Literal communists are cackling with glee at what is happening in France, openly declaring that they seek to destroy our civilization.
They won't build anything in its place, of course, because destroying is all they do.
That reminded me of Karl Marx's poetry.
Murray Rothbard quoted from Marx's poems in his book Classical Economics. Rothbard was unconvinced by those who say these poems were the products of a youthful Marx, and of no significance in understanding the man.
Thus:
… Worlds I would destroy forever,
Since I can create no world;
Since my call they notice never …
and:
Then I will be able to walk triumphantly,
Like a god, through the ruins of their kingdom.
Every word of mine is fire and action.
My breast is equal to that of the Creator.
and:
I shall build my throne high overhead
Cold, tremendous shall its summit be.
For its bulwark — superstitious dread
For its marshal — blackest agony.
and:
See this sword?
the prince of darkness
Sold it to me.
and:
With Satan I have struck my deal,
He chalks the signs, beats time for me
I play the death march fast and free.
What else do we notice about Marx?
He was a notorious moocher.
Here he is writing to his friend Friedrich Engels, whose wife has just died. Marx acknowledges this in two sentences, and then proceeds to his sob story:
The news of Mary’s death surprised no less than it dismayed me. She was so good-natured, witty and closely attached to you.
The devil alone knows why nothing but ill-luck should dog everyone in our circle just now. I no longer know which way to turn either. My attempts to raise money in France and Germany have come to nought, and it might, of course, have been foreseen that £15 couldn’t help me to stem the avalanche for more than a couple of weeks. Aside from the fact that no one will let us have anything on credit -- save for the butcher and baker -- which will also cease at the end of this week -- I am being dunned for the school fees, the rent, and by the whole gang of them. Those who got a few pounds on account cunningly pocketed them, only to fall upon me with redoubled vigour. On top of that, the children have no clothes or shoes in which to go out. In short, all hell is let loose....
It got to the point that his father had to scold him for this quality:
Frankly speaking, my dear Karl, I do not like this modern word, which all weaklings use to cloak their feelings when they quarrel with the world because they do not possess, without labour or trouble, well-furnished palaces with vast sums of money and elegant carriages. This embitterment disgusts me and you are the last person from whom I would expect it. What grounds can you have for it? Has not everything smiled on you ever since your cradle? Has not nature endowed you with magnificent talents? Have not your parents lavished affection on you? Have you ever up to now been unable to satisfy your reasonable wishes?
Think about this man: bitter and resentful that unlike the Creator, he can build no world -- so he will tear them down.
Then all he can do is demand that his dear friend send him money, just as that friend's wife has died.
(Not to mention a complete lack of understanding of how anything works, and conceptual confusion from the very foundations of his writing.)
It would be easy, if tragic, for frustrated young people in the U.S. to fall into a Marx-inspired nihilistic anger at the world.
Better than that is to ditch the advice their guidance counselor is going to give them (go $200,000 in debt and hope for the best) and try something else.
I can assure you that little Henry Woods, who turned 10 months old yesterday, is going to forge his own path.
How about a career apprenticeship that ends with a guaranteed job offer?
Step one is the Incubate program. Take 30% off with code WOODS:
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