Alarming News: I like Morgan Freeberg. A lot.
American Digest: And I like this from "The Blog That Nobody Reads", because it is -- mostly -- about me. What can I say? I'm on an ego trip today. It won't last.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: We were following a trackback and thinking "hmmm... this is a bloody excellent post!", and then we realized that it was just part III of, well, three...Damn. I wish I'd written those.
Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler: ...I just remembered that I found a new blog a short while ago, House of Eratosthenes, that I really like. I like his common sense approach and his curiosity when it comes to why people believe what they believe rather than just what they believe.
Brutally Honest: Morgan Freeberg is brilliant.
Dr. Melissa Clouthier: Morgan Freeberg at House of Eratosthenes (pftthats a mouthful) honors big boned women in skimpy clothing. The picture there is priceless--keep scrolling down.
Exile in Portales: Via Gerard: Morgan Freeberg, a guy with a lot to say. And he speaks The Truth...and it's fascinating stuff. Worth a read, or three. Or six.
Just Muttering: Two nice pieces at House of Eratosthenes, one about a perhaps unintended effect of the Enron mess, and one on the Gore-y environ-movie.
Mein Blogovault: Make "the Blog that No One Reads" one of your daily reads.
The Virginian: I know this post will offend some people, but the author makes some good points.
Poetic Justice: Cletus! Ah gots a laiv one fer yew...
Atlas Shrugged, pp. 915-16:
“It’s a national catastrophe! What’s the matter with you? Don’t you see that it’s a fatal blow? It will break the last of the country’s morale and economy! We can’t let him vanish! You’ve got to bring him back!”
Her smile disappeared.
“You can!” he cried. “You’re the only one who can! He’s your lover, isn’t he? …Oh, don’t look like that! It’s no time for squeamishness! It’s no time for anything except that we’ve got to have him! You must know where he is! You can find him! You must reach him and bring him back!”
The way she now looked at him was worse than her smile — she looked as if she were seeing him naked and would not endure the sight much longer. “I can’t bring him back,” she said, not raising her voice. “And I wouldn’t, if I could. Now get out of here.”
“But the national catastrophe–”
“Get out.”
The hysterical must-must-must guy is James Taggart, leader of The Looters…they’d be the equivalent of those clowns who set up this GSE-backing-subprime-garbage ponzi scheme in the first place. The shell game has fallen apart, and they want to set up the next shell game, using their hysteria as a weapon without even consciously realizing they’re doing it, to keep anyone from seriously inspecting what’s going on and how we got here.
The person to whom he is unsuccessfully making his pitch, is his sister Dagny. Now nine hundred pages into finding out what’s happening to the world, and having figured it out, watching the entire time as one Looter plan after another is put in place like patchwork gradually replacing entirely a deteriorating quilt. As you can see from the dialog, she has had quite enough. So you could think of her as a metaphor for the American voter.
The guy whom they’re discussing, is the latest Atlas. He held the world aloft on his shoulders, and his shoulders alone, and so he shrugged. Who that is, would be a spoiler. Where he went, would be an even bigger spoiler. Go buy the damn book.
If you’ve not read it already, now would be an exceptionally good time. Buy it and read it while you still can.
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