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Show Anting Alone Page 175 mysterious way with either Axelrad or one or another of Axelrad's pals, and it was one or another of Axelrad's pals who lashed out, all fists and claws and seething teeth. A brawl had begun. Sam began sort of half-unconsciously sidling up to this brawl, slowly - Now, where in hell did a languid, cuddly, physically indifferent person like Axelrad get such violent friends, who started bloody slash-and-burn brawls? Who were these Texans (or these Illinoisans) ? Where did they come from, and what was their connection with the youngish anthropologist? Let's take a moment here and see. Well, they all happened to be what Sam termed congenital Marxists: that is to say, they were born of Marxist parents who'd spent their Sunday afternoons running sno-cone booths at labor rallies, not playing in their private backyard with the kids; parents who dogmatically accepted Economics as the Sole Motivating Factor in the Universe, in the same slackjawed, unquestioning way that other people's parents with comparable intelligence but not so much education accept Christ for that big prime-moving double duty; materialistic Marxist parents, who necessarily reared these emotionally stunted congential Marxists devoid of the mystery and terror of religion or music, or even real sex. Concerned with vague revolution to the exclusion of everything else, Axelrad's Texan and Illinoisan friends were unable or unwilling to progess in their musical tastes beyond the blues (or da blooze, as they called it, |
