So, in last Wednesday's New York Times, Channing Joseph wrote a glowing piece
on a community center for communists - a place called Brecht Forum, where, "Smiles abound."
And when I mean a glowing piece, I mean, really glowing. Like a pregnant lady holding a nightlight made of kryptonite.
On the sun.
Anyway, Joseph describes these "revolutionaries" playing foosball, table tennis and even Marxist Monopoly.
Basically it's a "Dave and Busters" built on mass graves.
I know, small fact: Communists killed like 50 million people.
But, as Joseph shows: it doesn't mean its desciples can't have a little fun!
And despite existing only to gloss over the horrors of a wicked ideology, it is a "surprisingly open and idealistic place."
And - they play poker!
Now, I often judge writing not simply on an author's clumsy biases - but what I call "barf" moments. These are moments that occur, while reading- in which you actually throw up.
Here, there were a few.
But the two lines that buttoned up this F-U to humanity could turn even Stalin's stomach.
The writer spews:
While Mr. Balagun waved me out the front door, I imagined Marx's ghost floating in the hazy light of the evening, watching over the poker players. Behind his famous thicket of a beard, I could almost see a grin."
Now if you're imagining Marx's ghost, then I'm sure you can see his grin - not "almost" see it. I mean, you are imagining it.
Just like you imagined the rest of this loathsome crap.
Channing Joseph, congrats - you have created the first ever literary emetic. If a child is choking, simply read those two lines out loud. And stand back.
...and if you disagree with me, then you're a racist, homophobic communophobe.