There are currently 1 user and 15 guests online.
Linz's Mario Book—Updated!
Who Should Be the Republican Nominee?
Total votes: 21
It's a Funny Old Life
Submitted by Lindsay Perigo on Sat, 2013-07-06 12:15
It's a long time since I ruined a dinner party. That's because people who give dinner parties know I ruin them, and don't invite me. Tonight I went to one, to which some ill-advised person had invited me, and duly ruined it. All because, in response to questions, I ventured the opinion that the Kiwi "accent" (read: "disease") is horrible, and makes one sound uneducated and retarded. One of the attendees threatened to break my nose after I suggested he would sound better if he didn't speak through his. There followed several minutes of tumult and shouting as another, more civilised, attendee struggled to usher me away from the venue to safety. It was an unedifying reminder that the biggest sin in this day and age is to uphold standards in any realm, to be serious about "the total passion for the total height" in any manner. It pointed up another reason why Orgoism is useless, eschewing as it does Rand's disparagement of barbarism in aesthetics. It pointed up just why my own disparagement of barbarism touches such a nerve, especially among purported Objectivists. "Freedom" is taken to mean freedom to be a barbarian, especially of the headbanging caterwauling variety (which freedom does indeed subsume, but not as its reason for being or most noble manifestation)—whereas in reality, if barbarism dominates—if the culture is defined by Slayer—freedom cannot last long. Orwell understood this. Rand most assuredly did. I now understand it better than ever, having just been manhandled by a barbarian.
On paper this was, indeed, an educated person, of impeccable pedigree, whose grandfather was a knight of the realm, as he repeatedly, very loudly reminded all of us. Yet all he wanted to do was "deck" me, of which process he began the preliminaries. I'm proud to say I looked him straight in the eye as he clenched his fists, foamed at the mouth and pushed and shoved me, and told him this was no way to conduct an argument.
Earlier, he had asserted that the philosophy that it doesn't matter how you sound, as long as you make yourself understood, is the one the education system should be implementing (as indeed it is). I rest my case against the child-molesters of the mind and for the indispensable role of aesthetics and the upholding of excellence in the battle for freedom. The very vehemence of the vitriol directed against one if one upholds excellence is evidence enough that one is on the money.
More SOLO Store
The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand
Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand