This is the seminal book of communist theory, which of course doesn't work, is an alien world in our consumptive world of choice, choice, choice. But is it really? Think about this staple of every trash tabloid magazine:
“the Utopians wonder how any man should be so much taken with the glaring doubtful lustre of a jewel or a stone, that can look up to a star or to the sun himself; or how any should value himself because his cloth is made of a finer thread: for howfine soever that may be, it was once no better than the fleece of a sheep, that sheep was a sheep still for wearing it. They wonder much to hear that gold which in itself is so useless a thing, should be made everywhere so much esteemed, that even men for whom it was made, and by whom it has it's value, should yet be thought of as less value than this metal.”
