I have this uncle. He is a typical Marxist hippy from the 70's. When I say 'elderly hippy' this guy's face comes to your mind whether you have met him or not, whether you know it is him or not. He is a throwback to a time when pseudo-knowledge and something I have come to call big-wordism were rampant and appreciated. The appreciation came from being blinded to what was going on, not by the actual value of the intellect.
He ran away to Japan. Married a woman who speaks very little English. I assume this why the relationship works. He came back for a visit. I was playing video games on my computer, living at my parent's house.
He started drinking Canadian beer as soon as he arrived. He kept on drinking them and asked about whether or not I was in law school. When I said I was studying English and Psychology he said I was wasting my fucking life. He then went to my bookshelf and began throwing books off.
He read the title, called it 'piss' or 'shit' or 'bourgeoisie' and threw it off the shelf. He asked me where my copy of 'The Manifesto' was. As though it were the only one ever written. He asked where my copy of 'Grundrisse' was. He was not happy to hear I didn't read them.
He grabbed Nietzsche's Beyond Good and Evil and said I was wasting my time with his reactionary garbage and then...insert drunk dramatic pause here...flipped the book from the shelf. By this time the pile on the ground was getting large. Then he did the unthinkable. He grabbed my copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray and asked me what value this 'shit' had. I told him it was a 'good read' and left it at that, he was in no shape to debate beauty and art especially against the youthful fury of my teeming brain, to borrow from Keats's poetry which I related to in my teenage years.
Big surprise coming: he said 'this is upper class nonsense' and threw it on the ground. That was my breaking point. I had a few options. 1-engage in intellectual battle, 2-break his jaw, 3-leave. Option 1 was out of the question, someone like him and especially someone in that state is not about to engage in any kind of productive anything. Option 2 I skipped for my mother's sake, and his wife and daughter's sake, in that order. Option 3 was me leaving. I saved his jaw and my time that day.
That was my formal introduction to Marx. I am afraid that if Marx could see one of his biggest fans in action he would not be pleased. This uncle eventually sent me a broken English letter from Japan explaining that he had never actually read Oscar Wilde but had heard a rumour that he once named a middle or lower class character with an upper class name and was horrified to realize his mistake. I guess it is rather easy to dupe the Japanese university system into thinking you will be of value to them.
Nothing of value can come from engaging this man. I'm sure a family member will send him the link to this blog. I'd enjoy that actually. Ignite that long burned out candle he thinks is capitalist-destroying comet. My ego is not so weak and feeble that I need to prove myself over him. But I do like to poke, make sure I've still got it.
Here is a video clip of the type of person who wins in this world, the type of person who my uncle would hate, the type of person my uncle is up against and woefully unprepared for. Sorry, Capitalism wins. I wish it hadn't. I wish it had better opponents. I really do like milkshakes.
No comments:
Post a Comment