B. Royce
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Posts posted by B. Royce
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Here are a few more ideas for signs.
You Raised Our Tax
You Broke Our Backs
You Get The Sacks!
Bailing Out Failure
By Taxing Success
Aborts The Savior
Of Happiness.
Drink and Drive;
or Think and Keep Alive.
Shirk, Whine and Lose,
or Work Hard and Cruise.
I Am Right To Love My life;
Are You A Right One Too?
If You Lead,
Who Will You Follow?
No More Time
In Self-pity To Wallow.
You Are An Individual,
You Are Reading This.
Love Your Effort,
Love Your Focus,
Love You Mind.
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You and khaight are on the same track and I agree. Check my answer to him and see what you think. I looked at what I wrote and cut it down to five statements, each less than a line long. There might be one or two more needed to cover salient points of Objectivism.
I like some of your ideas for bumper stickers. A variety of approaches makes an effective campaign. Bumper stickers and tee shirts are most effective when they have an edge to them. They invite more commentary that way.
Let's keep up this exchange of ideas. Somewhere in the Forum I would still like to see a place where we can park our cards and tracts, etc, so anyone who wants them can download them and print them out. ES
I think Kaight is right about a focus on reason, but I wouldn't exclude more emotional means. Variety can be very effective and, as not everyone is at the same level of development, what may not strike a chord with one person may with another. I know that when I was younger and was writing letters to the editor I would sometiimes not send one in because I thought it was _not the perfect way_ to present Objectivism. But that kind of self-regulation can kill one's enthusiasm and inhibit creative thinking. The thing is--to fight for your values the best you can whenever you can, not to wait for the moment when you've got it all right.
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A few more.
Evil Is Initiation Of Force
Honesty Is Work
Work Is Honesty
Taxes Are?
Life:
Don't Give It Away;
Don't Give It Up;
Don't Give.
Live
Thinkers Think And Do;
Wishers Screw you.
Bailing Failure
Drowns Success
Bail A Fool's Children
And Drown Your Own
Fascizing The Banks?
Fascizing America?
Nationalizing Fascist Bastards.
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Or, to make a great bumper sticker:
Individual rights? Yes. Group rights? No!
No one has the right to take your money from you.
Government, get back! Get Back! Get Back!
or,
My life is mine, not yours, brother!
or,
No one has the right to make you give or do.
Trade is the only moral action to pursue.
Government must leave your living up to you.
or,
My right to my life---Yo!
My right to my property---Yo!
Those who would take it are evil---So!
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[
I appreciate your interpreting my interest as the fervor of discovery. It is more the fervor of rekindled interest. I have considered myself an Objectivist for quite a few years now. It is precisely the lack of movement over the years in making Objectivism something more than an intellectual curiosity that spurs me to stir up some dialogue, and perhaps some action.
I think my analogy of Ten Commandments was misplaced. Perhaps something more akin to a creed is what I had in mind. Miss Rand managed to get the essence of it into four letters. Of course it took several thousands of pages to explain the significance of those four letters.
In attempting to explain Objectivism to friends, I wrote a short credo I entitled I BELIEVE. It distills what I think to be the essence of Objectivism into a handful of simple statements. I had intended to post it at some point because I am certain that it is incomplete and needs some salient points added. Please make a suggestion if you see something missing. Here's what I have so far:
________________________________________________
I BELIEVE
The rights of the individual are paramount above all others.
Man has the inalienable right to his life.
As a natural extension of that right, he has the right to that part of his life spent in productive work and the right to own the property he may have accrued by that work.
No man has a claim on the life of another man.
Therefore, any transactions among men must be voluntary.
Governments are institutions set up by men to protect their rights. In the interest of civil order, men convey to the government the authority to use force in defense of the rights of individuals.
- Military forces defend these rights from other countries.
- Police forces defend these rights from other individuals within the country.
- Courts defend these rights and adjudicate breaches of contracts and disagreements between individuals.
Men cannot convey to their government authority they themselves do not possess.
(Ladies, please forgive the chauvinism. The above was written for a male audience. It, of course, can be changed.)
_______________________________________________________________________
Something on the order of this is what I have in mind for a business card-sized summary and a small tract that gives the basics of Objectivism. There is very little, if anything, that someone would disagree with in the above statements. This is what I mean by emphasizing the positive.
I agree with your assertion to let Objectivism sell itself to a point. Once someone has had their curiosity piqued, Objectivism has a powerful message. However, my point is still valid; there simply isn't enough effort being made to offer Objectivism as an alternative guide for living one's life.
I think now is a good time to be more assertive. Most rational people (as well as Conservatives. The two aren't necessarily inclusive or exclusive) are appalled at the rapid turn toward Socialism at the end of the Bush administration and the beginning of the Obama one. Christian churches are drifting away from sectarian dogma to a more secular view.
I'm not suggesting we go door to door with a version of Watchtower. But, to expand on some of the suggestions I made in the original post.
1. We can expand on the little credo I started to include the basic tenets of Objectivism stated as simply as possible. If they can fit on a business card, all the better. They can be handed out to anyone who shows an interest, with the link to this site and any others that might interest them.
2. Here on this site, we can design a three-fold tract that state the basics of Objectivism, gives some salient quotes from Any Rand, gives links to websites, and recommends books. Such a tract is basically two typewritten pages written in three columns in the landscape format. Any one of us can print 30 copies of page one, turn the paper over and print 30 copies of page two and spend a few minutes folding them. Voila!! Thirty tracts to leave in a rack in the student union, on a table in the doctor's office, wherever. Or, let Kinko do it.
I know there are better ideas than these, but it's late here and I'm tired. Manana, Amigos , ES
Ed, you might cut down the verbiage of I Believe to:
Individual rights? Yes. Group rights? No.
A man's right to his life---so!
His right to his property---so!
Those who would take it are evil---true!
No one has a right of power over other men---true!
No one has the right to make you act or do.
Trade is the only moral transaction to pursue.
Government must leave your living up to you.
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Very High Midas Day
Oh, Very High Midas Day,
Now you are here,
Clothed in prosperity,
Best of the year.
Armfuls of laughter,
Lipfuls of light,
Eyes in affirmance
Of everything bright.
Ribbons are spreading and
Trees are a-glow;
Splendid the setting
Of Midas-Time show.
Down every avenue
Silver bells chime,
While choirs of drink-songs
Clink them in time.
Dollar-signs stand on
Rooftops for glee---
Red, green and gold ones,
And many swing free!
And Santas are shooting
From chimney to chim
(Helpers called Backpack,
Vigor and Vim).
Here, a piano
Rolls to a door;
There, a mink stole
Lets hands go explore.
Here, a convertabile,
Flashy and fast,
While lust-dust of diamonds
Everywhere's cast.
Peacefully beautiful,
Wholesome and rare,
Very High Midas Day
Men made you fair.
Happy and satisfied,
Filled to the top,
All you could ever be
Never will stop.
Oh, all over town
There's a soft glowing fire
Of joys made real
For human desire.
Oh Very High Midas Day,
Face of our worth---
Proud of Prosperity,
Merchants of earth!
___________________________
Brian Faulkner
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Whatever happened to Festivus for the rest of us?
I like Midas Day. Merry Midas, everyone!
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From the Objectivist stand point what is the point of living? I mean if we are here accidently why pursue something that has the chance of ending up in misery? Did Ayn Rand die happy after the death of her husband?
A certain kind of life (of your own choosing) can be a point----but only if you are alive. What would be the point of being dead? To whom? No one is there.
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Born Again
O Happy Town, that leaps to life again,
With cars and trucks and people on the go,
You have no need of base complaining men
Who hold your triumph but a hollow show.
Nay, vile they say it is, your tow'ring course,
And must be stricken down for wolves and bears,
And mindless acts of Mother Nature's force;
Yea, mindless---bent design of all their prayers.
Run forward, leap, and higher, stronger, grow;
Exult with pride that you're the best on earth!
Roar out your motors, sing along each street,
Disdain the pits that dare to pull you low
And climb above the clouds with all your worth.
The weekend's past and 'born again" is sweet!
___________________________________________
Brian Faulkner
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When All Seems Hopeless
When all seems hopeless as a down-set sun
And future days are grey with shadow-mites
Of some bad man our President become;
While many countrymen are blind to see
How they are lead away from human heights
Down into foreasts dark with savages
Who scream with glee the rights of savages
To scream, but not live, and men not be;
When this seems overwhelming in my mind
I turn about and take your book in hand,
Then turn the pages till man's hope I find.
It is not made of feathers or of sand,
But truth's hard-builded walls that bind---
The vallied vault of the golden Rand.
________________________________________
Brian Faulkner
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It's Nice To Be Here
Here, above the land, I take your hand;
Here, where all is open, lit with sun,
Upon a peak of rock we looking stand.
Together we have climbed and reached and won,
And now the earth rolls outward from our feet,
Or does it gather up to us, complete?
Your hands are scraped and scratched like mine;
Your cheeks are very roughly brushed up too,
Yet you are more than beautiful to see
And all the hills about must climb to you.
"It's nice to be here" are the words divine,
And I am here with you, and you with me,
Where far-off mountains gleam and shine
And twitterings of birds sail out so free,
While on a peak of rock we looking stand.
_________________________________________
Brian Faulkner
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O Holy Pig
I went to Hell
And felt the flames
Of all those whirling,
Swirling dames.
I played at cards
And threw the dice---
No more snake eyes,
That was nice.
I filled my belly
Full with meat,
Ate every cake
And every sweet,
But when I slaked
My last desire,
The Devil threw me
In the fire.
"Ouch!" I cried,
And "Oh, it's hot!
Why must i
Be in this pot?"
"Do be still,"
The Devil said,
"You've had your fun
And you're well-fed.
"God needs smell
Your sacrifice,
Smell it once
And smell it twice.
"He must thrill
To hear you cry
When you ever
Almost die.
"Die, or fry,
He cannot tell;
Only loves
To smell the smell.
"Piggy He,
And piggy blind;
Gluttony
Is God designed.
"That is why
Your fall is sweet---
Kicked to Hell
By God's pig feet."
"Ouch!" I cried,
And "Oh, the pain!
Who can save me
From the slain?"
Jesus came,
Filled with teeth,
Sharpened them
On my belief;
Ate me whole,
Devoured all;
All my bits
Too small to fall.
Jesus loves me,
THis I know,
For the mindless
Tell me so.
Little bits
To him are big;
And I'm a bit---
O Holy Pig!
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Morning Touch is so fresh and innocent. Thank you, Sophia.
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Independence
Do it yourself, depend on no other;
No one's your slave, nor brother nor mother.
Work out a plan, stand up a man;
Earn what you get and never forget
Depend is a vice,
Depend is not nice,
Depend is the source of downward course
To dark and empty night.
Independence is the only way of light.
Independence will flick your switch to bright.
If you'd be wholly free
Then self-sufficient be;
If you'd live unafraid
Then work and earn and trade;
If you'd not waste your time
Then thinking is no crime;
If you'd not fall to fate
Then make your reason great.
If you would top a hill,
If you would cross a stream,
Then climb with your own will
And build on your own scheme.
If you would lag at ease
Till all comes "somehow" true,
You're lying with the fleas
Till some cross dog bites you.
So, depend on no other, do it yourself;
Stand up a man and work out a plan;
Earn what you get----don't ever forget!
Then sing free, "Independence!"
_______________________________________
Brian Faulkner
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Years ago I read a supremely excellent poem by Joseph Haldeman about, of all things, cryogenic suspension. It was published in Omni magazine, which is now defunct. It contains one of my favorite lines:
"A billion suns have risen since my birth
I'm old, but still too young for ash or earth."
Very good poem, not many people can create a meaningful sonnet that long.
I'm also extremely fond of the cowboy poems of Badger Clark, one of which was quoted by Ayn Rand in CUI:
The Westerner
My fathers sleep on the sunrise plains,
And each one sleeps alone.
Their trails may dim to the grass and rains,
For I choose to make my own.
I lay proud claim to their blood and name,
But I lean on no dead kin;
My name is mine, for the praise or scorn,
And the world began when I was born
And the world is mine to win.
They built high towns on their old log sills,
Where the great, slow rivers gleamed,
But with new, live rock from the savage hills
I'll build as they only dreamed.
The smoke scarce dies where the trail camp
lies,
Till the rails glint down the pass;
The desert springs into fruit and wheat
And I lay the stones of a solid street
Over yesterday's untrod grass.
I waste no thought on my neighbor's birth
Or the way he makes his prayer.
I grant him a white man's room on earth
If his game is only square.
While he plays it straight I'll call him mate;
If he cheats I drop him flat.
Old class and rank are a wornout lie,
For all clean men are as good as I,
And a king is only that.
I dream no dreams of a nurse-maid state
That will spoon me out my food.
A stout heart sings in the fray with fate
And the shock and sweat are good.
From noon to noon all the earthly boon
That I ask my God to spare
Is a little daily bread in store,
With the room to fight the strong for more,
And the weak shall get their share.
The sunrise plains are a tender haze
And the sunset seas are gray,
But I stand here, where the bright skies blaze
Over me and the big today.
What good to me is a vague "maybe"
Or a mournful "might have been,"
For the sun wheels swift from morn to morn
And the world began when I was born
And the world is mine to win.
To see more of his poems, go to http://www.cowboypoetry.com/badger.htm#Westerner
These are great, Janet. Thanks for posting. The first, above, almost immediately set my mind a-going, thus;
The only stars that shot out at my birth
Were my two hands---to clasp the best of earth.
Then, as I get carried away,
A billion times the earth has circled round
And still the spring of life's not fully wound.
The hour hand of man has just begun
And Reason, with its minutemen, does run.
Excuse me, Jennifer.
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Just beautiful! Sophia. Thank you very much for posting.
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Life
The foolish hand but air doth hold,
The reckless, blood and scars;
The sure one pockets all the gold
And steers the man to the stars.
Brian Faulkner
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commercial by Nike played before the 18th hole during the final round of the US Open last week. Tiger needed a birdie to force a playoff in the tournament and got it. As a quick summary, the commercial features a few lines from an old interview with Earl Woods, Tiger's dad, who passed away a few years ago. I liked the commercial so much I wanted to share it. The first time I saw it I got goosebumps. Anyone who watches, please share your thoughts...
That's great. Thanks.
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Thanks, Myrhaf. Grand Hotel has long been one of my favorite movies.
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The word God denotes an aspect of reality which can be misunderstood. It does not cease to be a valid aspect of reality. So what does the word "God" denote? It denotes existance, as existance. The potential for an entity to exist, so to speak. Look, a human being is a huge collection of cells, which are a huge collection of atoms, which are a huge collection of subatomic particules, which we at some point just call "energy". This "energy", is "God". The "Universe" is "God's" "body", in a sense, when someone says "God" what they really mean is "The Universe" as "The Universe". Which does not mean they understand it. False beliefs regarding "The Universe" are not indicative of "The Universe" not existing.
The word "God" can also denote another aspect of reality, namely, beings with great power. Now, that doesn't mean a particular being exists, in fact. You can dream up a person, yet people exist.
A "god" is a supernatural (thus, nonexistent) being. To arbitrarily capitalize the "g" and make it "G" does not create a unique thing in reality. This simpleton attempt to create something out of nothing "works" for those who wish the wishes (gods) of their minds to be regarded as real and having power over existence. The man who has surrendered, or never developed, his reason, has no power over his life---its meaning, its happiness---and sets up this all-powerful being, this God, as something to worship, but never to reach.
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bookends
Thank you, Sophia. What a feast for the eyes!
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Andromeda
Autumn Leaves
Moonshadow
Moment in Time
Thank you, Sophia. I especially like Autumn Leaves---so light, so happily sleepy.
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Sacredized
The rain came playing down the gray sky
And dancing lashed each passerby.
Some, voices joined to the boisterous noise
And laughed and danced and ran like little boys.
The rain came swaying through the great trees,
Branch on branch was dashed with ease,
And each wet leaf was set a-sway
With silvery tips a-lit so gay.
The rain lay chaste on the naked ground,
Its panting past cast not a sound.
The young sun sprung way high o'er mounts,
Which tumbled some in bubbling founts.
The lake is razor-rate, sharp and great,
A sheer clean mirror in keen clear state.
The dark tall trees around that are
Frame beauty in this storm-built star.
It waits the face of brave bright maid,
And manly hands all unafraid,
To be baptized by meaning much
And sacredized by human touch.
__________________________________
Brian Faulkner
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Here are three poems which I've written in the past week.
Old-Time Fighting Song (with a debt to Ayn Rand for the last line)
That man whose grasp of spear
Holds not one ounce of fear,
But reddest pounds of right
For hurling into flight
The fact that he is good
To fight the fight he should
Against man's evil foe---
The lowest of the low---
Oh, may his aim be keen,
And may his throw be clean
To strike between the eyes
The men of hateful lies,
That they may parted be
From all we hear and see,
And standing, spirits strong,
The men whose eyes are song,
Whose laughter lights the earth
With solemn, gladdest worth,
Yea, standing up, I say,
Like shouldering month of May,
When all the hills up high
Thrust buds into the sky,
And storms, they envy not
This flowery, happy lot,
And planets almost dance
To see lost man advance,
For where the hero goes
Ebb back the old-time woes,
As God is set aflame
And faith goes down in shame,
And chains of brotherhood
Are stricken off for good.
Now only this is clear---
I am, I think, I steer.
_________________________________
Gone For A Week
Ah, you are not here, my diamond darling,
My ever shooting, radiating star,
My rose-petaled sun,
My swaying, dancing song,
My ship come into shore,
My many pounds of gold,
My one unique flower,
My highest hill,
My soul.
Ah, you are not here,
And the new year seems so far,
So sere, so still, so very cold.
Oh, but the light of you lingers,
And the minutes run on up to you,
And I am ready now to leap,
But the hours creep,
Am ready to fly,
But can only sigh,
Could sing,
But I cannot sing.
Your name is on my lips,
Waiting your breath
To burn it to a burning brand,
And the storming of your hands
Is in my hands.
Ah! You are not here!
____________________________
The Gift of Cyrano
For her whose mind is set aglow
By reading hero Cyrano,
May all her dreams come shining true
Whatever paths she seeks them through,
And may her courage never fail,
How strong each storm, how stiff each gale,
And by the light of reason's glow
Find her own living Cyrano.
But may the end that's in the play---
Of lovers wholly cut away
Before sun Joy has showered bliss---
In life turn into lasting kiss,
And Cyran's spirit shine so bright
That farthest stars seem hers by right.
And so may reading prove its worth
By granting heaven more on earth,
Inspiring her to hands-on deeds
For all she wants and all she needs.
Rostand the master a great play made;
She'll grasp its law---Live unafraid.
_____________________________________
Brian Faulkner
Why Couldn't Ayn Come Up With A Better Response
in Miscellaneous Topics
Posted
Right on target post, Ifat. Thank You.