Way back in the 1800s, when Ronald Reagan was only the Secretary of Napping and Vacations of the Ottoman Empire, politics was an altogether different business. The Great Thinkers of the age did not have to bother with such trivial questions as, "How do we keep the Bolshevik hordes out of Our Backyard (and away from our patio furniture)?" or "Can we be sure that we have enough nuclear warheads to annihilate all mollusks and other unfriendly marine invertebrates in a first-strike?"

No, the European scholars of the 19th century, being strangely unaware of today's problems, were free to contemplate other questions, including: "Why must the proletariat be forever under the oppressive footwear of the bourgeoisie?" and "Wasn't that Marx's sister I saw you dancing with at the Radicals-R-Us meeting last night?" as well as the common philosophical dilemma, "Where did you put my boxer shorts, you social parasite?"

The answers to these and other queries have greatly affected our current political structure, not to mention the new ways in which we view our underclothes.

However, countless political theorists thrived in this age of enlightened thinking who, unfortunately for them, did not have as efficient public relations men as did Marx and his colleagues. These men may not be household names but they will quite rightly receive here the recognition for their interesting visions of Utopia that was denied them previously. Because their schemes never came to fruition, society can now only scratch its collective head and wonder, "What if . . .?"

The near-great French social critic, Jean-Claude Tickler (1762-1839), was an early proponent of a form of communal living which he practiced at his country home, the "No-Clothes Chateau." Mr. Tickler was fond of saying, ". . .(my philosophy) embodies a strict observance of give-and-take, share-and-share-alike, and community property . . . provided, of course, that you don't try to take something of mine and I'm forced to beat you about the face and neck with a tire iron."

Although Mr. Tickler was eventually executed for his seditious views, he went to the guillotine, pessimistic to the last about society's future, claiming, "Although I am to be executed for my seditious views, I go to the guillotine pessimistic to the last about society's future."

(A noteworthy aside: Mr. Tickler was executed on February 29th of a leap year and, when the date did not occur again the next year, French authorities declared him still at-large and executed him again in absentia. It is this strange series of events that is still celebrated in France as "Stupid Day.")

Several years following the demise of Jean-Claude Tickler, Europe was shocked by the ingenious ravings of the Bavarian philosopher Johann von Haagen Daz (1791-1968). All who heard him were completely taken with his poignant insights into the class struggle, which he had, in fact, experienced first hand since his only income was the meager earnings he collected by selling his earwax to rich nobles.

However, the Continent truly took notice when Mr. von Haagen Daz published his masterful treatise on the individual's role in politics, "My Bodily Fluids, My Country." Shortly after the publication of his great work, Mr. von Haagen Daz boldly stated, "Ha! Wait until you see my next book! I'm thinking of using vowels and perhaps even punctuation, too."

Not impressed with the writings of Johann von Haagen Daz was his colleague, the German revolutionary Helmut Mayonnaise (1801-?). He scoffed at the all-talk-no-action attitude of Mr. von Haagan Daz, saying, "The man has never blown up even a commode or a schoolhouse. And I hate to be petty, but not only are his theories a joke but he wears brown shoes with blue pants. What a buffoon!"

Mr. Mayonnaise, on the other hand, published no theories, preferring instead to stir up insurrection among the populace in hopes of tearing down the existing governments and erecting in their place a chain of fast food restaurants with the unlikely name of "McMolotov Cocktails."

Suffice it to say that government officials were not amused by Mr. Mayonnaise's plans for a new regime, particularly when they learned that they would get stuck working the night shift at the drive-thru window.

About the time that Helmut Mayonnaise was being tried for his treasonous activities, a Russian social scientist by the name of Ivan Iyukkivich (182?-?863) was starting his Utopian community deep in the heart of the Ural Mountains.

He was originally a founding member of the "Cheese School" of Russian political theory and it was this thinking that Mr. Iyukkivich brought with him to his retreat, "Gorgonzola City." He believed, as did others of the "Cheese School," that the common man could only throw off the capitalist yoke of oppression through a daily diet which consisted only of cheeses.

A radical strain of cheese theory was practiced at Gorgonzola City including a weekly bath for each devotee in a vat of lukewarm Gorgonzola sauce. Unfortunately for Mr. Iyukkivich, his methods resulted only in extremely odoriferous followers. Eventually, the commune went bankrupt when Gorgonzola prices skyrocketed and other cheeses, Roquefort and Limburger among them, could be bought for several rubles less.

Ivan Iyukkivich, first among the Cheese-Scholars, was among the last of the 19th century European scholars to attempt to create a political Utopia. Several political theorists, even less well known than he or the others discussed above, tried to leave his mark on the 19th century and each met with mixed success.

Aston Bargholemew-Muffin III, the noted British social historian, estimated that at one time in the mid-1800s there were approximately 272 various Utopian societies operating on one street in London alone, half of which shared a one-bedroom efficiency.

Although the high-water days of the Utopian society may be past, the interest they generated in their day is still quite keen today. As long as their memory is kept alive there will be those of us who study them and, when the mood strikes, take an occasional bath in Gorgonzola sauce.