My new book about the seriously cancerous life and personality of Karl Marx is out this week.
Get "Karl Marx Never Bathed" here.
Or enjoy this excerpt:
Introduction - The Setting For This Book
A zombie is haunting the world — the zombie of communism. All the powers of good old fashioned Reason and basic Science have entered into a holy alliance to finally put this zombie back in the grave where it belongs.
But we just can’t seem to get through to the brainless, undead monster that refuses to die, despite the wreckage of a century with half the world living under the nightmare of mass murder, police state repression, forced labor camps, and millions upon millions of starving people, dead because of the fatal conceit of violent bureaucrats who couldn’t manage their way out of a paper bag much less the complexity of industries like farming and manufacturing that require specialized knowledge and you know, price signals to help them allocate resources effectively.
Are you still with me?
Hey! Who are you going to listen to? The actual farmer who knows how to farm, or the guy with a uniform and a rifle telling you Khrushchev says we’re planting corn this year? Yeah I’m going to listen to the rifle guy too. And that’s why we’re all going to starve if this madness is allowed into the West.
Why This Book Now?
The nightmare of 20th century communism didn’t start in the 20th century with political revolutions.
It started in the 19th century with a snotty, privileged, educated, upper-middle class intellectual kid, who despite all his advantages in life, turned out very rotten.
Karl Marx, the bitter, disenchanted, life-hating sourpuss of the human spirit, a truly malformed mind and a nasty human being. I mean nasty literally, as you will see in the following essays. He was literally, physically disgusting.
The man wanted to restructure the entire economic order of the world, but he couldn’t even take care of his own body. He barely ever even took a bath.
Karl Marx was the original SJW (Social Justice Warrior) in just about every sense of the word.
Today universities abound with these SJWs, despicably arrogant know-nothings with a proud and stubborn detachment from the lessons of history, an unwillingness to investigate beyond the hollow ringing of their shouted political slogans, bitter and raging, boiling over with seething contempt, while cradled in the 21st century, first world paradise: the safest, cleanest, healthiest, most comfortable, and most fun conditions any human being has ever enjoyed.
And these self-described “Social Justice Warriors” are screaming for the destruction of everything that made it possible. And anticipating with fevered passion the return and enshrinement of their most despicable god, the idol of socialism, the cold, red god with indifferent staring eyes who grinds human bodies and souls in its cold teeth by the millions.
And they shout down every opposition to their views. So thin-skinned are they, so tightly closed are their minds, so viciously dogmatic are they, that they cannot even bear to hear anything that might suggest they should reexamine their beliefs, these kids. These youths who have never worked a day in their lives, who have not yet had any responsibility, who have so far produced nothing of value to the world, who have only consumed their fat share of modern capitalism’s many blessings and squawked their rude complaints, these crybabies.
They are so sensitive, they whither into an inarticulate rage at the slightest challenge to their jealously guarded religion of death. One can only imagine how seething their hatred would be for anyone who dared to notice and criticize a personal flaw in one of them. Undoubtedly many of these angry kids who, like Karl Marx, would change the entire global economic system if they could get their soft, fumbling hands on it, probably cannot even keep their own bedroom clean, or the skin behind their ears.
They are so childish. But not childish and jovial, brimming with wonder and positivity as actual children are. Nor are they childish and sad when something doesn’t go their way, but quick to forgive and forget, holding no grudges, instantly happy again at some new wonder that has caught their attention and laughing through their tears already.
No these “Social Justice Warriors” are childishly stubborn, childishly unreasonable, childishly short-sighted, childishly naive, childishly inconsiderate, childishly incapable of sympathizing with or even conceiving of another person’s point of view, childishly foolish. But never are they jovial. Never playful. Never inspired. Always sour, these sourpusses. Always upset at something.
You’ve got feminists complaining that men are oppressing women by sitting with their legs too far apart on the subway, or by ever explaining anything to a woman. You’ve got faculty members at Temple University in Pennsylvania saying that math is racist and professors at Portland State in Oregon saying that math exploits people and the environment. You’ve got a PhD dissertation at the University of California about how selling Girl Scout cookies manipulates girls into supporting market capitalism.
You’ve got academic journals publishing studies that complain about farmers markets being too white and that Pilates is racist. You’ve got a professor at Wagner College in New York saying that in modern America women are treated like cows. The paper is entitled, “The Parallel Lives of Women and Cows: Meat Markets.” You’ve got a professor at the University of Victoria in British Columbia getting paid a salary to write an academic paper called: “Hobosexual - Resisting capitalism by having not-for-profit sex with homeless people.”
Is this not the kookiest stuff you’ve ever heard of?
Get "Karl Marx Never Bathed" here.
