Christmas Morning Marxism

I’ve mentioned this anecdote a few times, but I realised that I haven’t put it on this blog, even nine months later (christ, I’ve had a blog for nine months, whee, sweet, argh). I’ve told a few friends – for those of you who know where I’m going, tune out now, it’s just a rerun.

Christmas 2012, I was sitting in my parents’ back verandah space, watching over my cousins’ kids. Yes, I know this means for those of you who care about twitter accuracy, I have already lied; they are not my nephews, they are just my second cousins. Shocking, I know, but maybe that twist will keep you bearing up for the next part. Anyway, these three boys are all under the age of about ten, and they’re nice, outgoing, boisterous kids, who like sports and running and videogames. Crucially, they love Minecraft. They’re smart enough to know how to create some fairly sophisticated things in Minecraft, too – they talked to me about making mob grinders and some basic redstone circuitry.

The way young boys communicate when in social environments is a little like tumblr, where every single thing has to be The Best Ever, or every piece of information is introduced with superlatives and as if the listener may never have encountered it. I’m not particularly good at this method of communication, but I tried to speak to my nephews in their own native tongue. When a lull in the conversation started, I was planning on introducing the idea of the RS-NOR Latch, a piece of circuitry that can store a bit of information. I turned to the oldest of the three, and said, “Hey, you know what’s really cool?”

And he looked up at me, honest sincerity in his eyes, not a whit of guile, and responded, “Seizing the means of production?”

Fuck me, what has this kid been reading?

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