I hate hate.

But I also love hate. You could say I have a love-hate relationship with hate. I hate that I feel that way. Which is why I wrote this book. It’s a book I love to hate, and vice versa.

My book is called the Joy of Hate for three reasons. One: the original title, “Black, Lesbian and Proud” was already taken.

Oddly, by Wink Martindale.

Two: it refers to the biochemical commotion that erupts in my brain when I feel an urge of strong distaste for something that bugs me. It’s an experience that is both exhilarating but ultimately exhausting (as fruitless as self-pleasure). When I feel that anger, I cannot do anything but scratch at it. It’s a mental mosquito bite and it feels good to keep digging at it.

Three: the title’s stronger meaning salutes the freedom one feels rejecting, hating, or mocking things you aren’t supposed to reject, hate or mock — meaning the liberal, romantic, misguided opinions operating under the guise of the greater good.

And four: it exposes people who get off pretending to hate something, or hate you, in order to score political points. These are the phony toleratic — a kook who claims to be tolerant, until he runs into someone who disagrees with him (you). The toleratic travel in packs, called the tolerati. Examples of tolerati: soros-funded bloggers, hyenas, the Manson family, Hollywood. The tolerati traffic in faux hate, as a way to elevate their profile, and lower yours. They will overlook the sleaze on their own side (coming in various forms, like Bill Maher and syphilis), while demanding you apologize for a “cruel joke” that harmed no one.

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