Travel: Luring the Capitalists Eastward

The drums roll and the stripper, wrapped in a floor-length cape, slinks across the stage of a gaudy nightclub in a Hungarian resort. The customers, a mixed assortment of Communists and capitalists, strain forward in their seats.

The girl begins peeling off her gloves with exquisite deliberation. Suddenly, the drums fall silent. The manager plants himself in front of the bare-armed beauty. "Dear friends!" he announces. "Those of you who have paid in forints, koruiyas and levas are cordially invited to go next door where there is an excellent dance band." Exit...

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