This is John Galt speaking. Like the thrust of a noble piston, working ever harder at its virtuous aims, in and out, faster and faster, man finds his greatest joy in shaking off the oppressive shackles of socialism, and reaching his glistening, sweat-drenched fists deep into the gullet of untamed industry. Free from the taint of foul academia, man strives to reach his pinnacle, his truest form, not by the doctrine of the needy, or even by people who read "books," but by the sight of the world grasped within his pure, calloused, lily-white hands. To free himself from the tyrrany of the looters, from the autocracy of the learned, and the sight and smell of filthy homeless people, man must work dilligently to achieve his true and rightful place in the world. This can be achieved by 1) being a total asshole, and 2) playing Bioshock.