It occurred to me this morning while taking a shower (a good place to do some thinking; not quite as good as the toilet, but still rather useful) that the left believes that man (sorry…don’t want to be politically incorrect), or rather, humankind, is essentially good.  They believe that a utopian society is possible.  They believe that a whole nation, and even a whole world, can exist peacefully in a communal, one-world, borderless, open society.

This idealistic way of thinking, however, quickly falls apart because at the same time the left preaches this childlike fantasy nonsense, they also admit that if only the greedy, corrupt, evil corporations and billionaires would give up their imperialistic power, a beautiful world of peace and harmony and dolphins and unicorns would open up to us all.  While they believe people are naturally good, they acknowledge that there are people who are not.

The left thinks that man, oops, I mean, humankind, cannot be trusted to be good on their own.  They must be monitored and regulated by the government to make sure they are good.  The left believes that if left to our own devises, we would all be greedy, heartless, brutes who don’t care about other people, who won’t help other people.

So which is it?  You can’t have it both ways.  Either man is capable of a harmonious communal society (man is good) or there are evil, corrupt people who oppress the rest of us (man is bad).  If you say that’s much too black and white, then ask yourself what it is you believe.  Do you believe that man should be free to be good and bad, that he should be free to fail?

If goodness can only be achieved through governmental regulation, then it’s not really goodness.  And if bad exists and cannot be avoided or snuffed out completely, then a utopian society is not possible.  And if you don’t want utopia, if you don’t want a one-world, borderless, open society, then what the hell are you doing on the left?

One of the best treats of the evening (other than a packed, large theatre, in the middle of Hollywood of all places!) was that Chris Mortensen, the director, and Yaron Brook, the president of the Ayn Rand Institute, were there for the screening and held a Q&A session after the film.  I raised my hand.  They called on me.  I cleared my throat, leaned forward, took a breath, and asked, “Do you think, or do you think Ayn would think, that it’s too late, that we can’t come back from this, that we’ve gone too far?”

Silence.  “Well…” Mr. Brook began, “I think it will have to get a lot darker before it gets better.”  I agree.  If it is possible to come back from this, it will not happen anytime soon, and certainly not under Romney’s watch or Gingrich’s, let alone Barak Obama’s.  “Atlas Shrugged” is prophetical, but all of it will have to come true, not just the decline of society, not just the all controlling, ever-present government, not just the loss of freedom, enterprise, and private property, but the very lights of New York City will have to go dark in order for us to turn around, wipe the slate clean, and start over.  I pray that I will not have to see this, and at the same time, hope that I do.

The tiny silver lining that Brook offered was that “as long as there is free speech, there is hope.”  No matter how dark it gets, if there is even a dim, little light, a tiny spark of truth and reason, it may, one day, have the power to overcome the darkness and cover the world in its bright, glorious light.  There can be no light without dark, so although I fear it, I want us to fall, if only so we can climb and rise back up and triumph once again.

You knew the truth, Ayn.  You knew it all too well.  I wish you were here to see us now.  You would be devastated to see how far we have fallen, and yet, you would not be in the least bit surprised.

They’ve got this totally and completely and utterly wrong.  The government cannot create jobs.  It cannot create anything.  It can only redistribute.  Even the government jobs that do exist (that are growing at an ever alarming rate) do not create or produce anything.  The DMV, the Postal Service, the Department of Education, the EPA, the FDA, the IRS, they do not create goods that we willingly purchase in exchange for hard-earned money.  Instead, we are forced to deal with them and adhere to their rules and laws and regulations without any say-so.  We are required to give them money without being asked, without participating in a fair exchange.

When it comes to “creating jobs,” the only thing the government can do is get out of the way so that businesses are free to flourish.  The government cannot help, it can only hurt.  The government must repeal its regulations and restrictions, decrease corporate taxes, and revoke its “Right-to-Work” laws so that businesses, not government, can create jobs.

This phrase that they keep cramming down our throats, this phrase we have readily accepted and, in fact, taken on as our own, this phrase of “creating jobs,” make no mistake, is extremely dangerous.  We are playing into their game.  When language takes hold, when it becomes commonplace, people believe it without even thinking.  And forget about questioning such a notion.  If you tell people, after they have been bombarded with this phrase more times than they can count, more times than they are aware of, that the government cannot create jobs, they will respond, “Of course it can.  Everyone knows that.”

We have to change the language.

Conservatives, however, do not wish to change society.  We want to contribute to society.  We want to build up, not tear down.  We want to create, not destroy.  We want to produce, not restructure.  We believe there is an ever-expanding pie, not that there is a zero sum game.  We know that people do not have because other people do not.  We know that someone’s wealth does not come at the cost of someone else’s poverty.

If we are modern, they are post-modern.  If we are the culture, they are the counter-culture.  If we are structure, they are chaos.

They are the radicals.  They want to change the world.  We are the producers.  We contribute to the world.

Yesterday, I accompanied my mother to the Fox and Hounds, a British pub in Studio City, to see the Bob Cowsill Band, a 1960s & 70s cover band.  The band was great, my mom and her friends were in heaven, dancing and signing along to their favorite songs of yesteryear.

I sat at a high table, on a barstool, watching these older, gray-haired men rock out on their drums and guitars.  Then, as the band played “Flower Girl,” an older woman, probably in her 50s or 60s, began dancing right in front of me.  She had short hair and a bright orange shirt that was several sizes to small for her slightly plump midsection.  She danced and sang and smiled.  How cute, I thought.  Until…

I began examining this ill-fitting, bright orange shirt, and soon realized that in big, black letters, across her back, the t-shirt read, “We are the 99.”  I suddenly became quite annoyed and, more than anything, disappointed.  The song and the band and the atmosphere of the bar suddenly took on new meaning.  These older, has-been hippies and their progressive, SDS comrades ruined our society.  The 1960s destroyed so much that was good and decent and successful and productive.  These baby-boomers were the counterculture revolution.  And now, here we are, with their descendants, their revolting progeny, the Occupy Wallstreet lowlife radicals who wish to take the torch from them and destroy our society even more than they could ever imagine.

It’s quite possible this woman is a woman just like my mom: incredibly sweet and goodhearted and extremely misguided and uninformed.  Unfortunately, many who are misinformed lean left.  They have to.  If they were better informed, they would lean right (and be right).

Oh, Mom, how I wish I could awake you from your childlike ignorance.  I once said to my father, “Dad, I love her, she’s my mom, but how are you married to this woman?”  He smiled and replied, “I love her so much, she can do whatever she wants.”

I guess that hippie, John Lennon, was right.  All you need is love.

I wait for my drink.  It takes them about 15 minutes to make the damn thing.  They’re always slammed on Saturdays.  The place is overflowing with beautiful trendy people; men with scruffy facial hair; thin, tall women who drink soy and eat egg whites; their little boys with hair down to their shoulders who have names like Fin; expensive clothes that have just enough of that “I don’t care what I look like, I just threw this on” look.

I stand off to the side, trying to stay out of the way of the 50 Hispanic baristas whirling around with plates of food and perfectly frothing cappuccinos, the foam expertly crafted into the shape of a leaf or the occasional swan.  I catch a glimpse of the large bulletin board covered in business cards and flyers.  I walk over to get a closer look.  I gaze over the board, the corners of my mouth upturned, looking as though I had been told some fantastic joke that only I knew the punch line to.  But it is a fantastic joke.

Only in Los Angeles, perhaps the most spiritually progressive yet exquisitely stylish location in the world, where they do full body cleanses, read tarot cards, play with crystals, where there is a yoga studio on every corner, only there, would you find adds for (and I quote):

Essential Massage

Transformational Workshop and Retreat

Model, Actor, on Camera Media Couching and TV Hosting Intensive

Certified Advanced Clear Light Healer

Soul Memory Practitioner

Indigo Healer

Herbalist

Angel Therapy Practitioner

It amazes me that not only do these professions exist, and in ridiculous abundance, but people actually pay for these services.  Dwindling economy?  Unemployment?  No need to worry.  There is plenty of money to be made in this crazy city we call Los Angeles.  Just take some transcendental workshops, attend some spiritual retreats, get a degree in past life regression psychology, and you’ll be on your way to rolling in the dough (although it will be organic, gluten free, vegan dough).

What else can I say?  I live here.  I love it here.  Welcome to Los Angeles.

And why even bother paying the hundreds of dollars it must cost to rent one of these things when you probably spend less than an hour actually using it? All that money is being spent so a driver can wait for hours in a drugstore parking lot. Seems like a big waste to me.

A night out in Hollywood, complete with a monster limousine, overpriced Asian fusion gluten free organic vegan cuisine (or whatever the current trend may be), and bottle service at some fancy club that’s been open for a month and will close in another three, must cost over $1,200.

I’m all for capitalism but, sheesh! Is this really what our culture has come to? Can we please acknowledge that bigger isn’t always better?

I imagine a scene on an airplane–the sophisticated intellectuals sitting in their leather first class seats, discussing the plight of the “little guy” and how much they despise “tax cuts for the rich.”  Meanwhile, in coach, everyday folks, who work 9-5 jobs, love the military, and vote Republican, are squished together in their tiny seats, trying to watch their inflight movie while eating their five-dollar bag of pretzels.

Okay, maybe I’m simplifying things a bit here.  Not every first class flier is a Democrat and not everyone in coach is actually trying to watch the inflight movie.

My friend, a legal assistant, votes Republican.  Her boss, the big-shot attorney  who drives a Maserati, is a Democrat.

Back in 2004, each time I saw a bumper sticker in support of George Bush, it was on a pickup truck or a less-than-new, affordable car.  Every Kerry Edwards sticker, on the other hand, showed up on a Mercedes, Lexus, or Toyota Prius.

There is still a misconception out there that the Republican Party is the party of the rich.  Perhaps this myth exists because we have propagated the message that if you want to keep your own money, you’re a greedy, money-hungry aristocrat, but if you want to take other people’s money, you’re a compassionate and enlightened humanitarian.  (A humanitarian that sits in first class, drives a Maserati, lives in a wealthy, segregated area, and sends your kids to private school).

The ironic thing about my trip there this morning was that I probably looked like the most “liberal” person there, with my skinny black pants tucked into gray suede slouchy boots, white tank top, and exposed arm tattoos. Maybe I should reconsider my assumptions. Perhaps those trendy, pretty people sitting at the tables, with their green tea and organic fresh fruit, are all conservatives like me.

I grabbed my six-dollar Spanish Granita and began walking back to my car. I looked down and noticed the plastic cup I was holding. I stopped dead in my tracks and laughed loud enough to prompt all the nearby patrons to turn their heads and look in my direction.

I guess no one else found it funny.

Liberals care more about equality than liberty.  Non-liberals care more about liberty than equality.

So who, I ask, are the real liberals?