I'd had a tough morning prancercising and

I'd had a tough morning prancercising and wasn't in the mood to chat when 2 women called to save my soul. I unstrapped my ankle weights & called my lawyer. She hadn't received the

manila folder full of pictures placing senator Rand in questionable scenarios.

manipulated because cats were extinct & Rand was a quadrapeligic. Then I fould a bolt from the Eiffel Tower in Senator Rand's limosine cushions & became suspicious. Was it a setup?

Then Rand let me in on the big secret. His face was red and puffy. Senator Rand said, "Psst, come here." He cupped his hand to my ear and told me a god awful secret that turned my

stomach. "The Individual is the God and Ruler of himself," he whispered. Then he shed his skin and ascended to heaven as Ayn Rand, shining in the red, red sun. Objectivism is the

great paradox of life, for if you believe in objectivism, you are no longer objective, you see, Weedhopper? Frankly I was weary of these parables. They made no sense to me, but I

*thunk* Weedhopper punched the philosopher in the face. "How's that for subjective reality?" The old man took off his glasses and returned a boot to the head. "My foot is the ideal

way to kick you on the head and put you in your place!". The philosopher got back up,cleaned his glasses,&put them back on. I rubbed my pounding head."Weedhopper, I'll make a deal

that will satisfy determinism. Free will is bunk, but I need those Metallica tickets. The philosopher peered at me, as though considering the ages. "Sad, but true," he crooned.