Det pågår ett krig mot muslimer och halal-slakt.
Många äter halalslaktat kött idag. Även om jag är Rawfoodist så äter många muslimer fortfarande kött. Det de inte vet är hur man slaktar kor och får. Tyvärr görs det inte på det sätt som islam förespråkar, dvs att man skär så att blodet rinner utan man hugger av huvudet. Skillnaden är stor och olustig.
Alla som har skurit sig gör det av en anledning. Först för att det gör ont, men sedan för att man känner lättnad och lugn.
Såhär berättar en som brukar skära sig hur det känns:
"“People always want to know what it feels like, so I’ll tell you: there’s a sting when you first slice, and then your heart speeds up when you see the blood, because you know you’ve done something you shouldn’t have, and yet you’ve gotten away with it. Then you sort of go into a trance, because it’s truly dazzling—that bright red line, like a highway route on a map that you want to follow to see where it leads. And—God—the sweet release, that’s the best way I can describe it, kind of like a balloon that’s tied to a little kid’s hand, which somehow breaks free and floats into the sky. You just know that balloon is thinking, Ha, I don’t belong to you after all; and at the same time, Do they have any idea how beautiful the view is from up here? And then the balloon remembers, after the fact, that it has a wicked fear of heights.<br />When reality kicks in, you grab some toilet paper or a paper towel (better than a washcloth, because the stains don’t ever come out 100 percent) and you press hard against the cut. You can feel your embarrassment; it’s a backbeat underneath your pulse. Whatever relief there was a minute ago congeals, like cold gravy, into a fist in the pit of your stomach. You literally make yourself sick, because you promised yourself last time would be the last time, and once again, you’ve let yourself down. So you hide the evidence of your weakness under la<x>yers of clothes long enough to cover the cuts, even if it’s summertime and no one is wearing jeans or long sleeves. You throw the bloody tissues into the toilet and watch the water go pink before you flush them into oblivion, and you wish it were really that easy.
Många äter halalslaktat kött idag. Även om jag är Rawfoodist så äter många muslimer fortfarande kött. Det de inte vet är hur man slaktar kor och får. Tyvärr görs det inte på det sätt som islam förespråkar, dvs att man skär så att blodet rinner utan man hugger av huvudet. Skillnaden är stor och olustig.
Alla som har skurit sig gör det av en anledning. Först för att det gör ont, men sedan för att man känner lättnad och lugn.
Såhär berättar en som brukar skära sig hur det känns:
"“People always want to know what it feels like, so I’ll tell you: there’s a sting when you first slice, and then your heart speeds up when you see the blood, because you know you’ve done something you shouldn’t have, and yet you’ve gotten away with it. Then you sort of go into a trance, because it’s truly dazzling—that bright red line, like a highway route on a map that you want to follow to see where it leads. And—God—the sweet release, that’s the best way I can describe it, kind of like a balloon that’s tied to a little kid’s hand, which somehow breaks free and floats into the sky. You just know that balloon is thinking, Ha, I don’t belong to you after all; and at the same time, Do they have any idea how beautiful the view is from up here? And then the balloon remembers, after the fact, that it has a wicked fear of heights.<br />When reality kicks in, you grab some toilet paper or a paper towel (better than a washcloth, because the stains don’t ever come out 100 percent) and you press hard against the cut. You can feel your embarrassment; it’s a backbeat underneath your pulse. Whatever relief there was a minute ago congeals, like cold gravy, into a fist in the pit of your stomach. You literally make yourself sick, because you promised yourself last time would be the last time, and once again, you’ve let yourself down. So you hide the evidence of your weakness under la<x>yers of clothes long enough to cover the cuts, even if it’s summertime and no one is wearing jeans or long sleeves. You throw the bloody tissues into the toilet and watch the water go pink before you flush them into oblivion, and you wish it were really that easy.
Så här ska det gå till:
Tyvärr är det inte så industrin gör utan såhär:
Jag är själv raw foodist men slaktar 1 gång per år o ger bort det till fattiga.:
