BRITISH MARXISTS: THE MOST EMBARRASSING OLD MEN ON EARTH
This isn’t an article debunking the alleged merits of Marxism or Communism: history has done that perfectly well.
Tens of millions murdered, desperate attempts to flee totalitarianism, and misery for those struggling under a ruling class of hypocrites, tells us all we need to know.
As for my own family, I’m so glad most of them got out of those oppressive regimes and headed West. Most of them. My Great Great Uncle was a member of a far-left Jewish group called the Bundists. The Bundists believed antisemitism would disappear through international socialism. When war broke out he went to communist Russia to find his utopia. He was put in a gulag for being a Jew and never seen again.
This trail of carnage coded into the DNA of communism is why it’s so clownish and absurd for small groups of Western dweebs to wave the flag for Marxist dictatorship. There was some kind of communist march in London this week. Covering their faces in red masks they chanted in support of history’s greatest mass murderers:
“Ho, Ho, Ho Chi Minh! Che Guevara! Stalin!”
Their intellectual decrepitude is surpassed only by their ability to chant like zombies. It’s an absolute cult. What’s embarrassing is they haven’t been press-ganged or drafted into an actual army. There’s no drill-sergeant. They’re engaging in total self-indoctrination, losing their individuality through hypnotic, repetitious group chanting. This loss of individuality is obviously what attracts them to totalitarianism. Marxists are tragic, inadequate people who can’t handle the responsibility of independent thought or personal decision making and so defer all of life’s complicated questions to one grand idea they mistakenly think will fix everything. They are adults who have been seduced by a fairytale of utopia. Even children know utopia does not exist. Children learn before they’re ten that if someone invites you into a house made of gingerbread - it’s probably got something pretty shit waiting inside. Marxists, apparently do not have the instinct, intuition, or life experiences of children.
Most of those marching in London are the young face of the British communist movement, (if you can call a handful of thirty year old nebbishes a movement or young). But one day they will grow up to be like the old men who groomed them. I don’t know what they’re like in your country, but starchy, old communist men are a real archetype here. They stink of trestle tables on the highstreet, sell the Socialist Worker, wear corduroy trousers, have an old plastic carrier bag with a sandwich and banana, pontificate endlessly to people who don’t want to be pontificated to, and use the word “comrade” unironically. They are strange men you want to avoid in the street and the pub.
These strange men made of dandruff worship other men made of starch: like Jeremy Corbyn and Ken Loach. Their main hobby when not speaking in a tannoy to a gathering of five people is telling Jews what to do. In fact, these starchy old men love telling all minorities who and what they are. It’s not just Jews they think they own. Look at this example of patronising white saviourism:
Britain’s hard left might think they’re anti-imperial but it stands to reason they’ve absorbed the haughty, arrogant racism of Britain’s colonial past. The idea that Black, Asian and Minority Ethnic people cannot actualise themselves and that it requires Jeremy Corbyn to civilise the natives so that they can emerge from their squalor is a pretty rank notion.
It’s understandable why such arrogance and bigotry exists though. British communists are nitwits who think that they alone have the key to solving life’s problems. But these privileged cosplaying revolutionaries are made up of 50% calcium, 30% cardboard, 15% mildew and 5% Billy Bragg. They’re the Dad’s Army of communism. If I was really speaking my mind I’d say they’re a soggy conglomeration of human detritus bound together by musty pages of Das Kapital and soaked in the fetid gussets of mouldy trousers stood at a trestle table and marinated in craft bitter farts whilst grooming the disinterested with talk of Marx.
Talking of which, there’s one thing I saw recently that I want to finish on. It might be the only time in my life I talk about graphic design. Check out this poster for a British Marxism festival being held in 2022:
I’m not a graphic designer but this is embarrassing and communicates what sad, old bores these men are. The poster utilises the aesthetic of The Sex Pistols album, Never Mind The Bollocks. This is old man imagery from 1977. That is FIFTY years ago. What is British Marxism today? Other than some dweebs chanting for mass murderers? British Marxism is a festival for old men, who think the old man music of the Sex Pistols and pink and yellow letters are going to destroy the system. That is the old, boring man, Socialist Worker vision of how to groom the youth. Above all, the photoshop skills of today’s communists are abysmal. At least their hero Stalin showed some innovation when removing murdered people from his photographs:
THANKS FOR READING. PLEASE SUBSCRIBE FOR FREE OR TREAT ME TO THE COST OF A COFFEE IF YOU’RE FEELING NICE