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            In the Communist heaven the equivalent of St. Peter stopped one applicant at the gate and asked, “What are your qualifications for entering here?”

            “Well said the man, “on earth my father was a rich industrialist.  My mother came from a family of middle-class tradesmen.  Me, I was a successful writer.  And, finally, after inheriting a large sum of money, I married a baroness.”

            The gatekeeper was choking with rage by this time.  “And those are your claims for entering the Communist Heaven?” he spluttered.

            Meekly the applicant added one more line. “I thought my name might help me,” he murmured.  “It’s Karl Marx.”

Bits & Pieces, Volume C, Number 6, page 20