Plain words. 'Should I quit my job?' 'Buy the truck or save?' No essays required.
II.
Answer the hard questions
Four sharp questions through the lens of your philosophy. The ones you've been dodging.
III.
Take the verdict
A clear call, the reasoning, the tradeoffs — and what would have to change to flip it.
By the way
Bobby isn’t God.
He’s probably not smarter than you.
Maybe not better than you.
Possibly not stronger than you.
The name is a question. Not a commandment.
So what makes Bobby right?
Nothing automatically. Not his name, his confidence, or the fact that he built this thing. Advice earns your trust when the facts hold up, the reasoning makes sense, and it fits your life. Bobby can be wrong. Ayn Rand can be wrong. So can the AI. A confident answer is not proof.
Borrow the thinking. Not the whole person.
You don’t need to emulate Bobby, or turn a philosopher into a saint. Ask what they got right, what they missed, and what you would do differently. A useful idea doesn’t make its author flawless; a flawed life doesn’t settle whether an idea is true. Philosophy is a map to examine, not a person to worship.
And what about Ayn Rand’s own life?
“She died broke and friendless” isn’t an accurate account. Rand left an estate and retained close associates, though she also had painful, well-documented breaks with people close to her. But the question underneath is worth asking: would you want the life your role model actually lived? You can value reason and independence without copying someone’s conflicts or treating loneliness as the price of integrity.
Define what a good life means to you: meaningful work, financial stability, health, friendships, love. Test advice against those values. Look for evidence that could change your mind. When possible, try a small, reversible step before a big commitment. Then check what actually happened — and revise your approach. Being right in an argument is not the same as living well.