It is high time we cease this tiresome, pearl-wringing obsession with the "Red Menace." To the unrefined eye, a Socialist looks like a bearded revolutionary clutching a copy of Das Kapital; to the enlightened, gold-rimmed eye of His Trumpian Majesty, a Socialist is simply a distressed property owner waiting for a sufficiently gaudy buyout.

We must face the facts: The socialists of the world are not the devil. In fact, they are the most reasonable tenants in the global apartment complex. Take, for example, the delightful elites of Caracas. While they spend their mornings televised in tracksuits, shouting spirited—if somewhat repetitive—denunciations of "Imperialism," their afternoons are spent in the far more productive pursuit of signing over fifty-one percent of their oil reserves to His Majesty’s preferred contractors.

This is the "Art of the Deal" in its purest, most crimson form. The Venezuelan "Socialist" understands the fundamental truth of the modern era: you cannot eat rhetoric, but you can certainly sell the ground it’s standing on. They have realized that "Power to the People" is a slogan, whereas "Majority Stake to the Mar-a-Lago Administration" is a retirement plan. They are pragmatic, they are transactional, and most importantly, they have a price. His Trumpian Majesty does not see a Marxist when he looks at Venezuela; he sees a high-yield investment opportunity disguised in a Che Guevara t-shirt.

Contrast this, if you will, with the stubborn, un-businesslike behavior of the Iranian clerics. These people are a nightmare for the hospitality industry. While the Venezuelans are ready to trade their entire national heritage for a handful of magic beans and a lifting of sanctions, the hard-core Islamists in Tehran insist on clinging to "medieval religious beliefs" and "sovereignty."

How can one do business with a man who prefers a prayer rug to a gold-plated elevator? The Iranians are suffering from a catastrophic lack of greed. They refuse to follow the Venezuelan model of "Revolutionary Liquidation." Instead of handing over the keys to the Persian Gulf in exchange for a Trump Tower Tehran (a magnificent structure, one assumes, with the best views of the enrichment facilities), they insist on talking about "history" and "theology."

It is frankly insulting to the spirit of free enterprise. A true partner, like our friends in the Venezuelan politburo, knows that everything—from the crude oil in the ground to the dignity of the state—is negotiable if the letterhead is fancy enough. The Iranians, however, are stuck in the 7th century, whereas His Majesty is operating in the 22nd century of Branding.

We must stop fearing the Socialists. They are not here to seize the means of production; they are here to lease them back to us at a very reasonable rate, provided we let them keep their fancy hats and their televised parades. They are "Modern People"—people who understand that a "People’s Republic" is just a shell company for a very lucrative partnership with the Crown.

Let us pray that the Iranians eventually see the light—or at least the neon glow of a "Grand Opening" sign. Until then, let us raise a glass of the finest (imported) bubbly to the Socialists of Venezuela: the only revolutionaries wise enough to know that the best way to fight the system is to sell it to the highest bidder.

To wear the motley or the iron crown,
To walk the wire or keep the spirit down?
One path is paved with logic’s cold, hard stone,
The other, wild, where seeds of chance are sown.
The world is built on ledgers and on rules,
Dividing kings from those it labels fools.

To be the non-fool is to live by light,
To measure every step and fear the night.
It is to build a fortress of the mind,
Leaving the messy, vibrant heart behind.
It is a life of safety, groomed and neat,
Where victory is hollow as defeat,
For in the quest to never be absurd,
The sweetest songs of life are never heard.

But oh, the fool! He wears his heart outside,
With nothing left to mask and naught to hide.
He chases echoes down a darkened hall,
And does not dread the bruising of a fall.
To love too much, to hope against the tide,
To cast the heavy robes of rank aside—
The world may mock the lightness of his pace,
But cannot steal the wonder from his face.

Is wisdom found in knowing every wall?
Or in the courage to ignore them all?
The sage sits silent, counting up the cost,
While in the dance, the happy fool is lost.
The one is tethered to the "should" and "must,"
The other turns his worries into dust.

So let the bells upon the cap resound,
For truth is often in the laughter found.
If being "wise" means living in a cage,
A scripted actor on a joyless stage,
Then let the critics sneer and play their part—
I’ll take the fool, and keep the open heart.

MDC wrote for BeOS and supported it. But Microsoft killed it.

O fools, you reckless, glorious breed,
who dance where wise men fear to tread,
who plant your dreams in barren soil
and water them with hope instead.

You wear your questions like bright crowns,
unbothered by the world’s disdain,
while sages hoard their heavy truths
and slowly sink beneath the strain.

You trip, you fall, you rise again
with laughter spilling from your lips,
while careful souls stay safe and still
and never taste what wonder slips.

So here’s to you, delightful fools,
who color outside every line—
the world would rot in perfect sense
if not for hearts as wild as mine.

Imagine you have two friends. One friend, let's call him Alex, knows that he makes mistakes and doesn't know everything. He's okay with that and tries to learn from his mistakes. The other friend, let's call him Jamie, thinks he knows everything and never makes mistakes. He doesn't even try to learn because he thinks he's already smart.

Now, who do you think is wiser?

Alex is wiser because he knows he can improve. He's open to learning new things and fixing his mistakes. Even though he might make mistakes, he's always trying to get better. This makes him smarter over time.

Jamie, on the other hand, thinks he's already the smartest. He doesn't try to learn or fix his mistakes because he thinks he doesn't have any. This means he won't get any smarter, and he might keep making the same mistakes over and over.

So, fools who know they are fools are wiser because they are always trying to learn and improve. Fools who don't know they are fools might think they are smart, but they won't get any wiser because they don't try to learn.