Let’s do it. The Rand Creed.

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The Brizene Creed. Don't parse. I'm just smarter than you. Get used to it.

The Brizene Creed. Don’t parse. I’m just smarter than you. Get used to it. Well, yeah. HER creed too. We’re so hot together you wouldn’t believe it. “I love idiots with hard-ons,” she says. Love her to death. Except that Ayn Rand IS stone cold dead.

I believe in myself absolutely, alone and without resort. I believe in no father, no creator, no savior, no designer of earth.

I am therefore entitled to tell others what to believe, since there is nothing to believe, and I might as well be the one to make it up for them.

This is obviously the right way to go, me being the one to tell everyone else how to live, since morals are implicit in the essential logic of the universe. Have you read my explanation of the exact month and week it’s okay to commit abortions up to? It’s brilliant. I’m Brizoni and I have looked into the void of existence and I know there’s no God.

Let me start again. I am Brizoni. There is no God. I am happy. I am happy. I am happy, god damn you.

I am Brizoni. I’d be happier if all of you would give up your superstitious, bullshit beliefs. Especially the ones who know ten times about history what I do. Because only I know how derelict, empty, and awful your beliefs are in the context of history I’ve never had the time or inclination to learn.

I am Brizoni. I know fucking everything. I read a book once. She was hot. I imagine myself fucking Dagny on a rail car right before we fly away from the dying lights of New York and watch the civilization you fools cling to fade, fade away into the dark.

I am Brizoni. I am Atlas. I am shrugging. You’re all idiots.

I am Brizoni. I am the fountainhead of a new birth of civilization. I am the entire replacement for what you all yearn for in a God. Because I can explain everything, and I once wrote an essay about it that convinced me. QED. Hell, if you can convince me, you’re hot shit.

I am Brizoni. Why wouldn’t that ever be enough for anybody?

Amen.

7 thoughts on “Let’s do it. The Rand Creed.”

  1. Alfa was right. The deerhound bites. Mind your manners or take me on. Your choice. Never been a moment when I couldn’t take you apart. That you don’t get that is a measure of your arrogance. Gives me no pleasure, honestly, to tell you all your supposed learning is but a splinter. No pleasure.

    You’re a kid. Not even half my age. I’m sorry you’re so bitter and removed. All I can tell you is that you’re fucking wrong. Charging blindly 180 degrees in the wrong direction. I know. How can someone as brilliant as you be as wrong as I say you are? Uh. Easy. Because you know what everyone else here knows. I’m smarter than almost everyone. No shame in admitting that. Unless you’re a truly determined flat out fool.

    Are you?

  2. http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_cvdgPlEKW9k/TRq7nI9HNjI/AAAAAAAABlA/ETl9RrJu0kU/s400/Straw_Man.jpg

    I suspect you’re doing even worse than you want me to think. I think your Judas obsession has finally got the best of you. You think you’ve found a way to outdo Judas AND Jesus. If maybe not Harry.

    You think you can make a holy sacrifice of your integrity.

    Do you have the balls to ask yourself what sort of God would accept such a sacrifice? Much less want it?

    You really want more? You’ll get it. InstaPunk. Tomorrow. Noon, your time. Bring some bigger guns than this faggoty Straw Fiat derringer.

    • Have you completely lost your sense of humor? What has happened to you? I don’t recognize you any more.

      Please don’t do this.

  3. You’re barking up the wrong tree. Got over my Judas obsession a long time ago. Not interested in being a Christ figure of any kind.

    But, hell, bring it. Whatever you’ve got. Something’s got you fired up. If it’s not meth, I’ll be intrigued to see what it is.

    Bear in mind, though: for quite a while now, you’ve been nothing but boring. Not boring would be a giant leap forward. Not expecting that, honestly.

  4. btw, how would you know how well or not I’m doing? You’ve resisted multiple attempts at contact. Your manifesto should probably explain why you’re entitled to ignore the people who have cared about you. Up to that, kemo sabe?

  6. I’ll check it out, Brizoni. Maybe I’m prejudiced in God’s favor because most of the experiences I’ve had in his various “houses” were good ones. Vacation Bible School, seeing a Christmas pageant with the family, stuff like that. For a while the family went to a Methodist church that was almost the spitting image of the passage in TBB that talks about the smell of burning wax, and honeysuckle floating in through the open windows, until Dad got sick of the petty politics among some of the church’s more prominent congregants.

    And I still believe in all that stuff I posted in the last go-round, about other people being not only logically people, but actually people. Not that I don’t lose sight of it sometimes. Sometimes it’s all too goddamn easy.

    At any rate, we can all give thanks that your love of Rand disqualifies you from any involvement in “Atheism Plus.” I’m still not sure how it’s supposed to be different from garden-variety Marxism.

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