I have old golfer’s disease: I get to 10 feet and in and I can’t make them anymore, because in my old age I’ve accepted in my head how hard golf actually is. My 20 year old nephew pours in 10 footers like they’re nothing. And like I used to.
Shot 88 with a late 8 and didn’t make ANYTHING. Closed with a nice two-putt birdie, though, after covering 515 with my first two. Haven’t had a look at eagle on the green in a long time.
I’m about 10 hours of practice, and 10 years of aging away from my old golfing self.
I speak of racists, homophobes, much of the uneducated and uninformed, and people who think Paul “#RandianFantasy” Ryan is “smart.”
I read Atlas Shrugged no less than 5X as a kid. Teens and 20’s. Huge influence at that time of my life. Then I got old enough to recognize idealized fantasy fiction, primarily exhibited by the central flaw in all her work (and I read a ton of it): Her protagonists are fantasy-pure-of-heart. The fatal attraction to people like Ryan is their delusional self-belief that they are as moral and smart as Rand’s heroes. It’s embarrassing.
Our Founding Fathers would’ve thought Atlas Shrugged was a comedic parody.
Will we hear a prominent GOP official use the N-word this year?
It would be irresponsible not to speculate.
Update: Right on! I think I may have it figured out…
The scenes between the psychiatrist-in-training and the protagonist were great, and the Rogan-protagonist scenes had some laughs, but it didn’t move me like I thought it might, and I didn’t like the mom or the gf (which I don’t think was the idea, ultimately). Perhaps it will have more meaning for me when I’m diagnosed.