And Step On It!

Crystal meth vending machines: I'm okay with the idea. Back in the day, when I grew my hair down to my shoulders and struggled to get through The Communist Manifesto (all forty miserable, tedious, soul-crushing pages of it) I would have snorted and dismissed the idea. Now, even though I wouldn't use them myself, I don't think they would be such a bad idea.

Part of the credit (or blame) for this change of heart can be laid directly at the feet of P.J. O'Rourke. During my senior year of high school, I thought that he was funny, but there was no way his ideas could work in the real world. I still think he is funny, ten years later, and now I think he might be on to something with that whole unfettered capitalism thing. If it's one thing a Commie or a Christian hates, it is the idea that someone out there might be enjoying themselves.

All of which is a roundabout and extremely tangential way of saying that I'm really enjoying O'Rourke's latest book, Driving Like Crazy. Reading the introduction to his latest collection of articles, I remembered the reason why I was originally drawn to his work in the first place: he can argue, effectively, for ideas that I thought I would never seriously entertain. In this instance, that American automobiles are, or were, the best designed and engineered cars on the planet.

I don't know enough about cars to judge whether or not P.J. O'Rourke's arguments are correct. But that is really besides the point. It's nice to read authors with whom I agree. However, it takes a lot of talent to hold someone's interest when the author is writing about a subject the reader is unfamiliar with, and goes against what he thought was the commonly accepted wisdom on the subject.

Thanks to recent advances in medical treatment, I'm sure I'll be enjoying O'Rourke's cheerful brand of iconoclasm for years to come. And despite his answer to my question about his plans to write a memoir about his days at The National Lampoon, I'll keep my fingers crossed and hope he changes his mind about that firm "No" he gave me.

As for Karl Marx: you, sir, can go suck it.