Egoism
Individualism
Sovereignty
Splendor

(These ideas are explicated in this sloppy manifesto)

Tuesday, January 28, 2003
 
Make National Socialism work and win $10,000!

O'Connor Health Care Communications, a PR firm niche-marketed to the health insurance industry, asks Who is John Galt? Specifically, they want someone to tell them how to make our idiotic National Socialist health care system work:
The O'Connor Report is sponsoring a national contest to generate new ideas about healthcare reform.

We don't have a health care system. We have a business-to-business enterprise. We think our "system" is a mess and is in an irreparable crisis. Something must be done, so we are putting our money where our mouth is.

We are posting a $10,000 cash prize for first prize.
Naturally, the free market is not the solution to be sought. There is no place in a free market for something called O'Connor Health Care Communications. Interestingly, the company's logo is a medical cross disintegrating down and to the left. Who says they don't know what they're doing?


 
SplendorQuest: "The Old Apartment"

This song begins with a lie, so we might as well get it out of the way. The song is "The Old Apartment," written by Steven Page and Ed Robertson and performed by Barenaked Ladies. In the liner notes for Disc One: 1991-2002, Larry LeBlanc, Canadian editor of Billboard, tells the band's lie:
"The Old Apartment" has a deceptively angry story line, tricking people into thinking some guy is breaking into his old girlfriend's apartment. In fact, it's about a couple revisiting their old apartment, and how painful it is to see how things have changed.
As we'll see, this is not true.

I think this a great song, a great piece of literary art. The truth of the song is so much more powerful than the lie that it is a double-atrocity to try to disguise it. Hear it if you can, but hear the words by reading them:
Broke into the old apartment
This is where we used to live
Broken glass, broke and hungry
Broken hearts and broken bones
This is where we used to live

Why did you paint the walls?
Why did you clean the floor?
Why did you plaster over
The hole I punched in the door?

This is where we used to live

Why did you keep the mousetrap?
Why did you keep the dishrack?
These things used to be mine
I guess they still are
I want 'em back

Broke into the old apartment
Forty-two stairs from the street
Crooked landing, crooked landlord
Narrow laneway filled with crooks
This is where we used to live

Why did they pave the lawn?
Why did they change the locks?
Why did I have to break in?
I only came here to talk

This is where we used to live

How is the neighbour downstairs?
How is her temper this year?
I turned up your TV
And stomped on the floor just for fun


I know we don't live here anymore
We bought an old house on the Danforth
She loves me and her body keeps me warm
I'm happy there
But this is where we used to live

Broke into the old apartment
Tore the phone out of the wall
Only memories, fading memories
Blending into dull tableaux
I want them back

I want them back
But this is where we used to live
I want them back
This is where we used to live
I want them back
But this is where we used to live
I want them back...
The underscoring is deliberate. These are the lines that put the lie to LeBlanc's lie. Nobody is 'tricked'. This song is about some guy "breaking into his old girlfriend's apartment." More properly, it's about a guy who, having beat up on his girlfriend until she finally got rid of him, can't let go of the love he ruined, even though he has learned nothing from the experience. You get to see inside his mind: "Why did I have to break in? I only came here to talk." It's the story of a wife-beater told from the wife-beater's point of view, which I don't think anyone else has ever done.

The underscored lines show us that the protagonist was and still is a violent jerk. The events put him in the apartment alone; no girlfriend, old or new, is going to do nothing as he breaks into a home, stomps on the floor, and tears the phone out of the wall. And when he refers to his new girlfriend in the third person, he tells us that she is not present, and that she is not the person addressed by the lyrics.

All that is fine with me. If we accept LeBlanc's lie, the song makes no sense. But if we accept instead the obvious truth of the lyrics, then this is a fully-realized exploration of real life. This is everything that Cut, discussed below, is not: It's a heartbreakingly true story about the way real people really behave, and it is told in action, not dialogue.

The story is squalid, but the splendor is in the storytelling, which is masterful.


 
What is the sound of Atlas shrugging?

From The Washington Times:
More than 800 doctors in Florida, and a dozen more in Mississippi, stayed off the job yesterday to protest rising malpractice-insurance costs.
I'm working right now with a doctor from California who is training to be an airline pilot. Who knows how many would-have-been doctors have been scared away from the profession by Hillarycare and other abominations. Becoming pregnant is by now a very poor idea in many states.

Me, years ago: "This is the stark relief of art, and the drama of it is compellling. Art is not better than real life, art is simply real life accelerated and stripped bare so that we can understand it in a glance. But here is real life accelerated and stripped bare, clear for all to see." Ayn Rand saw it all comming half a century ago. We can't say we weren't warned...


 
Cain's world: SOTU in situ...

He won't do it, but Bush should use the State of the Union speech to announce that the War on Islam has by that time commenced. He'll do the ordinary thing, which will invite the ordinary rejoinders. Too bad. Tonight is probably his best opportunity.


Monday, January 27, 2003
 
SplendorQuest: introspectroanalysis

i took myself to the vet at the zoo
to measure my animal heat for you
he sounded my skull with a rap on my head
and said I might need psychiatry instead
the shrink had no patience for gross physiology
the shrink had no practical use for ontology
he said 'i ponder imponderables both little and small
i measure immeasurables that aren't there at all
if it's fever or burning or a chilling condition
get out of my office go see a physician!'
the doctor was kind for a man in a hurry
i told him about you but he said 'not to worry!
you think you're the first guy with this problem i bet
take this prescription you coulda got from the vet'
i said 'doc forgive me the thing is i'm not ill
it's my thoughts it's my passions my pastimes my will
that woman possesses me with love soft and sweet
from the ends of my hairs to the soles of my feet
i sleep her i dream her i wake her and then
she captures my soul for the whole day again
i seek no escape no! i am her belonging
i just want to know is this love or mere longing?'
he started to speak then he paused then reflected
he said 'on its face this is oddly complected
here's my son-in-law's card what an ass what a jerk
he's mostly no help but he sure needs the work'
the son-in-law worked from a dingy apartment
the off-off-off-off-campus physics department
he called me an idiot he called me a dope
then he took me to task with a spectroscope
but the answer he found was an answer divine
not love dear not lust but the two locked in twine
      for he saw my passion burning bright
      at every wavelength of heaven's light





SplendorQuests