Red Hysteria
My nickname for my period is Karl Marx. I think it demands that my femininity be taken seriously, especially in political circles.
One thing I never understood, when I was in grade school, was why we hated the communists. Reagan was president then; we were learning history. So much was dependent on the evils of communism, but nobody could explain it specifically. In Catholic school, explanations were frowned upon.
Every twenty-six or twenty-seven days Karl Marx comes over, and I ask him about it. "Karl," I say, pouring him a brandy, "Why do capitalists hate communists?" He pats my arm and calls me a clever girl. He stays for a week, eats everything in my refrigerator, drinks all my top-shelfliquor, but never answers the question. I suspect he doesn't take me seriously.
One thing I never understood, when I was in grade school, was why we hated the communists. Reagan was president then; we were learning history. So much was dependent on the evils of communism, but nobody could explain it specifically. In Catholic school, explanations were frowned upon.
Every twenty-six or twenty-seven days Karl Marx comes over, and I ask him about it. "Karl," I say, pouring him a brandy, "Why do capitalists hate communists?" He pats my arm and calls me a clever girl. He stays for a week, eats everything in my refrigerator, drinks all my top-shelfliquor, but never answers the question. I suspect he doesn't take me seriously.
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