karl marx

The Ultimate Embarrassment Befalls Karl Marx’s Grave

“Irony” is a peculiar word.  It’s misuse has given it some romantic mysticism in the English language that is usually reserved for local, colloquial greetings.

Stay with me here.  This will be worth it.

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Irony is defined very literally as:

The expression of one’s meaning by using language that normally signifies the opposite, typically for humorous or emphatic effect.

We see this a lot in modern, youth fashion.  The so-called “hipsters” and what have you.  They purposefully choose to wear the “mom jeans” and “uncool” throwback styles as if to say “I don’t know what’s cool”.  The irony is that they search for the “uncool” to “be cool”.

Hipsters like things ironically.  That’s the bottom line for our definitive purposes.

Then there’s irony in the all-too-often misuse of the word in which it becomes a synonym for “crappy luck.

Remember this?

Ms. Morissette completely misused “irony” throughout this entire song, and somehow she’s not embarrassed by that.  Perhaps there’s a translation error in there from her Native Canadian tongue into English.

I often wondered if we’d ever see a spectacle of delicious irony more ironic than a song called “Ironic” that never once uses irony.  Well folks, I’m here to tell you that that day has come.

If you’re an avowed communist, or leftist, or Democrat (but I repeat myself), and you’re making a trip across the pond to England, you might want to pay a tribute to your ideological hero: Karl Marx.

The German philosopher whose theory of Communism (applied clumsily) led to the deaths of tens of millions is buried in a private grave in the Highgate Cemetery in north London.

It’s quite a nice place, with a bust of the bearded man and his motto “Workers of All Lands Unite” inscribed on it.

The only problem is that if you want to pay a tribute to the man who ultimately believed in altruistic collectivism – the communal ownership of all property, you’re going to have to pay.

That’s right. The cemetery is private and it’ll cost you six bucks to get in.

This could not be more “meta” if it was written by Alfred Hitchcock.

The layers of unbelievable irony encapsulated in this reality are almost too much to even comprehend, but boy, is it fun trying.

Now, how do we relay this message to all of the people who paid $30 to own a Che Guevera shirt?

 

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