I loathe how they’re so willing to lead us down a path of cultural Marxism.

I didn’t mean to present any either/or scenario. Someone can certainly like both.

As far as Atlas Shrugged? Well, I’ve never read the book, but I’d rather dismiss anything that was the product of that woman or her philosophy. Now, someone who enjoyed reading Erik von Kuenhelt-Liddihn’s “Menace of the Herd” or a Vernor Vinge novel? That’s a true winner. [Why either/or? Why not both?–IM]

Confession: started Atlas Shrugged and never finished. Seemed like another version of The Fountainhead. Strong characters butting heads with sniveling bleeding-heart wusses. The one character who had been a briliant student before losing heart (you know, the guy who was ruining Rearden Metal and the RR from behind the scenes) was interesting, but I just couldn’t maintain interest, in spite of the fact that it’s supposedly Rand’s master work.

I am preparing to duck now. [Not at all; I also loved the Fountainhead.]

The Mrs. and I own 2 Toyota Corollas, not because we’re particularly concerned about gas mileage, but because they’re relatively inexpensive, reliable cars.

Any woman who wanted to dictate what I can do with my time was out the door at the get-go. Thank God I got a good one. I’m a lucky man.

“Ron Paul, a good man, the good choice.”

“When in doubt, vote them out”

I guess it depends on the message, n’est pas?

Tanning booth tans, along with the above, demonstrate where priorities lie and indicate willingness to devote considerable time and money to vanity. These women are out to impress each other.

Tramp stamps that look like Chrysler hood ornaments for Harley Davidson
across the small of the back make me wonder about the circumstances under which one would be admiring them; for me, they spoil the view. These women are trying to attract men that will treat them mean.

American Idol I can forgive (it’s music and some talent might show up); but Dancing With The Stars, Oprah and the like, or any soap opera reflect a value system that is alien to me and forever beyond my comprehension. One other thing I have discovered is that I am not compatible with women who hate or don’t understand the Three Stooges, Monty Python, or Red Green.

While having lunch at a local pub one day, I overhead a pair of vain women with tats, booth tans, and two inch nails agreeing with each other that the first thing they look at is a man’s shoes. They pass him by if he isn’t wearing expensive, new shoes. Looking down at my comfortable work shoes, gouged and worn, but insulated, waterproof, and electrically insulated with steel toes, I had to agree.

On the other hand, my life is ample demonstration that I am not an expert.