You won’t find folks more asinine
Than those who spout the Party Line.
Yes, I know there aren’t many
Left among us, and if any
Still defend that Marxist theory
They must be getting pretty weary.
For left-wing hopes were torn asunder
When the Old Red Bitch went under
(I mean the goddamned Soviet State,
Spawned by war and hatched in hate,
An apparatus for mass slaughter,
Lenin’s psychopathic daughter).
Thank God for Gorby’s perestroika—
It wrenched apart the deadly troika
Of Russia, Reds, and World Revolt
That threatened with a nuclear bolt.
The USSR fell apart,
Sclerotic in its cankered heart,
And just a few hard-line fanatics
With cobwebs in their mental attics
Continue quoting Marxist tracts
And justifying Stalin’s acts.
The Russians are now sane again—
They’ve come back to the world of men,
Rejected messianic dreams,
And given up subversive schemes.
They showed how one determined kick’ll
Smash the hammer and the sickle.
They’ve set free all their satellites
And granted people human rights;
Saint Petersburg has its old name
And commissars are put to shame.
Who, then, are these leftist scum
Still beating on the Marxist drum?
In Berkeley or in Cambridge, Mass.
You frequently will meet some ass
Who praises Lenin’s worthiness,
Thinks socialism a success,
And gulags and the KGB
Were but a grim necessity
To keep alive some sacred flame,
And Stalin’s purges did the same.
Some jerk who hasn’t seen a barber,
Matriculated in Ann Arbor,
Will gas about the Marxist “vision”—
To him, the whole thing was Elysian:
Collective farms were just idyllic
With massive posters in Cyrillic;
We all said “Comrade” to each other
And treated each man as a brother;
We armed the proletariat
To seize the world and carry it
Into a brand-new kind of life
Released from pain and selfish strife.
What a sick, pathetic bunch!
It makes you want to lose your lunch
To hear some twerp in Poli-Sci
With frenzied fire in his eye
Drone on about “The Revolution,”
How it’s the one sure-fire solution
To our whole planet’s set of woes.
You’d think these little forlorn schmoes
Would wake up from their mental slumber.
Their views—archaic as the rumba—
No longer have much mass appeal,
For no one wants the rotten deal
That Communism had to offer.
We just want money in our coffer,
Privacy, and civil rights,
Productive days and peaceful nights,
Low taxes, and no peacetime draft,
A minimum of public graft,
Clean streets devoid of trash and rats,
And fewer useless bureaucrats.
That’s what folks want—nothing more.
The “Party Line” is just a bore.
And so, to all those leftist lice
I offer up some plain advice:
We don’t want dull May Day parades,
Or posturing on barricades,
Or exhortations to the masses,
Or lectures on the lower classes,
Or whining about surplus labor.
In fact, please do us one big favor—
Take your placards and your flyers,
Your pamphlets penned by left-wing liars,
Your workers’ paradisal bliss,
Your Rosenbergs and Alger Hiss,
Your Red Front and La Pasionara,
Your Castro and your Che Guevara,
Your Shining Path and Tupamaros,
Your Sandinistas and their sorrows,
Your soapbox and your turgid speeches,
Your socially committed screeches,
And shove them in a trash compactor.
Or better still, go buy a tractor,
And hop a freighter for East Asia
Where Marxists don’t yet have aphasia.
I’m sure that you will feel much freer
Plowing earth in North Korea.