Mail from Libertarians (more than one) discussing the crack I made in the “I Hate Your Politics” rant about them all being disappointed that they’re not the illegitimate children of Ayn Rand and Robert Heinlein. Most are admitting this is true (The Libertarians as a group are being rather good-natured about the ribbing, much like a secure bald guy tolerates jokes about not having any hair), but a couple have expressed a horror contemplating at least one of these authors as a progenitor. The most recent e-mail along this line, solidly in Ayn’s camp, noted: “I would have been satisfied to have Ayn Rand as a mother, [but] to have the author of numerous execrable Lazarus Long novels as my father would cause me to contemplate self-destruction.”
Which of course caused me to contemplate: Given the choice between Heinlein and Rand, which would I want as a parent? Let’s posit that one couldn’t have both—beyond such a union causing the cracking of at least four of the seven seals, there’s a pretty good chance that after about 15 minutes in each other’s presence, either or both of them would have been thumbing their holsters. There can only be one Alpha Male in the room. In a shootout, incidentally, it’d be even money: Heinlein would probably be faster off the draw, but Rand would probably need a stake through the heart to go down. (Before you start: I know about Rand and her thoughts on force. But let’s just see her try to reason with Angry Bob.)
Personally, I’m not so sure I’d want Heinlein for a dad (too much weapons-handling and gruff-but-fair cuffing around the ears), but I can say with absolute certainly that the idea of Rand as my mother fills me with an unholy terror. As, I’m sure, it would fill Rand to contemplate me as a child of hers, or, really, to have any children whatsoever. Some people want children, and some want acolytes, and Rand was well into that second camp. Children are unreasonable. Acolytes aren’t (well, maybe they are, but they know to keep it away from you).
But why go on into detail about all the reasons I wouldn’t want Ayn Rand for a mom when a cheap-and-simplistic Top Ten list will do? And so, without further ado:
10: Her not-so-secret disappointment that you weren’t able to operate a speedboat the first time you saw one, even after watching the help do it for ten whole minutes.
9: Birthday gifts: Erector sets and a “Lil’ Smelter” kit.
8: Pushing you to date her young male followers after she’s “vetted” them is really kind of creepy.
7: At bedtime, reads you The Giving Tree as a cautionary tale.
6: Wouldn’t speak to you for a week after you admitted that you kind of like useless ornamentation.
5: Her “Birds and Bees” chat to you sounds like a particularly seamy scene in a film by David Fincher.
4: Always ends arguments by throwing down a bunch of pictures of modern buildings; seems angry that you don’t see the logic.
3: Dismisses your desire to visit Disneyland as “Anti-Life.” She’s right, of course, but you’re still disappointed.
2: Tears down the house rather than let you choose the wallpaper for your room.
1: Your Babysitter: Alan Greenspan.