When I consider the glory of the Seven Wonders of the World, and ponder how "impossible" the architectural feats of ancient peoples who labored so intensively and scientifically (consider those who built nearly 1,000 years ago, the astronomical buildings of New Mexico's, Chaco Canyon - a veritable gargantuan, ancient sundial, in its vast complex of structures - which kept track of the seasons and days of the year as precisely as Big Ben, or a Timex), and did so, obviously, truly amazing, without the benefits of modern technologies ....
When I consider the unparalled invention of the computer, the internet, even indoor plumbing ....
When I consider Galileo, Einstein, and the invention of the wheel ....
That is, when I consider all these people and their visionary, singular accomplishments throughout World History, as magnificent and humane and life-affirming as they are, they still don't compare - no, they pale by comparison - to what is so obviously (and incontrovertibly), the Single Greatest Achievement in Human History: Atlas Shrugged, by Ayn Rand.
Atlas Shrugged is about a thinly disguised, pompous, un-pretty, and compassion-less Bee-otch (pardon the oh-so-egregious "ad hominems" - shame on me!), named Ayn Rand (who should've known better, considering the pompous, unpretty, and compassion-less totalitarian regime she hailed from), played by a stick-figure named Dagny Taggart, who decides, like she's Almighty Yahweh, that she's going to rule the World someday via The Railroads; and who, unfortunately, and rather awkwardly, stylistically speaking (such wooden prose) also engages in some of the worst written sex ever penned; sex so poorly written it made even Norman Mailer cringe (and Tom Pynchon cringes to this day!)
In a nutshell, John Galt can kiss my tuckus.
(This piece was written in response to a review citing Atlas Shrugged as "the greatest achievement in history").
A classic! Poor Ash Ryan.
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