I can't believe she made me do that...

Well, I guess I didn't really do it. Not 100% anyway, but I mean, come on, who can honestly bear reading 40 or so pages of one person talking philosophy in a novel. This is what the author, and self-proclaimed philosopher, Ayn Rand had me do this morning after I put it off last Friday when I skipped ahead to see how long John Galt would be talking. Basically, the whole rant could have been summed up in 2 pages, especially these pages and this small sized font. I don't remember most of it, and skipped a lot of it. I just need to vent at what a waste of time. The hero of the book is somewhat admirable, except for the fact that he stole Dagny from Hank Rearden, which I thought was a nice relationship. Secret Power couple.

Now what do I think of John Galt? It reminded me of why I hated philosophy class so much in college. Or reading the assignments rather. Some philosophers have interesting ideas, but then they write like a million pages, describing and giving examples of their theories, which is all they are, and succeed in making it the most boring undertaking of all time. I am pretty sure no one has every thought of philosophy class as exciting. Luckily one's thinking usually ends there, but imagine how boring the philosophers themselves must have been. Averring the numerous theories on how life is meant to be lived, and getting the most out of it and all this crap, while they wither away writing and thinking and talking about the same shit all day long but in different words. Maybe sometimes they would have little boring tea parties with other philosophers and argue their ideas to each other. No one ever won the argument I guess, as it is just their opinion and no facts are involved.

I am not against thinking deeply about things. In fact, I undertake that very action on various things in this world and others that I am sure no other human being has ever taken the time to philosophize about. But I certainly am not stuck up enough to think someone wants to read a few hundred pages about it. Actually, I wouldn't waste my own time in the first place producing something like that.

So, I am just glad that people are talking to each other again, and the story is almost over, and the million page speech is over.
If the book does not get better, and John Galt doesn't hit me back with something goood, I might end up repressing his character from my memory and will indeed be asking, "Who Is John Galt?"