for Michael and George (oh, and Ayn too)
I believe in the recognition of my credit and the increase of my capital.
I believe in speciality freed from the bonds of spirit, and sensuality liberated from the chains of the heart.
I believe, for the sake of my salvation from the Old Fashioned, in the total discontinuity between what is and what ought to be. After all, running a business by Old Fashioned principles will destroy a business, and will prove just how old Old Fashioned is.
I believe in the privacy of my opinion, and my freedom from the opinions of others.
I believe in time as money, work as money, as the only way to protect myself from becoming a peon.
I believe that nothing exists outside of it making sense (and cents, for that matter).
I believe in home as privacy and entertainment center, definitely not work, definitely not production. Food is a product of agriculture. Goods are the product of market and supermarket, and if I’m focused enough, a really great sale at the train wreck store.
I believe in virtuous self-interest. I do not know what that means, and I suspect it is oxymoronic. But it sounds cool.
I believe in the law for the recognition of my credit and the increase of my capital. Other people can believe in that too, but that is not really important (but I’ll keep that to myself).
I believe in urbanity and suburbanity as liberation from the Old Fashioned city and country. Meaning is possible only in urbanity. Virtual reality is possible only in suburbinanity. Oscar, the end and statue of entrepreneurship, is recognizable only in these conditions.
I believe that all claims on the part of groups to represent ‘conscience,’ ‘morality,’ and ‘principle’ must be exposed for what they are: disguises for naked power and raw interest.
Don't blame me for disasters and depressions. It's not my fault. I believe, after all, in virtuous self-interest.
Let sound forth the horn, the pipe and lyre, the trigon, harp and bagpipe, with every kind of music to all the peoples and nations of the World Urban, and fall down and praise, for salvation from the Old Fashioned tattered cloak. and the pleasures of Oscar's iron cage.