Ayn Rand, �Atlas Shrugged�
�Yes, at first I was happy to be learning how to read. It seemed exciting and magical. But then, I read this: Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand. I read every last word of this garbage, and because of this piece of shit, I�m never reading again!�
-Officer Barbrady, South Park (�The Chicken Lover� episode)
---
This book weighs five pounds.
I�m not kidding. I just finished it and threw it on the bathroom scale. Five fucking pounds! I now have better posture, only because I�ve been lugging this around in my backpack for the past two weeks and it pulled my knuckles away from the ground.
This is one of those �Gee, I�ve heard so much about this book but I never got around to reading it myself� things. The reason for that is pretty simple — the book weighs five goddamn pounds! Who in their right mind wants to read something that weighs five pounds? It�s bigger than both bibles put together and almost as preachy!
To scale this novel down to the bare bones (so I can avoid writing something nearly as long as the book itself), The big shot moneymakers and controllers of industry get tired of an intrusive and bumbling bureaucracy trying to control their profits, and ultimately decide to say nertz to the public and the government and secede from the Union. All hell breaks loose.
For the next 800 pages.
In a book that weighs five pounds. The spine of this book is almost as big as my fist.
Seems like something you could say in, oh, 300 pages, yeah? After complaining about Hemingway rambling on forever, you think that this would be an easy target. But as I was going through it I couldn�t think of any part that was unnecessary. Even when the �leader� of the industrialists takes over the radio waves to explain the reasons behind their actions � in a speech that lasts 61 pages � it was necessary. And it was good.
And the book weighs five freakin� pounds.
As monstrously huge as this was, I can�t believe that it was pretty damn good. Let me put it this way. Never in my life would I think that I could be sympathetic to a bunch of rich barons. That the sign of some good writing. I just wish there wasn�t so much of it.
Oh, and before I forget. The running comment in the book revolves around a slogan that is repeated whenever somebody asks a question that has no possible answer, such as �What are we going to do?� �Who will help us?� �Why does Fern stick all those things up her butt?� �Why do they call it shipping when it goes by car and cargo when it goes by ship?� �Where did all these monkeys come from, and why are they in my bed?� �Why in the name of holy hell would anybody write a book that weighs five pounds?�
The answer offered to all of these questions is the 1950s version of your parents saying �Because I said so, that�s why.� Only here they say, �Who is John Galt?�
Well, I have an answer for that. I am John Galt, motherfucker. Now get these monkeys out of my freakin� bed.
