For my blog post today about Conrad Black's Richard M. Nixon: A Life in Full, I will use as my starting-point something that Black says on page 654:
Nixon
"was also always ordering boycotts of writers and television anchors.
There was no point to his directed hostility to CBS's Walter Cronkite,
NBC's David Brinkley, and Time's Hugh Sidey. They had been in
Washington a long time and would still be there long after Nixon
left...Nixon should not have paid a moment's attention to any of them,
other than normal courtesies when they met."
Hate can be futile. I
can hate someone, but that person probably doesn't care one way or the
other what I think, so why should I drain myself with my hatred? A
person who hates can try to undermine those whom he hates, but then he's
opening himself up to retaliation. I have a hard time going to the
other extreme and loving my enemies, however, for I really cannot "love"
someone towards whom I lack at least some base of emotional affection.
Lately, what I've found myself thinking to myself is: "I hate that
person. Okay, I don't hate that person, since that person is a human
being, like I am. But I don't love that person, either. Come to think
of it, I don't even have to think about that person!"