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American "culture" abounds with false idols and super heroes (Hollywood can't seem to stop producing the garbage). All of which reinforce the ridiculous and extremely dangerous notion of exceptionalism. All of which emphasize the imbecilic notion that the individual is capable of more and better results than the collective. All of which try to convince people that some Randian superman is going to "Make America Great Again". I find it fitting that Trump has come to represent the modern-day Galt: a pathological liar, weak, stupid, incapable of lifting a pen let alone a brick, disgusting both physically, emotionally and spiritually. The buffoon he always was, in fact. The antithesis, if ever there was, of the concept of greatness. This is what centuries of shallow comic book culture hath wrought.
Thank goodness for Jazz.
Last edited by Ezekiel; 08/13/1611:28 AM.
"The liberals can understand everything but people who don't understand them." Lenny Bruce
"The cleverest of all, in my opinion, is the man who calls himself a fool at least once a month." Dostoevsky
This one's for you, G-man. Arthur was my brother (not by blood but he was raised by my Dad in our home in Brooklyn). He was one of the greatest musicians I've ever met, and I have met a few in my day. He died of AIDS in 1989. I lost a brother but the world lost a musical genius. Here he is on sax.
Last edited by Ezekiel; 08/13/1607:18 PM.
"The liberals can understand everything but people who don't understand them." Lenny Bruce
"The cleverest of all, in my opinion, is the man who calls himself a fool at least once a month." Dostoevsky
I wonder if anybody has audited the Trump campaign. My suspicion is that he has been looting his own campaign by charging big bucks for EVERYTHING, his housing, his food, his plane, his children, his wife, EVERYTHING!
I had been at Trump magazine for only four months when my first paycheck bounced. We’d heard rumors of the company’s financial troubles, but I had no idea how bad it really was until my landlord called me one afternoon to tell me that my rent check hadn’t cleared. I logged into my online banking account and saw, to my amazement, that the magazine I worked for—the one with the billionaire’s name on the cover—had stiffed me. Although it was a stressful moment, the irony was not lost on me. It felt like I was living in an Onion article: “Luxury Lifestyle Magazine Can’t Pay Its Own Employees.”