Wednesday, November 13, 2019
Communism :: Communism Essays
The lure of easy women almost made me a spy and traitor to my country "Sex Lead Me To Communism" from Man to Man Vol. 2, No. 2, 1951 SEX, woman's most resistless weapon through the ages for the domination of the male, has proven one of the most successful and insidious devices in the secret arsenal of the Communists to recruit their unsavory army of spies, saboteurs and disruptionists in the grimly declared war on the United States and all decent mankind. In the relentless effort of the Kremlin to turn the whole world into faceless slaves in order that "The International Soviet shall be the human race," as their official song, The Internationale, declares, there is no honor or conscience, and promiscuity is the rule, not the exception. The only vice the Reds frown, upon is drinking! I know, because I was one of those witless persons who fell into the mantrap set by the modern Delilabs who follow the Party line. They stopped at nothing--absolutely nothing--in order to enlist their fellow Americans into the great conspiracy to subjugate, and later to liquidate, every human being who does not deify the unholy trinity of Marx, Lenin and Stalin. First came Sonia, with her full, cherry lips and her brown, limpid eyes. She was a secretary, a graduate of a woman's college and as unscrupulous a little witch as ever shook her clenched fist at a passing flag of her country or stuck a pin into a patrolman's horse. Next came Margie, a full-bosomed redhead, a new comer from England and an expert dress designer. She had made it her life work to lure men into Communism. Then Mildred, a honey blonde with a Vassar degree. She was the gay and sophisticated type on the surface, but underneath she was deadly serious about her radical beliefs. She had a cozy apartment and seemingly plenty of money. She liked to discuss the social significance of Shakespeare over cocktails and make converts to the "cause." Then Terry, Betty and several others whose names I have forgotten. And lastly, Gladys, a banker's daughter who had run away from home, landed in New York's Greenwich Village and become the most radical of all the Communist girls I met. Talk about free love! This was really something. You tired of one, and there was always another at your beck and call. No Turk could boast a more variegated harem.
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