Keith Jones > Recent Status Updates

I feel like I'm reading a war-game computer simulation. It's like the Kell are the Protoss, and the Eels are Terrans, I guess. Definitely, not Zerg. The Kell have been caught off guard because the Terrans used a cheat-code to upgrade their base. I'm just waiting for everyone to log out of the simulator and one guy to say "Hey, no fair, we agreed we weren't using that expansion pack!"

Whoa, whoa, whoa! When someone is found Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity, they don't walk away free. They go for psychiatric evaluation and spend time in a mental institution. I don't think The Fountainhead understands this point.

And my library loan ended, again. Now I have to wait a couple of weeks before finishing this turkey, which is probably a good thing. Book really is a slog, and it’s gotten really stereotypically melodramatic. However, this book is old enough that it could actually be one of the sources of the stereotype, which doesn’t automatically make it good.

You can think for yourself rather than blindly follow public opinion and also be against dynamiting buildings. These are not mutually exclusive concepts. The general public realizing that Roark is a violent psychopath who likes to blow crap up doesn’t make them sheep.

Saying that “thinking for yourself rather than blindly following other’s opinions means that you are selfish” kind-of stretches the definition of selfish. While technically a true statement, it does not automatically follow that you must be selfish about everything. You can think for yourself and also help other people. It sounds like you’re trying to justify the fact you are mean and horrible to other people.

What a load of cock and balls! That’s exactly the kind-of selfishly entitled I don’t want to help other people because I already give so much of my mind rich-man’s bullpucky I would expect from the likes of you, Wynand. And, of course, Roark agrees with you. He’s a violent psychopath.

I’m with you on the first part, Roark, subsidies for low-income housing should not be exclusively at the expense of the middle-class; however, I think your anger is misplaced. You shouldn’t be angry at low-income people for needing subsidies. You should be angry at the wealthy people for refusing to be equitably taxed themselves.

Peter Keating remains The Fountainheads most underrated tragic hero. He’s started painting on the sly so nobody can take it away from him. That’s wonderful. Developing your artistry is going to be the hardest, most painful thing you’ve ever done in your life. Keep with it. I’m rooting for you, man. Seriously, why isn’t Peter the main character of this book?

You got it right the second time, Peter. You actually saw Gail and Dominique for the flaming balls of contempt and pure unbridled hate that they are. While--okay--they do have shriveled up husks of souls, there’s not much left of them or their humanity.

I hate to break it to you Dominique, but Peter has a soul. He’s shallow, sure, and afraid to express an original opinion of his own, but he’s got a soul. You, Dominique, the poor damaged goth kid that you are, it’s debatable if you have one.

Peter Keating remains the most sympathetic character. Dominique was finally able to drive Peter’s horrible overwhelming control-freak of a mother away, which is good. If Dominique wasn’t so damaged from Roark’s abuse, she might recognize Peter’s artistic soul and help him overcome the disenfranchisement and disempowerment that has been heaped upon him.

Dominique was a South Park goth kid. Then, that violent psychopath Howard Roark decided to make her a “project.” His campaign of continuous psycosexual torture and abuse has really broken her spirit. She’s gone past nihilism to just basically dead inside. I liked her better when she was a goth kid.

This is satire, right? This feels like it should be satire, but I can’t shake the feeling that the book is being completely sincere, which is just mindboggling. If this isn’t satire, then it’s even funnier than I could possibly imagine.

Wow, laying on the tortured artist martyr porn really thick. It’s sticking to the spoon.

You’ve got it wrong, Mallory. Roark isn’t innocent. He’s a psychopath and incapable of feeling simple human empathy. There’s a difference between naive innocence and the inability to empathize with others.

Roark, you sick bastard. I didn’t think it was possible for you to find even more vile and disgusting ways to humiliate Dominique, and yet you manage it. I don’t even know why I’m pointing out what a depraved sicko you are. You’re a violent psychopath and rapist. My words slough off you like rotten skin. I would have better luck screaming at a brick wall.

Library loan ended. Now I have to wait until the book becomes available again, which is just as well. Book is kind-of a slog.

Dominique, it’s not going to work. Roark is a psychopath. He’s never going to feel guilt, compassion or remorse. Your plan isn’t going to work. You can’t humiliate him. You can’t hurt him. Everything you’re doing is just feeding his narcissism, reinforcing his belief that your world is revolves around him. Even if you did nothing, it would still feed his sick, twisted ego.

Now, Dominique, I know I’ve made fun of your name, but you did not deserve what happened to you. You may be a spoiled, rich, nihilistic, just want to watch the world burn punk, but that doesn’t mean you got what was coming to you. It’s perfectly natural to blame yourself, to feel you were asking for it, to think you deserved it, but nobody deserves to be violently raped.

What’s that Roark? She was asking for it? She secretly wanted you to do it and enjoyed it? Yes, that’s exactly what I would expect a self-justifying violent rapist to think, you sick bastard.

Whoa, did I say sociopath? Howard Roark is a violent psychopath and rapist.

Wait, Roark spoke with a colorless voice? The words were without emphasis and evenly spaced? You mean like a monotone? Roark spoke in a flat, emotionless monotone, scaring the bejesus out of everyone else in the room for reasons they could not explain? Yeah, Roark’s one step closer to being the Unabomber.

The heck you doing, Peter? That’s just creepy, stop it. Seriously, you would be much happier as a lowly struggling artist married to Catherine. I know she’s just as vapid as Dominatrix--or whatever her name is--but you actually like Catherine. You can’t stand that nihilistic Dominatrix, anyway. She’s got a brain full of snakes and hell-fire that one does.

If you’re self-aware enough to recognize that you are no good with the schmoozing and self-marketing--said while looking in the mirror--then accept the fact you’re going to have to get a job or otherwise find a way to pay the bills. I know sociopathy makes it hard for you to get off your asterisk, Roark, but you’re going to have to make the effort.

Howard Roark is a lazy good-for-nothing slacker. He’s the worst kind of tortured martyr artist. Not only does he want people to recognize his greatness through absolutely zero effort on his part, but he wants to be a selfish pig to other people about it. He would rather sit brooding in a dark, empty office than put the slightest effort into anything.

Book is also laying on the tortured artist martyr porn really thick. It’s just troweling it on. Did people really hate Art Deco that much when it first broke on the scene?

I can’t decide if Roark is just trying to freak Peter out--aka scaring the straights--or if he really hasn’t given a second’s thought to what he’s doing. Considering that Roark is a stone-cold sociopath, I’m inclined to think he’s incapable of making long-term plans. He simply lacks the imagination to see beyond the current moment or consider the consequences of any action he might take.

Unfortunately, Peter lacks the self-confidence and inner fortitude to escape from his mother and leave the architect’s path that everybody expects of him behind.

The most tragically sympathetic character is Peter Keating, who doesn’t really want to be an architect but feels trapped by circumstances and an overbearing mother. I get the sense that Peter would be much, much happier toiling away as a struggling artist, but first he would have to ditch his horrible shrew of a mother.

Howard Roark is a sociopath, incapable of compassion or human empathy. It’s why everybody is scared of him. They sense that something is missing. He doesn’t see other people as human. He even knows he doesn’t understand people, and he doesn’t care. Roark is one manifesto away from being the Unabomber.