Brian Faulkner

Viaduc de Millau White steel sails beyond the clouds, Straight and perfect, light; Once aimless hills now stand together To bear man's vision bright.

When I first saw this great new creation on TV I thought of sails, of lightness, then of guiltless, free, unburdened happiness. What a beautiful, practical, meaningful achievement!

Check out Ibn Warraq's "Why I Am Not A Muslim". Some good history written by a courageous man.

Well, there's nothing I can reply but some Words for Pictures Joy in work means joy in life, And where none shirk there is no strife. Bear down there, young man; The wheel's in your hand. Steady, set to it; You know you can! Side by side, in perfect pride, The river roars down, The boat puffs up. I know what I know; I see what I see; No socialist government Will ever stop me. Busy, growing, smokey, mighty Pittsburgh, Whose labor have you not lightened? Whose roads and houses not rolled or nailed, hardened, strengthened? What magnificent cities sparkle now because of thee? Busy, growing, smokey, mighty Pittsburgh! "Well, dog, you better run; I'm going to work!"

The material values of a real-world valuer and the spirit (his mind, character, and emotional responses) in which he enjoys them are good (assuming he attained those values honestly). A religious, mystical spirit is not good for anything.

Read the sentence following the one you just quoted.

Capitalism Forever, I use "materialistic" in this context to refer to a concern with and celebration of material goods, as opposed to religious/spiritual concerns. In regard to festive decorations, and the giving of gifts to those you love, this is a secular/spiritual concern, as manifested in the following poem, which I wrote several years ago before I had given thought to changing the name of "Christmas". Even here, by eliminating all religious references, "Christmas", in the last line, has a healthier sense to it. Christmas, Go On! Our bubbling jollity and our keen delight, Our "Golly, everything!" deep in the night; Fast, inquisitive, competent hands, Flying ribbons in flight command! Open the box, there; what've you got? "All that I dreamed of, dreamed a lot! Tickets and maps, yes! Trips over sea! Ah! and for you, dear, a present from me." So grand the shape and so firm each part, I know what it is, it's my new heart! A bold one, a gold one, with a verse inside---- 'May your life be integrity and your mind your pride." It is, it is, and yours is, too. THAT"S why we're living, naught lesser will do! Giving, and taking, glad to have won, Like bankers, like merchants, hey! we have fun! Now put on the coffee and turn on the light; Let's study these maps and set out tonight! Vales little thought of, rocks never touched, Trails just beginning, wonders half-cluthed, Ridges of promise waiting man's right---- Earth all new-fashioned for traders' delight; New dams awaiting, new cities, new farms, Sparkways of business spreading out charms; Thousands of earth-stars---Edison's eyes!--- Set to all angles of wid'ning surprise; Shipyards and airports humming deep strength; Trainways and highways stretching out length; Compelling up downtowns, where Top Competence climbs With Wheeling's dealings and Profit's rhymes (Cling! rings the money; ting!, rings again! Drawn up with trading happy are men); Sky-ledged apartments where piano notes pour My-Life Concerto where two spirits soar. Open the door there; what've we got? A new beginning of another plot. For now Love touches; a kiss.....one........two! Our true destination's a self-made brew. A trip for tomorrow, a sip for today; To have no sorrow we gladly pay. Routing and planning, and shouting, "To be!" Sweet is the music rounding the tree. "Yes!" to life's pleasure, 'specially this_ dawn; Worldly happiness, Christmas, go on!

Right. Also, selfish parents wouldn't have to explain to their puzzled children why an essentially materialistic celebration goes by the name of a scorner of material goods.

If your choice "right now" is to die, then you kill yourself right now. If you choose to "go on a rampage" you are choosing to live and destroy values.

No, but I would certainly change it if it were "Christ"; wouldn't you?

I don't object to Thursday because Thor was not in essence anti-man. With his hammer he broke the ice covering the earth so that plants and crops could grow. If Christmas was called Marxday I would object, and what is the essential difference between Marx and Christ? Or what if it was called Anti-man Day? If Christians can change "Saturnalia" (the old Roman festival) to "Christmas", surely Objectivists can change it to something else. Just think if you're in Galt's gulch discussing this: would John Galt say, "Well, let's leave it at 'Christmas', after all, it's just a name."

Americo, My view of the myth is this: it was a story invented to discourage pride, but in reality if a man humbles himself it's not due to fear of the wrath of gods, but fear of the disapproval of others, even when that disapproval is expressed through an oracle of the gods. If he gives in just a little to this 'public pressure" he will indeed begin to "fall", spiritually. The only solution for him is to reassert his pride to an ever greater degree. Then he---or man, as a whole---will "soar up through the centuries".

Americo, I'm glad you like The Star, and a good perception; you're right, I did not anchor it to reality; that is,not the gold-fringed scene. Icarus was a man in Greek mythology who dared to fly up to the gods' abode. The sun melted the wax which bound his artificial wings to his body, and he fell into the sea. The seldom used term Icarian means presumptuously ambitious. Have you other poems using flight? Here is another. Song of the Airplane With wings of steel o'er the ocean Sailing straight on, I go. A single line of motion Is all I am or know. Strong is the engine inside me, Drives me lightly afar; But stronger the mind that guides me--- O Man, I know what you are. Though day has fallen behind me I'll raise it again, ahead. I take on the night coming to me With never a tremor of dread. With wings of steel o'er the cliffheads, Sailing straight on, I go. A single line of motion Is all I am or know. I see the bright stars-----they are nothing! Inside me are two brighter, far. They see what will be in the future, And nothing, oh nothing, will bar! Dark boulders of mist are now shifting; Some violence here there may be; But their roughness shall buffet vainly This calm pure spirit in me. I climb the wild breast of the tempest; I soar through its madness and roar. The power of joy is inside me; O Pilot, I know what you are. With wings of steel o'er the mountains, Sailing straight on, I go. A single line of motion Is all I am or know. I see the low dawn, it is breaking; My wings it is rushing to see. But Man is the sun in me leading! And I am the triumph of He!

Americonorman, I like your poem about recovered integrity. Here are two poems of mine, somewhat related. Icarus Yes, it's true, he fell. But that he tried-----Nay! Gave his all!----- His new knowledge, His life's strength, His whole will, till----- "Up, Icarus, up!"----- His self-made self-said name On righting wings of pride Soared up through the centuries! Yea! E'en now I hear it, "Up, Icarus, up! ---------------------------------- The Star The things in life you want They say "you can't"; But Me, Myself and I We know I can. We don't give in To scorn, sarcasm, fears, But go right on As one Three Musketeers. Thoughts, Ideas, Dreams, We're everywhere. We spark and flash-----we stream! A joyous Dare! With chin in hand We view the future, far, Then take command To grasp that giant star. I, Me, Myself, Straight on up we go, Courage our real wealth, Smiles all we know. The way is long, Rugged, hard and high, But we---the strong--- All mounting odds defy. It's "Up" against the men Who'd try to chide us down; "Up!" again and again Upon each hoot and frown. They think they're kingly wise Who tell us "don't explore", But their fake real-dom sways While they shake at the door. "You haven't got much chance", They say-----they, who stand and stare, And never walk or dance Alone in open space and air. "And you are selfish, too", They say---they, who never want What they desire all through 'Cause someone else says "can't". But Me, Myself, and I, I want what I do desire; Just like the eagle, high, I am a solo flyer. For me, the tempting new, Rare vision barely seen, Waiting my footsteps true Pressing the gold-fringed scene. There, all calm and still, No sneering winds of "No", I'll sing whate'er I will, The star of my own show. And then that loud live light--- The joy I felt at birth--- Will flood me with such might I'll drink my own self-worth. For what seemed awfully far Was always here, inside---- That strange heroic star, The fearless face of Pride.

Stephen, thanks for the laugh!