Ayn Rand's Virtue of Selfishness
Her absurdity is not without its charms. Ayn fancied herself to be the greatest philosopher of all time, and her teenage boyfriend Nathanial Brandon? He may be a head above or a head below the second greatest philosopher of all time, Aristotle. Depends on what day you asked her. Really now! Who told you so, Ayn?
Why, Brandon himself. Teenage worship-artist. Later to be THE guru of the self-esteem movement. He read Ayn's paltry Fountainhead a mere seventy-seven times in a row, declared it the greatest book since the bible, or whatever, and idolized her beyond all belief her while yet making her his side bitch to his own wife. He praised Ayn so highly, this ugly Jewish immigrate, just hideous and short social outast, but with SOME conceits to work on. After all, she was a Jew, and it is their religion faith and delusion that Jews are superhuman just because they are Jews. Better than us on pricinple. Believing a thing is so may not always be enough, but it gives you something to work with. I forgive this.
Ayn Rand's birth name is less acclaimable: Alisa Zinov'yevna Rosenbaum. Endured Russia, that eternal shit state in its eternal sate of shit. But had some good memories of her family. Her father always styled his ugly duckling as "Ayn" which rhymes with "mine" and means gold.
She hated Communism and Russia in exactly the degrees and tones Communis and Russia deserve to be hated. Not even overstated. Right on the level. Good job, Rosenbaum.
That the silly kid Brandon warped her mind and sense of self-importance did her some good. It helped her writing. Delusions of grandeur are the first step to grandeur. She could never have become the found-er of the Libertarian party, almost single handedly, if she played modest.
As for her "virtue of selfishness," she manages to demonize Kant to ALL extremes, Jew style, those usu-rious super-geniuses: she praises Aristotle to Heaven and Kant to hell, with this one fine caveat: she never read a word of either. Not one living word. Only the most tertiary of second-rate glosses. She read mere textbooks on the men and fancied herself subtle enough to see to the center. So, she took the impossible position of damning Kant in the most obscene way as the most evil man who ever existed, while seem-ingly innocently picking up his greatest motto, not recognizing the source, and claiming it as her own:
Man should be treated as an end not a means.
Her Virtue of Selfishness depends on her idiosyncratic take and tact of reducing all "sacrifice" to sheer and categorical evil, and the imposture to demand personal sacrifice for the collective as the MOST OB-SCENE EVIL POSSIBLE. Considering the context of her upbringing, and the way Stalin and Hitler were regarded in their time and people as the MOST MORAL people of all time, demanding you sacri-fice EVERYTHING for them, I can see how Rand would want to escape this din.
If I said the Jewish author wrote novels praising businessmen and bankers, whoever was good at making gold, one of the changing his name legally to Midas because he was good at making gold, and called she directly claimed greed a virtue, and praised the almighty dollar, and the author herself wore the American dollar sign as a gold lapel on her jacket as a religious symbol, the world would call me a slanderer, of course, but the most obvious and stupid of slanderers. But I am not slandering. I am describing Ayn and her coterie to a T.
I want to make a long story short. Since she was such an elite, she had the right and privilege to sleep with whoever she wished. This was Ayn's conceit in her own eyes. That was her presumption, and she imposed it on her failure of a painter husband, Frank. She made the man a "willing" cockuld to the way-too-young Brandon. He himself supported and built up his wife, spiritually, emotionally, intellectually, and put up with her shit, and he had to roll over in his bed for this useless piece of shit Brandon.
Well, Rand figured it out. Self-esteem guru Brandon. Rand caught him not cheating — she knew well he was married — but something far more unforgivable: cheating with a new woman. "I thought I was the only woman on the side for you."
Recall, Ayn Rand's novels are full of businessmen who have the ethical right to follow their lusts and de-stroy their marriages and wives by using sex as POWER, never tenderness, never child-making. Marriage is sacrifice. It is not for the businessman ubermansh. Marriage is for the weak.
In fact, in her second book, Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand's proxy, Daggney Taggard, favorite of her own daddy, quite literally sleeps her way to the top. Her "plot" is to fall willing prey to greater and greater business predators. Her triumph as a woman is for all the great men to take a turn, and then for the great-est to take full possession. Rand at least has the insight to style herself a male-chauvinist.
Whatever moral value that may have, I will end only with this. Phil Donahue, that yuck-yuck asshole talk show host, had Ayn Rand on camera. He trolled the outspoken atheist: "God bless America. Do you agree?" And she said, in the best sense of the terms and the truest meanings, she agreed. She was old now. Accomplished. She had her cult, the Randroids. They had made the libertarian party. What about her husband, Frank? The failed painter. The alcoholic? He could not accept his wife's arguments that she deserved greater men for lovers. It broke his soul. What happened?
When she caught Brandon messing with a third woman, Rand cursed that man's penis: May you lose your potency, you son of a bitch.
Well, bless the rich, God! Brandon, the self-help bastard, who falsely STOLE his self esteem through sexual theft, Rand would curse his penis. His ego. His pride. Rightfully so. Brandon was a blight and a toady.
Donahue asked about the passing of Frank. Now, Rand hand spoken against self-sacrifice as the greatest evil possible. That is the whole meaning of "the virtue of sacrifice." But when confronted publicly with the name of her late husband, Ayn Rand hand learned the truth when she said, "If all I had to do to return to Frank's embrace again and be with my husband again was to die, I would slit my own throat this very second." Are you so very against self-sacrifice this late in the game, Sister?
Enough said, Ayn Rand. Even fools can be taught.
Her absurdity is not without its charms. Ayn fancied herself to be the greatest philosopher of all time, and her teenage boyfriend Nathanial Brandon? He may be a head above or a head below the second greatest philosopher of all time, Aristotle. Depends on what day you asked her. Really now! Who told you so, Ayn?
Why, Brandon himself. Teenage worship-artist. Later to be THE guru of the self-esteem movement. He read Ayn's paltry Fountainhead a mere seventy-seven times in a row, declared it the greatest book since the bible, or whatever, and idolized her beyond all belief her while yet making her his side bitch to his own wife. He praised Ayn so highly, this ugly Jewish immigrate, just hideous and short social outast, but with SOME conceits to work on. After all, she was a Jew, and it is their religion faith and delusion that Jews are superhuman just because they are Jews. Better than us on pricinple. Believing a thing is so may not always be enough, but it gives you something to work with. I forgive this.
Ayn Rand's birth name is less acclaimable: Alisa Zinov'yevna Rosenbaum. Endured Russia, that eternal shit state in its eternal sate of shit. But had some good memories of her family. Her father always styled his ugly duckling as "Ayn" which rhymes with "mine" and means gold.
She hated Communism and Russia in exactly the degrees and tones Communis and Russia deserve to be hated. Not even overstated. Right on the level. Good job, Rosenbaum.
That the silly kid Brandon warped her mind and sense of self-importance did her some good. It helped her writing. Delusions of grandeur are the first step to grandeur. She could never have become the found-er of the Libertarian party, almost single handedly, if she played modest.
As for her "virtue of selfishness," she manages to demonize Kant to ALL extremes, Jew style, those usu-rious super-geniuses: she praises Aristotle to Heaven and Kant to hell, with this one fine caveat: she never read a word of either. Not one living word. Only the most tertiary of second-rate glosses. She read mere textbooks on the men and fancied herself subtle enough to see to the center. So, she took the impossible position of damning Kant in the most obscene way as the most evil man who ever existed, while seem-ingly innocently picking up his greatest motto, not recognizing the source, and claiming it as her own:
Man should be treated as an end not a means.
Her Virtue of Selfishness depends on her idiosyncratic take and tact of reducing all "sacrifice" to sheer and categorical evil, and the imposture to demand personal sacrifice for the collective as the MOST OB-SCENE EVIL POSSIBLE. Considering the context of her upbringing, and the way Stalin and Hitler were regarded in their time and people as the MOST MORAL people of all time, demanding you sacri-fice EVERYTHING for them, I can see how Rand would want to escape this din.
If I said the Jewish author wrote novels praising businessmen and bankers, whoever was good at making gold, one of the changing his name legally to Midas because he was good at making gold, and called she directly claimed greed a virtue, and praised the almighty dollar, and the author herself wore the American dollar sign as a gold lapel on her jacket as a religious symbol, the world would call me a slanderer, of course, but the most obvious and stupid of slanderers. But I am not slandering. I am describing Ayn and her coterie to a T.
I want to make a long story short. Since she was such an elite, she had the right and privilege to sleep with whoever she wished. This was Ayn's conceit in her own eyes. That was her presumption, and she imposed it on her failure of a painter husband, Frank. She made the man a "willing" cockuld to the way-too-young Brandon. He himself supported and built up his wife, spiritually, emotionally, intellectually, and put up with her shit, and he had to roll over in his bed for this useless piece of shit Brandon.
Well, Rand figured it out. Self-esteem guru Brandon. Rand caught him not cheating — she knew well he was married — but something far more unforgivable: cheating with a new woman. "I thought I was the only woman on the side for you."
Recall, Ayn Rand's novels are full of businessmen who have the ethical right to follow their lusts and de-stroy their marriages and wives by using sex as POWER, never tenderness, never child-making. Marriage is sacrifice. It is not for the businessman ubermansh. Marriage is for the weak.
In fact, in her second book, Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand's proxy, Daggney Taggard, favorite of her own daddy, quite literally sleeps her way to the top. Her "plot" is to fall willing prey to greater and greater business predators. Her triumph as a woman is for all the great men to take a turn, and then for the great-est to take full possession. Rand at least has the insight to style herself a male-chauvinist.
Whatever moral value that may have, I will end only with this. Phil Donahue, that yuck-yuck asshole talk show host, had Ayn Rand on camera. He trolled the outspoken atheist: "God bless America. Do you agree?" And she said, in the best sense of the terms and the truest meanings, she agreed. She was old now. Accomplished. She had her cult, the Randroids. They had made the libertarian party. What about her husband, Frank? The failed painter. The alcoholic? He could not accept his wife's arguments that she deserved greater men for lovers. It broke his soul. What happened?
When she caught Brandon messing with a third woman, Rand cursed that man's penis: May you lose your potency, you son of a bitch.
Well, bless the rich, God! Brandon, the self-help bastard, who falsely STOLE his self esteem through sexual theft, Rand would curse his penis. His ego. His pride. Rightfully so. Brandon was a blight and a toady.
Donahue asked about the passing of Frank. Now, Rand hand spoken against self-sacrifice as the greatest evil possible. That is the whole meaning of "the virtue of sacrifice." But when confronted publicly with the name of her late husband, Ayn Rand hand learned the truth when she said, "If all I had to do to return to Frank's embrace again and be with my husband again was to die, I would slit my own throat this very second." Are you so very against self-sacrifice this late in the game, Sister?
Enough said, Ayn Rand. Even fools can be taught.
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