When I was in college, way back in the Pleistocene, I signed up for a Marxism class. But I flunked out. Well, actually I dropped out after a week. I was revved up to learn all about Marx and Engels and those bearded, radical dudes, but you know how dense that Marxist stuff can be. Sometimes you need a machete to cut through to the point of it all … the bourgeoisie this and the bourgeoisie that. And there are no laughs in it.
The bearded professor who taught the class seemed to think his job was to make the subject matter even more opaque. He was a glum sort who slunk in, mumbled off a dry lecture and slunk out. He never paused for questions or discussion. After two classes, I was hopelessly lost. It was obvious I needed to take Marxism for Dummies.
The same thing happened years later when I joined a Marxism discussion group. It was like commie Bible study. The guys who organized it batted back and forth references from Das Kapital like tennis pros. They never came up for air. Witnessing it all made me dizzy. So again, I quickly dropped out.
And yet I call myself a socialist. I can’t explain my socialist convictions by reciting chapter and verse from anyone’s manifesto. They aren’t drawn from ancient texts. They’re drawn from living 60-plus years as a cripple.
The best examples of socialism I see in the world around me are those situations in which we cut out the greedy pigs. For instance, how about parks and libraries? Their reason for being is not so some knucklehead can rake in money. Everyone can partake for free.<