It's that time of year for the holly-jolly guilt brigade.
The slouching centurions of the greedy-needy haunt passages into grocery stores, department stores and malls. The shibboleth for a smile of worthiness and guilt-free passage is money. Lots of money renders special status and a you-are-most-worthy thanks from the Dickensian sergeants.
I usually have little sympathy for my fellow Americans and their Quasimodo hump of altruism, but even I feel for these poor souls who must keep eyes street-ward upon approaching the jingling centurions with their hawkeyes of reproach. It's a pathetic scene to watch every day. How many of these citizens have already given to St. Jude's or the cleft-palates or the skin-and-bones of Africa at the local Wal-Mart or Kroger, and then they come upon yet another conscience-spur jingle?
The poor citizens must be thinking: "I already GAVE at another store. I wish you knew that. Maybe I should tell you I already gave. No, that would be selfish. I must give again. OK, I'll give again. Damn, how many times do I have to give. I wish they would just go away. No, that's selfish. I shouldn't think such thoughts. ... Maybe I'll do my shopping after midnight or online." When grocery stores have two entrances, guess which path is least taken?
I'm thankful to myself and Ayn Rand for who I am and my selfishness and guilt-free mind. I give only to The Ayn Rand Institute. When we (me, the Institute and other Objectivists) win freedom again, I might just drop a couple of bucks in the St. Jude can or help an innovative school charity. Hell, I'll be so fricking happy with my newfound freedom, I might even spend a few bills for Obamao's euthanasia.