Picture a man, tattered coat flapping, rummaging through a dumpster in an alley. You wince, don’t you? That flicker of disgust ripples through your gut.
But hold on. Don’t judge him too harshly. He’s not much different from a stray dog, sniffing for scraps.
That’s not my line; it’s Albert Jay Nock’s, that old curmudgeonly godfather of the modern liberta…