Burning Prometheus

I had heard about Atlas Shrugged in the news around age ten, and the cover art had stuck with me all the way up until age 17, When I finally bought and read it. I had never accepted the idea that a human is evil simply by nature of existence and what his first ancestor did in a garden to the east (even though some seem to think that this is true, but that being the great-grandson af a slave-owner makes you racist). The exalted sense of life and the moral basis for capitalism struck me as correct, and subsequent thought and reading has made my convictions only stronger. If you want a Freudian answer, it would probably be that my introvertive tendencies were intensified after my little brother was born, and I became extremely possessive, as my things were constantly destroyed by him. Either way, Objectivism doesn't compute only with those who are prejudiced, emotional, or simply lazy (unless, of course, they simply refuse to recognize it). Other factors probably include friends, my highly intelligent father and art.