Guest Columnist: Edita Frostbush – President, Baton Rouge Ayn Rand Fan Club

Dear Honest, Hardworking Baton Rougeans,

I have always believed that what I work hard to produce is mine to enjoy.

When my children were born, they cried like the selfish loafers they were for my milk. And I denied them of it, knowing it would teach them self-reliance.

What happened? The state, the government, the communists came and took them, giving them to people less than I to be pampered and made fat on the spoils of others.

Where are they now? More than likely, suckling at the teat of the bloated and impotent sow we call city hall.

When I was a teenager, my grandmother died, and I, through my own strength of will, inherited her Toyota.

Once again, we profitable few stand witness to the sow once again raising its head from its loins only to dive tusks first into the trough that is the pockets of its citizens.

The CATS initiative passed with a hefty margin, extracting tens of dollars from the pockets of successful homeowners like people I know.

And for what? To provide transportation to the layabouts who won’t take the time to get off their sodden behinds and buy a car.

This shall bite the sow on its fat and curled tail, my friends. As any intelligently birthed human knows, you cannot improve any individual’s circumstances by making his life easier with handouts.

When I was a teenager, my grandmother died, and I, through my own strength of will, inherited her Toyota. Because of my fortitude and will, I never once had to bum a ride to work or ride the bus to work.

It’s high time these layabouts examine their lives and ask, “Why wasn’t I born into better circumstances?”

Laziness.

Laziness and the desire for profit without effort. Wheat without sowing. A Van Halen tour without an entire album’s worth of mediocre new songs.

The day I was born, I drove my hand out of my mother’s vagina and, grabbing a fistful of pubic hair, dragged myself into this world. I didn’t cry. I didn’t beg for sustenance.

If the others didn’t have the strength to sustain themselves on the clotted, necrotic curds oozing from their mothers’ cooling corpses, then they didn’t have the strength to survive.

Grabbing my mother’s left breast in my hand, I turned to the doctor and said, “I alone am responsible for my birth. I alone am responsible for transporting myself to the place from which I shall take my food.”

Did the doctor take the right breast to feed the children whose mothers died in childbirth? No. He knew I had claimed my birthright. He knew.

If the others didn’t have the strength to sustain themselves on the clotted, necrotic curds oozing from their mothers’ cooling corpses, then they didn’t have the strength to survive.

Just as the best way to prevent the surge of single mothers dependent on welfare is to deny the financially strained both contraception and abortion, secure in the knowledge that people without cable TV surely aren’t having recreational sex, so, too, the best way to get the poor transportation is by forcing them to walk to jobs so they can earn money for a car.

In summation, I ask the following, “Why should Baton Rouge choose this point in time to drag itself into the 1960s? What has an inexpensive and convenient form of public transportation ever done for anyone?”

If you have a reasonable answer for this, please let me know.

About Off the Wire Guest Columnist

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