Back away slowly There's an old Far Side cartoon, the caption of which says something like "How nature signals 'stay away.'" It shows all manner of animals in threatening poses, except for the picture of the human in the clown suit, inner tube, and other absurdist paraphernalia.
That's how I feel about this license plate. When you're young and stupid, Lazarus Long is about as admirable a role model as Hank Reardon, Dagny Taggart, or Howard Roark. I don't say that with much venom: sometimes a clear authoritarian message dolled up in anti-authoritarian blather helps a young person power through their own stupidity and make it to adulthood alive.
But just as, eventually, you begin to see just how creepy the whole Randian enterprise is, so too must the mature reader come to the hope and prayer that Long wasn't some Mary Sue for Bob Heinlein. The nihilistic narcissim of cloning your own sex-changed twins and then sleeping with them only shows just how far along poor old Bob was into the kind of angsty loss-of-vitality story that so plagued the later fiction of Bellow, Updike, and other writers who wrote through that national quasi-male-menopausal period known as "the 70s." Ultimately, Lazarus Long deserves to be left behind.
I used to think something like this was hot. Now I know better.