RX: "Who scrubs the toilets in Galt's Gulch?"
Me: "I dunno, I guess you scrub your own toilet. Or pay somebody to do it for you."
RX: "You mean there wasn't a genius toilet scrubber who turned his back on the world?"
Me: "That's going on the internets."
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Every time an indigent female railroad tycoon blunders into the magic ray screen thingie and crashes into Galt's Gulch, there's a run on her domestic services until she inevitably rises in wealth and crushes them all under her dominant heel. But till then, boy, there's some clean-ass toilets in Galt's Gulch.
It's all explained in the deleted scenes.
But till then, boy, there's some clean ass-toilets in Galt's Gulch.
FTFY, xkcd-style.
Of course, at a certain level of ultra coolness, one can turn one's own feces into other substances at will. Where do you think the secret ingredient for Rearden metal comes from?
Kohler has been making self cleaning crappers for years, they're just not cheap, or pretty.
Toilets in Galt's Gultch use 37 gallons of water per flush at 533 psi. The bowls have to be made from Reardon Metal® to take the strain.
They don't NEED cleaned.
Sadly, everyone in the gultch dies two years after the end of the novel when they all contract a horrible disease from unsanitized telephone handsets.
"FTFY, xkcd-style."
Didn't really change the meaning much. Ass-toilet is kind of redundant.
Maybe the kids do it. Like mowing laws, taking out the garbage, or selling lemonade.
Though best to wash your hands before the last one. It's not like they'd shy from child labor.
As a TV-Wookie has been known to say; "Child labor laws are ruining this country."
Yes there is a genius toilet scrubber, Stanley Spadowski.
Stanley!
Yeah, but he was ruined for the art after he got his own TV show. That's what I've heard, anyway...
Seriously though: It's been a number of years since I read the book, but as I recall it wasn't wealth as such that qualified you for admission. Talent of any sort is what got you in. There would probably be any number of artists who scrubbed toilets by day, and composed in their particular medium by night.
Actually, his mop ran away with an alien scientist and poor Stanley died of a broken heart. He was found face down in an oatmeal put with a marble in his hand
Life is like a mop
Sounds like a sequel, "ATLAS SHAT".
I've finally read far enough to get that one! She could have taken a few words out of that book.
She could have taken a few words out of that book.
Would that she had blotted out a [few] thousand!
azmountaintroll is closest. I'd think some enterprising soul would start a toilet cleaning business, would work very hard, do a superb job and make a nice living for themselves doing so. As long as they believed in capitalism and only took gold in payment, they'd be welcome in Galt's Gultch.
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