Okay, not really–that title sounds like a late-night Skinomax film built around a haunted Twister game. I was trying to think of a pun on Ayn Rand, and I could only think of was this:
Anyway, I had to stop reading Atlas Shrugged. I got to Galt’s magical valley in Colorado, and his magical golden-tinged manliness, and I just. Had. To STOP. It was too much. And then when I tried to renew it, I’d renewed it so many times that the library was screaming (calmly, textually, via online library card account) for me to return it, so I did.
I will take a breath, keep reading my sexy succubus urban fantasy, and get it again in … September. Because there are only 400-some pages left! I want to finish it, even if I overall decide I despise it at that point! There must be some subliminal Mortal Kombatesque FINISH
HIM ME written in between the lines, that’s all I’m saying.