My moral fiber and ethical egoism inform my political leanings. And normally I don’t like to give chicks positive attention, but Ayn Rand can totally get it.
I mean, obviously I love chicks that look like my mom, who doesn’t? She’s arguably the hottest Russian Jew since Boris Verlinsky. But it’s her views on objectivism that make her objectively bangable.
Ayn Rand believes that the only way to thrive is to focus on one’s own best interests, because, after all, everyone is only looking out for themselves. What a fucking breath of fresh air. Most chicks get pissed at me when they finally figure out that’s what I’m doing. Even my hot Mom’s all like, “You’ve gotta take your little brother to school, I have to work third shift or I’ll get fired,” when she knows that I have a Hearthstone tournament.
She doesn’t believe that native people have a claim to their own land. How fucking sexy is that?
So Ayn, if you’re reading this, please text me on this phone that I stole. We have so much in common. You take amphetamines to combat fatigue, I snort crank and threaten female comedians with sexual violence on Twitter. We’re both committed to our crafts.
Let’s do this, Ayn. We can go from Atlas Shrugged to Fountainhead real quick. I’m just like Howard Roark. He’s an architect and that’s exactly what it says my occupation is on Facebook. You believe in a fully free society and writing this has made me fully, freely erect.
I’ve just learned that Ayn Rand has been dead since 1982. I’m gonna need more speed. You know what? Fuck it, she can still get it. If anything, now she looks more like Mom. Banging her corpse is me pursuing my own self-interests, and she’d be stoked. Just like that lady in the beginning of The Fountainhead. Dead Ayn Rand can get it.