die Straße geht. Doch bei der Förderpraxis […]

via Staatlich geförderter Antisemitismus — Brights – Die Natur des Zweifels

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Staatlich geförderter Antisemitismus — Brights – Die Natur des Zweifels

Exerpt from “The Animal-Cruelty Syndrome”


Before its too late....

Neuroscientists are now beginning to get a fix on the physical underpinnings of empathy. A research team at the University of Chicago headed by Jean Decety, a neuroscientist who specializes in the mechanisms behind empathy and emotional self-regulation, has performed fMRI scans on 16-to-18-year-old boys with aggressive-conduct disorder and on another group of similarly aged boys who exhibited no unusual signs of aggression.

Each group was shown videos of people enduring both accidental pain, like stubbing a toe, and intentionally inflicted pain, like being punched in the arm. In the scans, both groups displayed a similar activation of their empathic neural circuitry, and in some cases, the boys with conduct disorder exhibited considerably more activity than those in the control group. But what really caught the attention of the researchers was the fact that when viewing the videos of intentionally inflicted pain, the aggressive-disorder teenagers displayed extremely heightened activity in…

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what-is-magic-without-ape-parts-inside-the-illicit-trade-devastating-nigerias-apes/


 

What is magic without ape parts? Inside the illicit trade devastating Nigeria’s apes

What is magic without ape parts? Inside the illicit trade devastating Ni…
OHOFIA, Nigeria — The fading sunlight, half-coned and yellow, turns the evening murky. The crowing of roosters m…

 

 

“A LETTER FROM A GAS CHAMBER MAN” IN AN ANIMAL SHELTER


 

A Letter from a Gas Chamber Man in an Animal Shelter


This where your pups will end up, I put dogs in the gas chamber Yes, I Gas Dogs and Cats for a Living.
I’m an Animal Control officer in a very small town in central North Carolina. I’m in my mid thirties, and have been working for the town in different positions since high school. There is not much work here, and working for the county provides good pay and benefits for a person like me without a higher education. I’m the person you all write about how horrible I am.
More… I’m the one that gasses the dogs and cats and makes them suffer. I’m the one that pulls their dead corpses out smelling of Carbon Monoxide and throws them into green plastic bags. But I’m also the one that hates my job and hates what I have to do.
First off, all you people out there that judge me, don’t. God is judging me, and I know I’m going to Hell. Yes, I’m going to hell. I wont lie, it’s despicable, cold, cruel and I feel like a serial killer. I’m not all to blame, if the law would mandate spay and neuter, lots of these dogs and cats wouldn’t be here for me to gas. I’m the devil, I know it, but I want you people to see that there is another side to me the devil Gas Chamber man.
The shelter usually gasses on Friday morning.
Friday’s are the day that most people look forward to, this is the day that I hate, and wish that time will stand still on Thursday night. Thursday night, late, after nobody’s around, my friend and I go through a fast food line, and buy 50 dollars worth of cheeseburgers and fries, and chicken. I’m not allowed to feed the dogs on Thursday, for I’m told that they will make a mess in the gas chamber, and why waste the food.
So, Thursday night, with the lights still closed, I go into the saddest room that anyone can every imagine, and let all the doomed dogs out of their cages.
I have never been bit, and in all my years doing this, the dogs have never fought over the food. My buddy and I, open each wrapper of cheeseburger and chicken sandwich, and feed them to the skinny, starving dogs. They swallow the food so fast, that I don’t believe they even taste it. There tails are wagging, and some don’t even go for the food, they roll on their backs wanting a scratch on their bellies. They start running, jumping and kissing me and my buddy.
They go back to their food, and come back to us. All their eyes are on us with such trust and hope, and their tails wag so fast, that I have come out with black and blues on my thighs.. They devour the food, then it’s time for them to devour some love and peace. My buddy and I sit down on the dirty, pee stained concrete floor, and we let the dogs jump on us. They lick us, they put their butts in the air to play, and they play with each other. Some lick each other, but most are glued on me and my buddy.
I look into the eyes of each dog. I give each dog a name. They will not die without a name. I give each dog 5 minutes of unconditional love and touch. I talk to them, and tell them that I’m so sorry that tomorrow they will die a gruesome, long, torturous death at the hands of me in the gas chamber. Some tilt their heads to try to understand. I tell them, that they will be in a better place, and I beg them not to hate me. I tell them that I know I’m going to hell, but they will all be playing with all the dogs and cats in heaven. After about 30 minutes, I take each dog individually, into their feces filled concrete jail cell, and pet them and scratch them under their chins. Some give me their paw, and I just want to die. I just want to die.
I close the jail cell on each dog, and ask them to forgive me. As my buddy and I are walking out, we watch as every dog is smiling at us and them don’t even move their heads. They will sleep, with a full belly, and a false sense of security. As we walk out of the doomed dog room, my buddy and I go to the cat room. We take our box, and put the very friendly kittens and pregnant cats in our box. The shelter doesn’t keep tabs on the cats, like they do the dogs. As I hand pick which cats are going to make it out, I feel like I’m playing God, deciding whose going to live and die.
We take the cats into my truck, and put them on blankets in the back. Usually, as soon as we start to drive away, there are purring cats sitting on our necks or rubbing against us. My buddy and I take our one way two hour trip to a county that is very wealthy and they use injection to kill animals. We go to exclusive neighborhoods, and let one or two cats out at a time. They don’t want to run, they want to stay with us. We shoo them away, which makes me feel sad. I tell them that these rich people will adopt them, and if worse comes to worse and they do get put down, they will be put down with a painless needle being cradled by a loving veterinarian. After the last cat is free, we drive back to our town.
It’s about 5 in the morning now, about two hours until I have to gas my best friends.
I go home, take a shower, take my 4 anti-anxiety pills and drive to work.. I don’t eat, I can’t eat. It’s now time, to put these animals in the gas chamber. I put my ear plugs in, and when I go to the collect the dogs, the dogs are so excited to see me, that they jump up to kiss me and think they are going to play. I put them in the rolling cage and take them to the gas chamber. They know. They just know. They can smell the death.. They can smell the fear. They start whimpering the second I put them in the box. The boss tells me to squeeze in as many as I can to save on gas. He watches. He knows I hate him, he knows I hate my job. I do as I’m told. He watches until all the dogs, and cats (thrown in together) are fighting and screaming. The sounds is very muffled to me because of my ear plugs.

Inside the Gas Chamber
He walks out, I turn the gas on, and walk out.
I walk out as fast as I can. I walk into the bathroom, and I take a pin and draw blood from my hand. Why? The pain and blood takes my brain off of what I just did. In 40 minutes, I have to go back and unload the dead animals. I pray that none survived, which happens when I overstuff the chamber. I pull them out with thick gloves, and the smell of carbon monoxide makes me sick. So does the vomit and blood, and all the bowel movements. I pull them out, put them in plastic bags.
They are in heaven now, I tell myself. I then start cleaning up the mess, the mess, that YOU PEOPLE are creating by not spay or neutering your animals. The mess that YOU PEOPLE are creating by not demanding that a vet come in and do this humanely. You ARE THE TAXPAYERS, DEMAND that this practice STOP!
So, don’t call me the monster, the devil, the gasser, call the politicians, the shelter directors, and the county people, the devil. Heck, call the governor, tell him to make it stop.
As usual, I will take sleeping pills tonight to drown out the screams I heard in the past, before I discovered the ear plugs. I will jump and twitch in my sleep, and I believe I’m starting to hallucinate.
This is my life. Don’t judge me. Believe me, I judge myself enough.
please CROSS POST this, and don’t be proud; SPAY AND NEUTER your pet, and keep it indoors, for the sake of our animals Futures.
                 QUOTED NOW IN MY NEW BOOK “CHAIN OF PAIN” WITH A NEW TITLE – PLS. COME BACK LEARN MORE

Moo Baulch, CEO, Domestic Violence NSW


Remarkable People

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I believe we are here to be the best version of ourselves that we can be – and to improve the lives of others around us. Violence is never an acceptable choice, whether it be verbal, physical, psychological, cultural or lateral. We are all part of multiple communities; it’s our responsibility to challenge violence and bullying.

Moo Baulch is the CEO at Domestic Violence NSW (DVNSW), an organisation that arose from the women’s refuge movement in the 1970s. In 2013, DVNSW changed its name, mission and vision to reflect a significant shift in the way our community responds to domestic violence. It shifted its focus from the immediate crisis accommodation support paradigm pioneered by strong feminists to a range of holistic domestic and family violence support options for women, children, families and communities. Today, DVNSW is the peak body for a diverse range of organisations. Its mission is to eliminate domestic…

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“Die letzten sieben Tage der Schöpfung” von Jörg Zink “Am Anfang schuf Gott Himmel und Erde”


Die letzten sieben Tage der Schöpfung
von Jörg Zink

(Im Original mit Federzeichnungen von Heinz Giebeler)

Am Anfang schuf Gott Himmel und Erde.

Aber nach vielen Jahrmillionen war der Mensch endlich klug genug. Er sprach:

                   Wer redet hier von Gott? Ich nehme meine Zukunft selbst in die Hand. 

Er nahm sie, und es begannen die letzten sieben Tage der Erde.

Am Morgen des ersten Tages
beschloss der Mensch, frei zu sein und gut, schön und glücklich. Nicht mehr Ebenbild eines Gottes, sondern ein Mensch. Und weil er etwas glauben musste, glaubte er an die Freiheit und an das Glück, an Zahlen und Mengen, an die Börse und den Fortschritt, an die Planung und seine Sicherheit. Denn zu seiner Sicherheit hatte er den Grund zu seinen Füßen gefüllt mit Raketen und Atomsprengköpfen.

Am zweiten Tage
starben die Fische in den Industriegewässern, die Vögel am Pulver aus der chemischen Fabrik, das den Raupen bestimmt war, die Feldhasen an den Bleiwolken von der Straße, die Schoßhunde an der schönen roten Farbe der Wurst, die Heringe am Öl auf dem Meer und an dem Müll auf dem Grunde des Ozeans. Denn der Müll war aktiv.

Am dritten Tage
verdorrte das Gras auf den Feldern und das Laub an den Bäumen, das Moos an den Felsen und die Blumen in den Gärten. Denn der Mensch machte das Wetter selbst und verteilte den Regen nach genauem Plan. Es war nur ein kleiner Fehler in dem Rechner, der den Regen verteilte. Als sie den Fehler fanden, lagen die Lastkähne auf dem trockenen Grund des schönen Rheins.

Am vierten Tage
gingen drei von vier Milliarden Menschen zugrunde. Die einen an den Krankheiten, die der Mensch gezüchtet hatte, denn einer hatte vergessen, die Behälter zu schließen, die für den nächsten Krieg bereitstanden. Und ihre Medikamente halfen nichts. Die hatten zu lange schon wirken müssen in Hautcremes und Schweinelendchen. Die anderen starben am Hunger, weil etliche von ihnen den Schlüssel zu den Getreidesilos versteckt hatten. Und sie fluchten Gott, der ihnen doch das Glück schuldig war. Er war doch der liebe Gott!

Am fünften Tage
drückten die letzten Menschen den roten Knopf, denn sie fühlten sich bedroht. Feuer hüllte den Erdball ein, die Berge brannten, die Meere verdampften, und die Betonskelette in den Städten standen schwarz und rauchten. Und die Engel im Himmel sahen, wie der blaue Planet rot wurde, dann schmutzig braun und schließlich aschgrau. Und sie unterbrachen ihren Gesang für zehn Minuten.

Am sechsten Tage
ging das Licht aus. Staub und Asche verhüllten die Sonne, den Mond und die Sterne. Und die letzte Küchenschabe, die in einem Raketenbunker überlebt hatte, ging zugrunde an der übermäßigen Wärme, die ihr gar nicht gut bekam.

Am siebten Tage
war Ruhe. Endlich. Die Erde war wüst und leer, und es war finster über den Rissen und Spalten, die in der trockenen Erdrinde aufgesprungen waren. Und der Geist des Menschen irrlichterte als Totengespenst über dem Chaos. Tief unten in der Hölle aber erzählte man sich die spannende Geschichte von dem Menschen, der seine Zukunft in die Hand nahm, und das Gelächter dröhnte hinauf bis zu den Chören der Engel.

Die letzten sieben Tage der Schöpfung – Jörg Zink
https://www.joerg-zink.de/tag/die-letzten-sieben-tage-der-schopfung/feed

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Diesen Text schrieb Jörg Zink 1970 ursprünglich für eine Anti-Atom-Demonstration in Stuttgart. Er wurde zuerst gedruckt in „Die Welt hat noch eine Zukunft – eine Einladung zum Gespräch“ (Stuttgart, Kreuz-Verlag, 1971). Die Hilfsaktion „Brot für die Welt“ verwendete 1973 den Text – zusammen mit sieben Graphiken des Metzinger Künstlers Heinz Giebeler (1927 – 2004) – als Plakat für eine Aktion „Einfacher leben – einfacher überleben – Leben entdecken“. Wir danken „Brot für die Welt“ für die erteilte Abdruckgenehmigung der Bilder auf dieser Seite.