It’s hard to find a more humorless bunch than a room full of Marxists. There’s the newspaper hawker variety, the kind of odd crypto-Stalinists cult members who think their paper will usher in the revolution. Then there are the hardcore academic Marxists. I encountered a few too many of those in a dark year of grad school at Northeastern. Your grade was based on your ability to think the “right” way. Extremism of any variety is such a bore.
But don’t give up — there is another kind of Marxism. And it’s a more fun that Trotsky drunk on tequila. I am a committed Groucho-ista. Groucho Marx was born on this day in 1890 (and it’s only a rumor that he was Karl’s grandson). Groucho and his brothers were my kind of Marxists.