Ok, I lied. Here's another point.

When I post things that are critical of the US government, which I do whenever I feel it's called for, the worst thing I ever experience in terms of responses to what I post, is DougR complaining that he thinks I delight in bashing the US.

During the time that I have been involved in discussions about the middle east, I've been called ignorant, and hateful, I've been told to rot in hell with Osama Bin Laden, people have insinuated on more than one occasion that I am an anti-semite, and I've been ridiculed in several other ways.

And this is for speaking out on behalf of people (the Palestinians), who I felt needed someone to speak out for them. On the occasions when I've spoken out for Jews here in the forum, I've never had anything hateful directed at me in response.

So it seems to me that if I get ridiculed and abused and told to rot in hell for speaking up for Palestinians, someone is sending me a pretty clear message that I should either keep silent or expect to lose friends and gain some enemies. And that makes me sad. Because the part of me that prompts me to speak up for people like the Palestinians when I percieve them to be in need, is the very same part of me that has in the past, and will continue in the future, to speak up for Jews or anyone else who needs it. And that part of me is my humanity.

I'll tell you a little porcupine story. This really happened. I used to be a zookeeper. One of the animals I was responsible for was a porcupine named Jo Jo. The zoo where I worked had some problems with the way they designed the lighting in the enclosures. And used sand instead of an absorbant substrate, and there were problems with the ventilaton and the air conditioning. It was a perfect environment for breeding fleas.

After a few months, I noticed Jo Jo scampering around a lot and squealing. He seemed to be in distress for some reason, but I couldn't tell from looking what was wrong. So I took him to the zoo vet to have him checked out. It turns out that he was covered in fleas, but because of his quills, he couldn't scratch the way other animals could, and there was no way for me to see the fleas. So I didn't have any way of knowing that he had a flea problem. And in the end, he died of anemia because of the fleas.

So the moral of the story is that sometimes being a porcupine isn't all that it's cracked up to be. And sometimes having quills causes more problems than it solves.

And now I really am going to go away and be quiet for a while.