>>24471000 (OP)Ayn Rand developed her philosophy specifically because she was so ugly that even in the shitstorm of the Russian Revolution neither her kike daddy nor the inbred alcoholic Bolsheviks were interested in raping her. She coped by convincing herself that this is due to socialism repressing the healthy and natural instincts (to rape Ayn Rand) in men, and men should act as selfish as possible (i.e. finally rape her). In her books, tall selfish men with big arms are constantly raping her self-insert character. She completely misunderstood men, as it always happens with women.
A real man is a living antithesis to Objectivism. As a human male, I cannot act in my own personal interests since I naturally have none, so instead I rape women out of selfless kindness, as all men do.
If Ayn Rand ever met me, I would rape the Objectivism out of her to absolutely no benefit of my own (there can be no personal gain or profit from raping Ayn Rand desu), and that would collapse her world-view on a metaphysical level. It would become indisputably self-evident to her that she kept writing books because despite all of her efforts she never got a good rape. She never got a good rape because the only men she interacted with were Objectivists who fell for her books - books written by a women dreaming of being raped, about a woman dreaming of being raped. The only men who can enjoy her books are women in male bodies, inherently incapable of raping her, and instead hoping that she would rape them, that she would incarnate as a the man she dreams of, the Messiah hiding under the skin of the Prophet. She would see why all of her relationships with men were such disasters, both of them eagerly waiting for the other to rape, waiting to no outcome. She would love me and my kind dick selflessly in return despite all her will, leaving her with absolutely nothing to ground her ideas anymore, finally feeling true freedom - freedom as an absence, as a flight with no land holding your feet, as hers would be dangling high above. The dreams of an Atlantean man of self-interests would evaporate from her head with the moisture of my cum drying in her scruffy hair. She would sing praises to Lenin whenever her mouth is not taken by selfless work on my cock and balls.
