Excerpts from: The Journals Of A 21st Century Schizoid Man
This book is a fictional novel;
This book is a fictional novel;
Max
Stalin and his toy Guillotine
This
is the story of Maxwell the Stalinist. Max likes Country Joe Stalin and he has
no problem with leaders who commit mass murder. Max is one of the only
Marxist-Leninists here in Wichita that I know. He’s a short thin fellow with thinning brown
hair. He is probably about 10 years younger than I am.
“That
guy just creeps me out,” said Phaedra after she
first met him at his home. Max lives in a working class neighborhood in a
fairly-nice green-wooden house that he rents. He actually has a model of a
Guillotine from the French Revolution that they used to sell along with such
monster models as Frankenstein and Dracula, back in the 1960s. It sat on his
fireplace mantel, along with his other collectables. We often sat in his front
room, on one of his two couches, drank beer, which we set on his coffee table
and discussed various politics.
“Well you have to take what he says with a grain of salt,” I
replied. “I think he says things he really doesn’t mean.
“Since
the 1960s, after World War II, the US set out to destroy any credibility to the
new socialist governments of Asia,” Max said the first day Phaedra met him, at
his home. “Their idea was to do whatever
they could get Americans to think of Mao Zedong, Joseph Stalin, Kim Il Sung and
later, Pol Pot as nothing more than mass murderers.
….But
here is this thing. Any leader who kills a lot of people is probably getting
rid of a lot of scum—people that no one really wants around anyway. I have
little doubt that some people deserve to be dragged into the street and shot in
the head. Consider what it would be like to do that to Sam Brownback?”
He
sure had a point there. Since his first term as Governor, Brownback has
destroyed our public educational system, our health care system for the poor
and disabled, he’s run our economy into the ground and he has hindered my
ability to even get decent work. Heck—I’d like to see him shot and then hung
upside down from a Kwick Shop the way they did Benito Mussolini and his mistress after they had
been shot, so that passers-by could spit on them. I could really get into that.
I have to admit, I really hate that bastard Brownback. But Phaedra found little to like about all of that.
“I really don’t like
murders per say, but some people just need to be gotten rid of,” Max said.
“Consider David and Charles Koch. Wouldn’t it be great if we could take those
bastards out and just shoot them in the head?”
For
the record, I really don’t want to kill the Koch Brothers. I’m not really
violent or cruel person, but we all have our darker dreams, and finishing off
the Koch brothers is one of mine. I would love to see David and Charles Koch
dragged out in the street and shot in public. They continuously try to buy
elections and destroy what little democracy we have left in this country. Their
money should be redistributed to where it is needed.
“And
while you’re at it, why not Brownback’s personal punk from Wichita; Kansas
Representative Mike O’Connally,” I added in. “And don’t forget our lousy Kansas
Secretary of State Kris Kobach.”
It didn’t take me long to find myself swept up in the “let
just kill’em all” fantasy.
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