Neanderpundit

Mark Twain, who famously (Read his biography) had issues figuring out how windows worked in relation to his household alarm system, was demonstrably not a technical man. And yet, he understands what technical men are like, for he is, during his life, surrounded by them. An excerpt from “Yankee”

“I am an American. I was born and reared in Hartford, in the State of Connecticut — anyway, just over the river, in the country. So I am a Yankee of the Yankees — and practical; yes, and nearly barren of sentiment, I suppose — or poetry, in other words. My father was a blacksmith, my uncle was a horse doctor, and I was both, along at first. Then I went over to the great arms factory and learned my real trade; learned all there was to it; learned to make everything: guns, revolvers, cannon, boilers, engines, all sorts of labor-saving machinery. Why, I could make anything a body wanted — anything in the world, it didn’t make any difference what; and if there wasn’t any quick new-fangled way to make a thing, I could invent one — and do it as easy as rolling off a log. I became head superintendent; had a couple of thousand men under me.”

That is the type of man John Galt is designed to resemble, writ somewhat larger, perhaps, but with the same ink.

Hank goes on later to discuss his “new” position.

“I was just as much at home in that century as I could have been in any other; and as for preference, I wouldn’t have traded it for the twentieth. Look at the opportunities here for a man of knowledge, brains, pluck, and enterprise to sail in and grow up with the country. The grandest field that ever was; and all my own; not a competitor; not a man who wasn’t a baby to me in acquirements and capacities; whereas, what would I amount to in the twentieth century? I should be foreman of a factory, that is about all; and could drag a seine down street any day and catch a hundred better men than myself.”

This is a world where one could “Go Galt” because Hank was the ONLY one of his kind. Unfortunately, he went about making himself obsolete by training others to be him. And some petty witchery gets to him, in the end.

Also unfortunately, this is a fantasy, just like Shrugged is a fantasy; Twain being Twain, at least his fantasy is compelling and entertaining, and was never meant to be anything but that. The sheer volume of Rand acolytes whose feathers get horribly ruffled if you suggest her vision was not superhuman is amazing to me; as Tam says, it’s a novel, a fictional one. The caliber of people who read that novel and latch onto it’s wierdness is identical to the caliber of people who watch Farenheit 911 and think it’s the Word of God.

Was, once upon a time, a communist.

He came to his senses and denounced his communist leanings, but the point is, he has had a solid understanding of both sides of the fence.

I have, in my own life, been a witness to a great many things. I have never closed my eyes, no matter how disturbing those things are.

Whittaker had the experience to understand the horror of communism, and came to his senses. Very, very few Ayn Rand dittoheads have had this experience- and it’s one of the reasons why I chose to read the reviewWhittaker wrote and Bill Buckley published about Atlas Shrugged, way back in 1957. Whatever you think about any of the players, you should read that review.

The left demonizes Rand- Ms X points out that the Huff Po is all verklemmt about the movie. They are concerned that people will be convinced conservatism is good by the comical caricatures in the film. Well, if they are, that’s fine, but frankly, anyone that can read or watch that drivel and be swayed by the paper thin one dimensional ‘good guys’ and “bad guys” is an idiot.

Look, people: This is not life. Atlas Shrugged cannot happen, and it would be stupid if it did, and having sweaty little mom’s basement fantasies of ‘Going Galt” is, frankly, below all of you that I know. I hope the hell you realize this before it’s too damned late.

You have the tools you need to change this world, between your ears. Forget what Rand said and did, and figure it out on your own.

And there are a few who love one another pretty well.

Once in a while you stumble across a couple so batshit crazy about one another that it seems like they have some type of disease.

The Ogwife and I are like that. We met while I was on a job in the northern wastes, and began a whirlwind long distance relationship that went on for some time before she agreed to be my wife.

Our love for one another burned brightly, and the amount of time we spent together was small. I would leave work on a friday afternoon, and drive like a banshee to get to north central Ontario, to visit with my lady. Then we’d disapear into a hotel room, or into lake Huron, or whatever, we’d just drop off the surface of the planet for a while.

It wasn’t all gymnasitcs either, though there were times when I feared I’d be too bruised and bleeding to drive home safely I never stranded myself. Usually sunday afternoon I gave her one last long roadside kiss goodnight and screamed 700 miles home, arriving just in time to change clothes and go to work. An awful lot of the time it was just being together, sitting over boxes of chinese takeout from The Ritz Cafe. We didn’t so much have a romance, as when we were together, we acheved critical mass.One time we walked up the falls area and saw the chinook spawning, and I saw the big fish cooling their heels, so to speak, in the fish ladder. I looked in their eyes. They understood me, I understood them.

We spent several years together before we were married, and another after we married before we became parents. During that time, we did what we could to ignite our own nuclear fire, and looking back on the incandescent glow of the relationship still warms me, after all these years.

We’re an old married couple now. We have issues sleeping away from one another, and the moment we go to sleep together is the very best part of the day, the second being the moment we wake up together.

Sure, the flame is still there, the inferno that once consumed us and lit our lives like a Texas A&M bonfire is now banked, glowing coals that keep us warm. Once in a while we throw a log on the fire and let it burn brightly as before, at least until my knees give out. We remember what it was like to be in such love that other people noticed just when we were together.

Happy valentine’s day, Love of my Life.