After The Gold Rush
If I were an underemployed and thoroughly self-entitled crank, I could write three Volumes of horrendously lugubrious prose and describe it as my theory of life, the universe and everything.* When not earnestly engaged with inseminating his domestic help, an underemployed and thoroughly self-entitled crank named Karl Marx did exactly that. He called this Volumes I – III of Kapital. Natter on for over 2,000 pages, and even a guy like Marx will bury an occasional intellectual ruby beneath the copious mounds of pony-poop.
In light of the “Gold-Apocalypse” occurring today on Wall Street, Marx’s plaint regarding Commodity Fetishism may well be worth donning a protective mask and digging out. It could as an explanation for why my full-bodied monies recovered from the 16th Century Spanish Galion just aren’t all that valuable any more.**
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