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I finished Chariots of the Gods?, by Erich von Däniken, today. Sweet mother of Clinton this is an inane book. The premise is that all myths about gods visiting humans are referring to visits from aliens. I can't even begin to describe how blatant his errors in simple archaeological facts are. And then there are the gaping holes in his logic. How anyone can read this and take it seriously is quite beyond my comprehension. I suppose it's telling that the bulk of the book is spent decrying the close-mindedness of the establishment, and it's only as an afterthought that he remembers to try to provide any evidence for his theory. I can't even call it a theory, though, because that implies it has a basis in something. The only basis von Däniken has is the assumed colossal unimaginative stupidity of ancient people.

Then I started Atlas Shrugged. And I actually like it. I'd been warned that Rand's writing was horribly dense and melodramatic, but the story has flowed along quite well so far. The glorification of ruthless capitalism is painfully obvious, so there's a possibility that I may get tired of that after several hundred more pages. And I find myself barracking for James Taggart instead of Dagny, even though I know Dagny is supposed to be the heroine. We'll see how it goes. I need to stay focussed so I can read AS and still have time to read Inferno before school starts again. I mean, no matter how great Ayn Rand is, how can she compete with diagrams of Hell?


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