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Rencontre avec la fille Ayn Rand

  L'un de mes endroits préférés pour sortir était le Dancers, un club situé à l'intersection des rues Harrison et Second. C'était un espace sombre où des lumières colorées clignotaient au rythme d'un battement industriel constant, créant une atmosphère de sensualité incontournable, avec des gens qui dansaient sur le comptoir du bar. J'avais maladroitement demandé à plusieurs jeunes femmes de danser avec moi, mais à chaque fois, elles avaient refusé. Juste au moment où le découragement s'installait, j'ai repéré une femme séduisante près de la piste de danse, appuyée contre un pilier, de longs cheveux bouclés cascadant sur ses épaules nues, et ses grands yeux marron encadrés par des sourcils épais et parfaitement soignés. En m'approchant d'elle, je me préparais à un autre refus, car elle aussi risquait de décliner ma demande. Je lui ai donc posé la question cliché : « Tu viens souvent ici ? » À ma grande surprise, cela a engagé la conversation. Et il s...
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The Ayn Rand Institute and Open Borders: An Analysis of Yaron Brook’s Arguments

    Ayn Rand Institute Pushing Open Borders: A Critique of Yaron Brook In a 2016 Ayn Rand Institute (ARI) lecture titled “Free Will, Free Borders,” Dr. Yaron Brook advocates for open borders and illegal immigration. Watching his speech, one might mistake him for a La Raza speaker or a university professor as he hysterically argues that America's borders are inherently racist. Brook is the chairman of the board of ARI. What happened to reason and the Objectivist movement? Has the ARI gone woke?  Moreover Brook's presentation is loaded with accusatory rhetoric and logical fallacies. It makes one wonder if Brook is really an Objectivist and how he became the chairman of ARI?  And as fanatical as he sounds about his demands for America to have open-borders, it turns out that Dr. Brook doesn't believe any of his arguments should apply to Israel's borders. How ironic. 
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Monique Drove a Citroën SM: A 1980s San Francisco Memory

A Night in 1980s San Francisco: A Maserati-Powered Citroën SM and a Romance One of my favorite placed to go out to was Dancers, a club on Harrison and Second Street. It was a dimly lit space where colored lights flashed to a constant industrial beat, creating an inescapable aura of sensuality, with people dancing on top of the bar. I had awkwardly asked several ladies to dance with me, but each time they declined. Just as discouragement set in, I spotted an attractive lady near the dance floor, leaning against a pillar with her arms folded. She seemed relaxed, her long, curly hair cascading over her bare shoulders, her large brown eyes framed by thick, manicured eyebrows. Approaching her, I braced for another rejection as she too might decline my request, so I asked her the clichéd question: “Do you come here often?” To my surprise, it led to a conversation. And it turned out we had something in common: she, too, had worked at the Carnelian Room restaurant (on the 52nd floor of the Ban...
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