An Economic Connection

Once upon a time, an economist walked into a bar. In his fancy, powdered white wig with luxurious curls and a navy blue knee-length coat, Adam Smith was a sight to behold. As usual, he ordered three bottles of the best quality 1814 Claret in the bar and chugged one down immediately. The sweet flavor of the Claret only served to enhance the sparkle in his eyes. To the regular guests in this bar, it was no surprise when Smith began to rant about economics to whoever would listen. But since he tips well, the bartender did not care.  

“Simply put, the economy is self-regulating. The concept of bullionism is ultimately harmful to the economy. High tariffs are like poison! POISON!” Smith yelled. As the evening went on, he got progressively drunker. “The invisible hand controls the economy. Only then can we achieve equality! COMPETITION will prevent monopolies,” he continued. 

In the middle of Smith’s tirade, the bar suddenly fell silent at the entrance of a tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, and handsome man. He had on a pressed suit jacket and a pin that read “Workers of the World, Unite!” Smith, engrossed in his theory of the economy, didn’t notice this hulking male specimen’s presence next to him. However, he was soon aware as the man immediately ordered a wide arrangement of drinks—gin, whisky, soju, baijiu, vodka, brandy, cognac, tequila, and mead—in a crisp voice. Smith stopped speaking, his jaw hung slightly askew, as he was most impressed by this mysterious man’s drinking prowess. The man turned to look at Smith with a scowl on his face as he downed two drinks at once and said “Erm, major bombastic side eye. Your economic theories are totally wrong.” 

Smith bumbled out words in quick succession, “Dude what? Who even are you anyway? I AM literally the economist of my time.” 

“Name’s Marx. Karl Marx,” the man said with a smirk. Smith decided that he rather liked Karl Marx’s smirk. 

“Your proposed system clearly disregards evident inequality. Everyone should be equal. In a free market economy, monopoly will inevitably occur which defeats the whole purpose of competition,” Marx ranted. “Also government control ftw.” 

Smith felt disturbed that his precious child, capitalism, had been insulted. “What? You may be handsome but you’re so stupid. You’re like a worm left out to dry on the sidewalk after the rain. Freedom is most important. So are you going to have some weird old white men at your government controlling every move of the citizens?” he said, ignoring the fact that he, too, was an old white man.  

Marx snarled, “Oh you fugly cow. capitalism is a stain upon this earth. Everyone should work together. Capitalism just drives people apart with competition. This is why we need a proletariat revolution—even though I grew up in an upper-middle-class family, a revolution is okay if it's for me. DOWN WITH THE BOURGEOISIE. Wait, did you just call me handsome?”

“SHUT UP,” Adam Smith yelled, drawing the attention of other drunk bar-goers. He didn’t care though. He was sick of this Marx man and how nice his lashes looked under the stereo lights of the bar while he spoke animatedly. Wow, what a fine man. Except he was really annoying. 

“Make me,” Marx smirked. Suddenly, they weren’t arguing anymore and Smith moved himself closer to Marx until their noses were nearly touching and the temperature in the room seemed to increase by at least a few degrees. Then, they started kissing and all Smith could think about was the feeling of Marx’s hands tousling his hair, and the rest of the night was a blur. 

This volatile relationship soon intensified, and after a week, Marx proposed to Smith, saying, “My dearest Adam, would you do me the honor of making me the happiest economist in the universe?” Smith, of course, said yes, and they immediately got married in a farm’s pigpen that they trespassed on. Their best man was a large pig named Major and their maid of honor was another pig named Napoleon. Smith and Marx shared another chaste kiss to cement their marriage, as dollar bills rained down from above. 

Marx and Smith happily stared into each other’s eyes and gave up their economic ideals as they enjoyed a honeymoon in the Amazon rainforest. The two grew so attached to the beautiful ambiance of the rainforest that they decided to settle there. With the Industrial Revolution came the creation of a newly deforested region in the rainforest, and Marx and Smith built a wondrous five-story tall treehouse there along with a large farm for the pigs they stole. The Industrial Revolution led to irreversible detrimental consequences for humanity. As a result, the jungle would soon be gone from deforestation and farming practices, but it was all okay because Marx and Smith found true love. Their economic theories were soon forgotten without their charismatic selves to spread the word, and the bourgeoisie remained the rulers of the proletariats. As Marx and Smith spent the rest of their lives dedicated to each other, their bridespigs and groomspigs could be heard oinking inside the couple’s jungle treehouse residence.