Looking around all that I survey, I stumble into a vast plain of ignorance. I am told that Cultural Marxism is either the fount of all evil or the head waters of all that is good, decent, and long division. Therefore I sought to research this phenom, and after receiving instruction from my aged and learned father I embarked to my comfy chair to take in the principals of this culture. I bring now to you my findings.
Cultural Marxism tends to thrive in high society. It prefers to spread it’s brand of chaos among those cultural elites for whom tuxedos, monocles, long satin gowns, and pearls for clutching were made. Large mansions are where it is most at home but failing that, opera houses, high end department stores, circuses, college campuses, and even in a pinch hijacked locomotive will do. It also enjoys the company of wealthy older women, beautiful young women, and easily caricatured villains. The Cultural Marxist lives to infiltrate these bastions of the elite and reveal hypocrisy and snobbery at every level, and by any means possible. They also seek to dismantle structures of what they consider unjust power. Their aim has historically been broad and occasionally the innocent are swept up in the onslaught. Typically the more pointed attacks are reserved for mustachioed men who prefer well tailored suits.
There is a strong anarchist temperament. Though always pursuing positions of power, influence, and wealth, chaos theory reigns. In point of fact there is no better demonstration of chaos theory than in this Cultural Marxism. Even for all of it’s visible random impulses a cohesive structure always emerges. A balance is always struck between, dare I say it, zany antics and the alteration of power structures. It is obvious form my viewings, that in any instance when any of the pursued power, influence, or monies are granted to the Cultural Marxist, chaos inevitably follows but now on an even grander scale. In one particular instance two entire nations were brought into war with one another, and even then the leadership seemed more interested in women, food, and costumes. In an uncharacteristic moment of attempted bravery, failure resulted as the Marxist mistakenly fired on his own troops. Say what you will, the consistency of these men to adhere strictly to their principals of chaos and anarchy is admirable. Even amongst themselves there is always an element of off kilter oneupmanship. This can include, the use of everything from simple noise makers up through the use of firearms.
Theft is perhaps one of the most consistent themes of the Cultural Marxist. Specifically from the wealthy and upper classes. They are jealous for any item they do not personally possess. Even things that are literally nailed down are not safe. I have observed the robbery of paintings, sports equipment, money, land from railroads, entire cases of silver serving utensils, dolls, symphony orchestras, state secrets, and one instance involving the kidnapping of a prestigious tenor. What gets stolen, and how seems to depend on the man himself; but each seems to have a particular penchant all his own. Yet when assembled the larger the group the more theft, destruction, and chaos ensues. What is then done with this confiscated property is either left to the imagination or funneled back into the grander anarchist scheme.
Compassion for the underdog is a redeeming value of the Cultural Marxist. Wether it is an entity as large as Huxley College, a star crossed lover, or even a humble lemonade stand operator, so long as there is a bigger bully type the Cultural Marxist rises to the occasion. It seems fairly obvious that the methods involved in bringing about a happy resolution frequently cause more destruction than would ever be called for by a sane rational person, but this observation would do nothing to sway them. However, typically all is forgiven by the public under the, “their heart was in the right place” view.
With one noticeable exception, the adherents of Cultural Marxism reject logic, and speak incessant gibberish, all while assuming that the failure to understand is the fault of the weary world. Sometimes simple fact is met with silence or an insulting sounding whistle. Frequently sarcasm is treated as a second language, that sounds almost like Italian. I will cite an example from one of their occasional thought leaders:
“Here I am, talking of parties. I came down here for a party. What happens? Nothing. Not even ice cream. The gods look down and laugh. This would be a better world for children, if the parents had to eat the spinach.” – Julius Henry Marx
There is a perverse sense to this strange interlude, yet still I find that it fails to address the current situation. There is also a deep love of juvenile double entendre most often employed to move the direction of a conversation three or five topics away from the original point.
Most bizarrely perhaps is the Cultural Marxist’s penchant for musical interlude. Often classical, with an up tempo twist, or sometimes the actual performance of a song. There typically comes a moment when things seem to slow down and an instrument is discovered and must be played. Frequently this is a piano or harp, though a guitar has not been unknown to make an appearance. If an entire orchestra can be brought into the performance all the better, seems to be the prevailing thought. Lacking actual instruments has never seemed to be an obstacle. On a Native American reservation a group was observed using bull horns still attached to a witch doctors head and even a loom to substitute an harp. Granted a wooden flute and horn were present but interest in them was quickly lost in favor of the more bizarre.
To a slightly, but only slightly, lesser extent dance is vital to the existence of the Cultural Marxist. Always spontaneous, and frequently startling, dance is to be expected. It may be simply one member of the group spastically flailing in a rhythmic manner, but flash mob style singing and dancing is a real preference. Recorded incidents have included several floors of a New York department store, the parliamentary chamber of a European nation, the installation ceremony for a college president, and most frequently at multiple high society gala’s.
The number of Cultural Marxists varies depending on the year. Early in the movement four seemed to be ideal. At one point there was a substitution but it seems no one noticed. Most recently the number has been three. And that is certainly enough for this trinity of chaos. Though each is different, the philosophy underlying the culture relies on this core. There is an instance when primarily there were only two but fortunately by the end the trifecta was made complete.
Finally, relative anonymity is vital to the Cultural Marxist. Many aliases have been taken up by this group: Captain Jeffery T. Spaulding (the T. is for Edgar), Professor Wagstaff, Otis B. Driftwood, Doctor Hugo Z. S. Quinten Quayle, Ravelli, Fiorello, Joe Panello, Wacky, Pinky, Rusty, The Professor. Yet all of these are simply cover on top of cover where they are better known simply as Groucho, Chico, Harpo, and sometimes Zeppo.
While I personally am hesitant to embrace this movement of Cultural Marxism, primarily because I just don’t have that kind of energy. I can appreciate it. These three (sometimes four, but actually five) brothers created a bizarre, delightful culture on the stage and screen that has not been achieved since. Their zany anarchy never failed to lift my spirits and frequently
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