Will Wilkinson, channeling yerz trooly, directs my attention to an hilarious eruption of righteous . . . blawging. In general I think it safe to say that people who display no outward indications of appreciating the distinction between business income, profit, salary, and taxable income are not, whatever their claims to the contrary, occupying the lofty brackets that Obama proposes we liquidate or nationalize or blast into space or whatever as we make the final transformation into the People's Republic. Quoted therein:
“We have to find a way out where we can make just what we need to just under the line so we can benefit from Obama’s tax plan,” she added. “Why kill yourself working if you’re going to give it all away to people who aren’t working as hard?”There is, I admit, a certain demented logic entailed in plotting to join the impecunious masses seeking to soak the rich so as to benefit from their Bolshevism. It's like Lenin said, you find the person who will, uh, you know what I'm trying to say.
On a more Weberian note, it appears that the Protestant Work Ethic is in immoderate decline among the double-ply bourgeoisie of this great nation. Yeah, why kill yourself working? I'm a fan of permanent disability myself, methodologically, even if the paperwork's a bitch. Let me state straight up that I do not believe these people actually exist, but if they did, they'd be a credit to morons everywhere.
Wilkinson accurately outlines the flaws in the Galt comparison based on his having, evidently, actually read the book. Would it be impolite of me to note that in addition to lacking a certain fidelity to the text-as-written, these people are making a handbook out of a work of turgid speculative fiction in which the oft-repeated symbolic trope, its rosy-fingered dawn, its wine-dark sea, is the lit cigarette--yes, man's mastery of fire as represented by a carcinogenic drug that doesn't even get you high. It also has holograph projectors and sound weapons and I am reasonably certain I saw Doc Seldon lurking around one of the party scenes at Hank Reardon's house, trying to sell his lush of a wife on a new-age religion called psychohistory. Ayn Rand wrote an entire book about railroads without once mentioning The Pacific Railway Act, whereby the eeeevil government gave railroad companies millions and millions of acres of land. Trying to construct a coherent personal economic ideology out of a Rand novel is as realistic, likely, and sane as trying to set up a street gang using The Outsiders as your manual.