Ellsworth Toohey, the arch-villain of Ayn Rand’s novel, The Fountainhead, meets with Peter Keating, an arch-compromiser, second-hander, and betrayer of what few personal values he had, and who has just won a lucrative architectural contest. Toohey’s chief focus, however, is not Keating, but Howard Roark, the novel’s hero. Toohey has never met him, but fears him and is planning to destroy his career in architecture and see him jailed and taking orders from his moral inferiors.
Toohey – whose physical appearance Rand had modeled on the British socialist Harold Laski – “…spoke with a kind of cautious precision. The sounds of his voice were small and dry and final, like the cracks of matches being broken.” At one point in their conversation, which Keating senses has taken an odd turn, Toohey asks him several questions about Roark.
“Does he talk much?”
“Does he listen if others discuss any…ideas with him?”
“He listens. It would be better if he didn’t.”
“It would be less insulting – if you know what I mean, when a man listens like that and you know it hasn’t made slightest bit of difference to him.”
“Did he always want to be an architect?”
“What’s the matter, Peter?”
“Nothing. It just occurred to me how strange it is that I’ve never asked myself that about him. He’s a maniac on the subject of architecture. It seems to mean so damn much to him that’s he’s lost all human perspective. He just has no sense of humor about himself at all – now there’s a man without a sense of humor, Ellsworth. You don’t ask what he’d do if he didn’t want to be an architect.”
“No,” said Toohey. “You ask what he’d do if he couldn’t be an architect.”
“He’d walk over corpses. Any and all of them. All of us. But he’d be an architect.” [pp. 253-254]
That excerpt is by way of introducing the subject of what prominent, real life villains today would be had they not any political connections, no ambition or aspirations to occupy the highest and most powerful political offices, no desire to walk over any and all corpses, including us, to run the country – or at least cripple it or “transform” it so that it was manageable according to a malevolent universe premise – or no desire to give orders to their moral superiors.
The chief Peter Keatings and Ellsworth Tooheys here are the Clintons. Also known as the Clanton – or Clinton – Gang. Hillary and Bill run their own version of the cattle-rustling “Cowboys.”
Were it not for Bill Clinton's penchant for preferring any port in a storm -- that's a sexual innuendo, I hope it’s suitably offensive, but it can also be a politician’s pragmatic option of saying anything and adopting the most expedient pose to stay in power – and for his making Hillary his "life partner" and cuckolded spiritual soul-mate, I do believe Hillary would be a welfare queen somewhere, or a bag lady, or holding odd jobs such as writing a newspaper sob sister’s agony column or composing daily horoscopes, or be known in a bad quarter of town as a foul-mouthed bar fly turning tricks in the men’s room. Perhaps she’d be a lowly, drunken trailer-park harridan and floozy. There is absolutely no substance to this woman. She is a nonentity imbued with a compulsion to control reality by controlling men – in politics.
Having observed her behavior and actions ever since the 1990’s, I have concluded that Hillary is the very model of moral decrepitude.
Well, at least after Barack Obama. But, Obama’s shrewd, as shrewd and feral as cougar stalking its prey. Still, there is nothing in his soul but a messy mound of poisonous glop.
Likewise, there is no substance to Bill Clinton.
Were it not for the growth of statism, of the welfare state, of power politics, of the suborning of Congress by lobbyists seeking exemptions from regulations, or legislation that would insulate them from or destroy competition, the Clintons would be denizens of the lower depths of society.
I can imagine Bill as a pimp of some kind – of the flesh, of the petty favor – as a two-bit ward heeler. As a peddler of patent medicines, as a carnival barker, as an auction house shill, as a Cincinnati Kid-caliber gambler, as a nickel-and-dime craps shooter. As a street corner hustler scamming people with the three-card monte card game, charming the suckers with his soft Arkansas drawl.
Young Bill shook the hand of the country’s premier, “what you can do for your country” fascist, John F. Kennedy (in a photograph I have dubbed, “Passing the Torch of Collectivism”).
One might object: But, they went to college! The most respectable ones! Hillary went to Wellesley and then Yale Law School. Bill went to Georgetown University, and Oxford, and Yale Law School. That’s where the soul-mates met! It’s so romantic! How can you compare them with the dross and besotted sawdust of society?
One’s educational pedigree is no guarantee of one’s character. Hillary corresponded with American radical Saul Alinsky and wrote her adulatory 1969 Wellesley thesis, “There Is Only the Fight,” on his political action tactics.
A successful industrialist or investment billionaire is a billionaire because he has mastered reality. Bill and Hillary are literally “filthy rich” in a congenital quest to amass a fortune which they see as a shield against reality. Daniel Greenfield, in a May 7th FrontPage column noted:
Hillary Clinton has many positions, against and for gay marriage, against and for illegal immigration, for and against fighting crime. If you don’t like a Hillary position, write out a $300,000 check to the Clinton Foundation and wait 4 to 6 weeks for her position to change.
Statism, or the political philosophy that the state is all, and the individual but its servant, acts as a vehicle for power-seekers and the pursuers of the unearned, and allows the dross and dredges of society to rise to the top strata of the state, by fair means and foul, by deception and verisimilitude. They run for office by putting on dog and pony shows; today’s shows are elaborate and long drawn-out “campaigns” and cost billions of dollars, from the time a person announces his candidacy to razzle-dazzle party conventions. What serves as the ringmaster of the multifarious spectacle?
Largely, the mainstream media, which is decidedly pro-statism, and pro-anyone who promises to expand the welfare state.
Under statism, virtuous men are barred from running for office because of their virtues.
The Bill and Hillary Clintons of politics do not produce anything. Instead, like their other power-lusting ilk, they scheme, manipulate, plot to get money, to get power.
Then there’s their distaff spawn, Chelsea Clinton. Like parents, like daughter. Greenfield had no kind words for her, either, in his May 18th FrontPage article, “Bill and Hillary Produced the Ultimate Entitled Offspring.”
This shouldn’t be too much of a shock. As bad as Bill and Hillary are, they did at least put some effort into getting where they are. Chelsea was simply born. It shouldn’t be too shocking that she acts like the entitled spoiled brat of an entitled power couple.
Greenfield links to an article by Richard Johnson of the New York Post, also of May 18th, “Staff Quit Clinton Foundation.”
Chelsea Clinton is so unpleasant to colleagues, she’s causing high turnover at the Bill, Hillary and Chelsea Clinton Foundation, sources say. Several top staffers have left the foundation since Chelsea came on board as vice chairman in 2011…
None of this would surprise her former co-workers at McKinsey and NBC News. At both the management consulting firm and the network, co-workers allegedly were told they couldn’t approach Chelsea.
A source at NBC, where Chelsea was paid $600,000 a year, said, “If someone wanted to talk to Chelsea about something, they had to go through a producer.”
… Instead of being something Hillary can point to with pride, the foundation has become a bloated slush fund that some critics say deserves an official investigation. And Chelsea’s fingerprints are all over it.
About that habit of “getting” money, there’s also the scandal behind that foundation’s donor sources and its purposes. But that’s a whole ‘nother story.
Hillary, Dickory, Dock.
Hillary’s racing the clock.
She’s only sixty-nine.
Way, way past her prime.
And her talk is as full as a windsock.
Hillary, Billary, Dock
The lady’s racing the clock
Unlike her hubby
She’s turned a tat tubby
So Bill‘s living out of wedlock.
The Fountainhead, by Ayn Rand. New York: Bobbs-Merrill Company, 1943. 754 pp.