Attribute to L. Neil Smith’s The Libertarian Enterprise

I’m going to blame this one on my cousin, Paul Poole.

I become obsessive. I think that’s why my wife hates it so much when I bring something new (to me) up to her. Y’see it means that I’m about to go ape crap in an attempt to get my greedy little hands on everything related to said new thing that I can. It’s a lifelong issue. When I was a kid, I was introduced to Heinlein, and spent every cent that I got for the next few years buying all of his books. As a teen, it was Led Zeppelin, and Valiant Comics. Many years, and dollars, later, I still have the LZ records, but very little of the Valiant. Things get traded or sold, to raise funds for the next obsession. It’s how I lost all of my Garth Ennis, and gained three shelves worth of Fantastic Four.

A few years ago—closer to a decade than not, and probably on the far side of it—my cousin, the aforementioned Paul D. Pool, suggested the Carl Barks Scrooge McDuck comics,and for the longest time I ignored this suggestion. I’ve always thought of Disney stuff as inferior, to be honest. They’ve let out very few movies during my lifetime that I could even stand to sit through once, let alone multiple times. Their many so-called contemporary classic (I’m looking at you, Lion King!) are, to me, completely unwatchable. To call them garbage would be an insult to the refuse that I bring out to my garbage man every Friday morning. The trash at least served a purpose at one time.

Then, a short while ago, I stumbled across a few of the books of The Carl Barks Library at my own local library, and decided to give them a shot. Dislike Disney as I do, I will be honest and admit that I have some fond memories of the Ducktales cartoon from the 80’s. In the spirit of that nostalgia, I picked up one of the books.

Lemme tell ya, folks: I’m very glad I did.

Aside from the incredible artwork and storytelling, what we have in Scrooge is an honest capitalist—in fact, one who is unapologetically so—who worked for every cent he has, and has zero time for freeloaders. There are no handouts, but at the same time, he prides himself on being square. For those of us who’ve read the stories, you know that bit: Smarter than the smarties, tougher than the toughies…

In modern America—I’d say “On modern earth,” but the rest of the world has always hated capitalists, so screw ‘em—folks are too ready to look at someone with money, and instantly see the fat cat, the thief, the one who got where they are on the backs of the little guy. While I’m sure that there are many (I’ve worked for a few of the pigs myself) who make it by any means necessary up to and including intentionally sticking it to the little guy, there are also those few with the intelligence, the integrity, and the grit to grab a job by the neck and get it done. The ones who earn every cent through blood, sweat, and tears. To drop the leaches in with the Atlases is sickening. It’s also discrimination, prejudice, and exactly the thing that Liberals and other Communists are supposed to be fighting against. By why stand on integrity from parasites that haven’t got any?

In modern media there are next to no role models for younger folks to look up to. Everyone (even in children’s programming and literature) is miserable, or shady in the extreme, heroes only when compared with the villains. While that works great for those of us who are fans of Judge Dredd, it’s not the kind of thing that we want our kids reading.

What is humanity’s problem with heroes? Time was they were something to aspire to, even if your grasp will never be far enough. Now they’re a source of scorn. The boy scout mentality is a thing of the past. Superman is dead. It’s just not right.

Though I refuse to let these things lye, to look back on a past that I remember as better than the here and now, because it’s not the past that my children have to live in, but a future that come hell or high water will be golden. We need to promote the idea to those that follow us that honor, integrity, heroism aren’t just lost ideals, that they’re alive and well in all of them. We need to teach them to stand up, to look the buggers in the face, and say, “Not today, thanks.”

But, I wander. My mind gets off on these tangents, rants on about things that I’m told don’t matter, when I know down in my marrow that they do. I’m far from perfect. I’m lazier than is good for me, and I hold grudges like they’re life preservers. I need to work on these. I look at my children and see an inspiration, to not just continue with the status quo, but to aim for more. To be the kind of upstanding bugger that they need me to be. I’m never going to be rich, and I’m getting too old to be an adventurer, but that doesn’t matter. For my kids I can be anything they need me to be.

Philosophical meanderings aside, I do owe a word of thanks to my cousin for insisting a decade or more ago that I give these little stories a shot. They’ve entertained me, and more, they’ve entertained a ten year old girl who still looks up to me like I’m cool. It won’t be long before she sees through the golden armor that she imagines I wear and sees the nerdy little man that I am. Until that day, though, I will be what I can, and will do what I can, and will share in adventures with her, even if by proxy, following around a cartoon duck.