The first twelve steps are the steepest
Interesting - I see a number of online support groups for, inter alia, ex-libertarians ... former sufferers from Rand rage who, though subjected to successful extra-sphincterine cranial extractions, still apparently suffer traumatic Atlas shudders and occasional bouts of throbbing Fountain Head ... Libertarian Party goers for whom the effervescent two-hour buzz of decoder-ringed, propeller-beanied induction into the self-anointed and self-fellating vanguard of world history wasn't worth the skull-smashing hangover in either throbbing head the next ten thousand mornings after ... and onetime praxeological spoonbenders happy to give up for good their powers of telekimises and poetic table-rapping weegee-bored channelings of the afterlife roth bard once the irrational psychic malinvestments of their youthful exuberance went bust: apparently - who knew? - central planning by one thinker or sect is as gawd-awful in its murder-by-degrees of the individual mind as it is when enacted over the whole of the political economy.
I wish all such recovering crack whores of the cracked skull only the best, though as the most pre-hedged among investors I've never counted myself among their number - I was already, at fifteen, the total fucking prick I remain today, and on general issue: it didn't take any beside-the-point flash of the lightning of teenaged conversion to one or another variant of brummagem geek-revenge therapy disguised as the precious world-saving Underdog-elixir of "freedom" to throw that most cardinal among my congenital facts into sharp relief for all time, though to the extent, I gather, it helped that process along in several hundred thousand of the third string among our more humbly-endowed of countrymen, we may count it in all such cases not so much a side-effect as a dividend, and, for those of us smiling amid their yapping from the other side of the pet-shop window, an indispensable screening device as we moonwalk suavely backward unto our previous engagements back on planet earth.
I wish all such recovering crack whores of the cracked skull only the best, though as the most pre-hedged among investors I've never counted myself among their number - I was already, at fifteen, the total fucking prick I remain today, and on general issue: it didn't take any beside-the-point flash of the lightning of teenaged conversion to one or another variant of brummagem geek-revenge therapy disguised as the precious world-saving Underdog-elixir of "freedom" to throw that most cardinal among my congenital facts into sharp relief for all time, though to the extent, I gather, it helped that process along in several hundred thousand of the third string among our more humbly-endowed of countrymen, we may count it in all such cases not so much a side-effect as a dividend, and, for those of us smiling amid their yapping from the other side of the pet-shop window, an indispensable screening device as we moonwalk suavely backward unto our previous engagements back on planet earth.
Comments
Post a Comment