George Washington, Karl Marx and Albert Einstein dropped by my place the other evening. I wasn’t expecting them, you understand – apparently, Karl and George had been on something of a bender, and Albert needed to bring them to a neutral place to sober them up so that they could return to their rightful place in history.
Three cups of coffee later, we were sitting around the kitchen table, searching for something to talk about. George looked faintly embarrassed and concentrated on playing with a small key. Karl was quietly humming to himself. Albert sipped his coffee thoughtfully.
Albert did everything thoughtfully.
So, Karl,” I enthusiastically tried to start the conversation, “what the heck is going on in Russia, there, eh? I’ll bet you were surprised to find them engaging in international trade, and even allowing a little limited entrepreneurship to get the economy going…”
Karl groaned.
“Umm, George,” I tried again, “what about that deficit? The United States is paying more for government now than the British could have dared hope to tax you out of, don’t you think?”
George grunted.
“Hey, what about those Jays?”
Everybody moaned.
“You’ll have to forgive them,” Albert thoughtfully apologized. “By the time I caught up with them, they had just closed down three bars and were in bad shape.”
“Hey, I understand,” I replied. “I was young, once, too, you know. Hey, George, what did you think of that Sean Penn, Madonna wedding? Was that a crazy media circus, or what?”
All of a sudden, George’s face took on a serious expression. “That wedding,” George somberly remarked, “may well turn out to be the most important event in the history of mankind.”
“Get out!” I exclaimed.
George looked at me over his bifocals. “Really,” he said. “You know, as the Declaration of Independence was being signed, I looked out over the countryside, hoping to see just one news helicopter flying overhead. Just one. But, of course, the helicopter hadn’t been invented yet…”
“Karl?” I asked. “Surely, you wouldn’t agree with that, would you?”
Karl swirled his coffee in his mug. “Actually, George may well be right. Think about it for a moment: political theories aren’t of any interest to the masses, and they seem to go in and out of style with intellectuals. Eventually, all political theories will end up on the scrap heap of history.
“But, the marriage of a musical icon with a movie star immediately became part of the lives of millions, perhaps hundreds of millions of people, was in the press for weeks and will likely become part of the collective consciousness of the human race for millennia to come. Madonna and Sean Penn are the vanguard of…something.”
I looked hopefully at Albert. “Albert,” I said, “help me out on this one, won’t you?”
Albert shrugged (but, with great thought). “Everything’s relative,” he told me.
“You see, my boy,” George explained, “politics no longer holds as much interest for the common man as your modern entertainment does…”
“Yes,” Karl added. “That’s why all your politicians are becoming more like entertainers than statesmen…”
“But…come on, buys,” I protested. “This Sean Penn, Madonna thing was a zoo. It was a personal, private affair that the media blew out of all proportion. They made the whole thing a farce, ruining it for the people who were there…”
Albert started to snicker. Karl and George looked at each other, and, before I knew it, the kitchen was filled with laughter. “Very funny,” I remarked, angry. “You intellectuals have a weird sense of humour, you know?”
“Hey,” George said between giggles and guffaws, “A body should not lose track of the little things that make life worth living.”
“Like humiliating one’s friends?” I asked.
“That’s one of the best,” Karl agreed.
“We really had you going,” George unnecessarily added. “Didn’t we?”
I didn’t respond. Kidders don’t usually like to be kidded. Soon, Albert caught my mood and asked the others: “Don’t you think it’s time to go?”
Karl was the first to answer. “Umm,” he said, calming down, “I guess I do have to get back to London and write about the whole Superstructure thing…”
George became pensive. “I seem to recall having left some invention or other on the drawing board,” he told me. “But, I like it here.”
Albert hustled them to the door. “I’ll make sure they get home safely,” he assured me. “Thanks for letting us use your home. I don’t know where else I could have taken them…”
“Don’t worry,” I said, managing a smile. “After all, every person should, if called upon, be willing to serve history.”
And, as quickly as they came, they were gone.