Hmm, I go both ways. On the one hand I love the stories about his drunken spats with Bakunin and the stuff about the family is heartwarming, and in keeping with the principle of a Marxism that helps old ladies across the street, probably helpful? On the other hand personal opens the door to cult-of-personal, and that's the side of leftism that I hate--if we could keep it about the ideas we'd be more productive and less disappointed. The performance I saw was introduced by the deeply unimpressive David Bar-Samian, who when this Iranian guy in the audience started shouting because he interpreted Bar-Samian's attack on Bush Administration warmongering as support for the Khamenei regime that killed his family, just stood there with his mouth open gathering flies, and the sycophants in the crowd were all shouting this guy down in ugly and racist ways because they were so eager to demonstrate their pious sheepmindedness, and Bar-Samian didn't bother to take control I can only assume because he thought it affronted his dignity to be interrupted. So on the one hand I feel like loving Marx the man is a little too close in some ways to the sentiment that hacks down a political exile as a Bar-Samian's elite boots-licking move; on the other hand, it's love, and he would have reminded us that kindness comes first. If Marx had been in charge in that room he'd have let the man speak, and in that sense probably loving him is the right thing to do and brings us together. ( )