Just in time, the very nick of time, for Canada Day! Okay, I'm ten days late (and I so wish I was a woman so I could put a joke in there), but we'll celebrate anyways.
And why not celebrate the Commie way? Today we have the Canadian Cultural Workers' Committee LP, "The Party Is the Most Precious Thing", a joyous ode to workers' struggles I guess, and why are all if not most of anything Communist weighed down with the extra-long names? It may have helped their cause(s) if they had short and pep working for them.
Anyways, where I live, there used to be a quite vibrant Communist community, which had regular meetings in a local cafe and maybe some marches and stuff. Plenty of flyers pasted up, too. Something happened, and it all went away. Maybe because the cafe closed?
Which is maybe good. A friend of mine went to a meeting once, and when she raised her hand during the question period and asked that, as an anarchist, if she didn't follow their Communist line when they eventually took the stronghold and replaced the current political thingie, she was answered with a nonchalant and very matter-of-fact "You would be killed.". So she left, because threats of a mortal nature never sat well with her.
Personally, I had (and still have) a t-shirt with Marx on it, over top of which is "WANTED", underneath being, "for crimes against humanity..." and it goes on a bit about some stuff he did or whatever. This being like 15-20 years back, and before I knew only a hint less about this communist stuff than I do now, I wore the thing with complete and utter ignorance. (I do this with a lot of things. It keeps the possibility of situations open to edginess.)
So I'm in the liquor store one day with this slap-in-the-face-to-Marxists on, and a woman says to me very loudly, "Actually, if you read early Marx, you'll find that he said a buncha neato stuff...", at which point my being-surprised-in-a-public-place-with-weird-confrontation psyche sort of fuzzed over her most likely very astute point, and answered her - after a few moments of gaping at her awaiting face - "Oh, this means the later obscure fuzzy-muffin Marx babble... " at which point I just let out a stream of nonsense at her, leaving a victim of my personal stupid-bomb behind looking at me like Lenin's head popped out of the back of my neck and gave her the razzberry.
So it was fun.
Anyways, here we go with ten tracks of Commie-folk-agenda! If I hear this blasting, I'll know you live on the Drive.