Birthdays and Economic Theories

Today is the birthday of two men who have had tremendous influence on modern economic theory: Adam Smith and John Maynard Keynes.

Mr Smith was a Scots merchant whose classic book The Wealth of Nations (published in 1776), suggested that market forces serve the public good, and that government regulation, for the most part, doesn't.

Mr Keynes was an English economist who published his famous book The General Theory of Employment, Interest and Money in 1935, during the Great Depression; in it, he argued that governments can correct severe depressions by increasing their spending, even if it means running a deficit, so as to increase employment. The policies pursued by president Franklin D. Roosevelt in his "New Deal" were heavily influenced by Mr Keynes' theories, and "Keynesian" economic concepts have been used to justify deficit spending ever since.

Well, now we know who to blame.

Adam Smith's ideas on the role of government regulation of markets lie at the heart of the difference between economic "liberals" (read, for the main, Democrats) and "conservatives" (generally, Republicans). Economic "conservatives" argue that the marketplace, left to itself, will eventually correct all of its own problems through a sort of economic Darwinism that will hurt some, but benefit most; therefore, government regulation is anathema. Economic "liberals," on the other hand, tend to focus more on the social impact of economic policies, and are more liable to advocate the judicious regulation of various parts of the economy to minimize the impact of economic ups and downs on the lower and middle classes.

John Maynard Keynes gave us the wonders of deficit spending. This is something I've never quite understood, since if I engage in too much deficit spending I end up bankrupt, while if the government engages in too much deficit spending it just prints more money (yes, I know that's overly simplistic, but I'm a relatively simple observer). While some may argue that Keynesian theories may have helped us to recover from the Great Depression, I think that deficit spending is no more a good idea for governments than it is for lower and middle class workers who try to cope with skyrocketing prices through easy credit.

Now you know why the Nobel Prize selection committee has overlooked me for the prize in Economics for all these years.

To me, there are two steps to sound economic policy on the national level as well as the personal level: don't spend more than you earn, and save as much as you can. The fact that I don't follow my own advice doesn't make it any less valid.

So drop your loose change into a coffee can and save it for a rainy day. The economic weather forecast is calling for a lot of rainy days, pushed by the massive hot air front coming out of Washington.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

A Dung Heap By Any Other Name

It's been a long time since I left Penn State, clutching my BA in Linguistics, but words still fascinate me. Words have a power that can't be denied, and as much as my mother used to say, "Sticks and stones will break your bones, but names will never hurt you," the names we give to things are incredibly important. They shape our opinions and beliefs, separate us from one another, or bring us together. In Shakespeare's play Romeo and Juliet, Juliet asks plaintively,

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet."

Well, Juliet, that's a good point. But there are also some things that would smell just as bad no matter what we call them.

Take the phrase, war on terror. It's stupid. As rallying cries go, it lacks the punch of "Remember the Alamo," but we're stuck with it. Terrorism is a tactic employed for political or religious ends. It's not an ideology that can be contested, or an enemy whose lands can be devastated and capital occupied. It's a weapon. This article in the Financial Times makes the case pretty well.

Another name that seems to be badly misused is jihad, the word usually translated into English as "holy war." Muslims loudly split the definitional hair, insisting that the term refers not to sawing off the heads of those who disagree with them, but to an honorable quest to find one’s faith, or an external fight for justice (as described in Islamic terms). If this is the case, should we use a term with supposedly honorable and praiseworthy connotations to refer to the despicable activities of savage lunatics? This question has been asked before, and is addressed well in this New York Times op-ed article by P.W. Singer and Elina Noor. Singer and Noor argue that use of the term jihad to refer to the murderous actions of violent extremists acknowledges a legitimate religious justification for their actions, and that we should seek another, more descriptive term to use in its place.

So, if we aren't to use the terms jihad (for the activity) or jihadi (for the one who pursues it), what do we say? Religious lunatics probably isn't politically correct enough for government spokesmen and highbrow editorial pages; and violent extremists seems too simplistic. Singer and Noor reach into the Arabic language to recommend the terms hirabi or hirabist as likely replacements. They note that the basic root word, hirabah, refers to barbarism or piracy, and that "...Unlike 'jihad,' which grants honor, 'hirabah' brings condemnation; it involves unlawful violence and disorder."

Yes, Juliet, a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. And a despicable murderer by any other name would smell as foul. So, as my little linguistic shot across the bow of those who would use religious justification for political murder, I intend to start using the term hirabi to describe these evil creatures, and hirabah to describe their philosophy. If the term jihad really does have an honorable meaning in an Islamic context (which, given how many Muslims use it themselves, I have to doubt), then I can't use it to describe those who would wrap themselves in an honorable religious cloak to justify the worst of subhuman savagery.

I just knew that all those hours I spent listening to lectures on semantics would eventually pay off.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

From the "Blinding Flash of the Obvious" File

According to a recent CNN online article, the travel industry lost an estimated $18.1 billion (yes, billion, with a b) in the last year. The driver of this loss was, oddly enough, average travelers - who took an estimated 41 million fewer trips (29 million leisure and 12 million business) in the last 12 months than in the previous year. The airlines carried fewer passengers, hotels had fewer guests, holiday destinations saw fewer visitors, and local municipalities lost an estimated $4.2 billion in income that would otherwise have been realized through taxes on hotels, restaurants, and other tourist-fueled businesses.

I guess anyone who didn't see this coming is deeply into Mexican Happy Grass. Airline ticket prices and miscellaneous fees are going up faster than a nun's eyebrows at a nude beach, and the price of gasoline long ago lost any contact with reality. The new word I've seen used often is staycation, meaning a vacation spent at home or at destinations in one's local area to minimize cost.

There was a time not so long ago when travel was fun. It was relatively expensive, but not beyond the means of average working-class people who planned carefully. Now, thanks to the greed of the oil industry and the utter lack of focus on airline customer service, the travel industry is in the toilet because people just aren't willing any more to pay outrageous prices for the privilege of being treated like cattle.

From a business perspective, I know that we travel much less than we used to. Many meetings we used to hold in person are now done via video conferencing...not as good as sitting around a table and looking each other in the eye, but a lot less expensive. The cost of the air travel is bad enough, but you also have to allow so much extra travel time in case of enroute delays or unexpected flight cancellations that you end up spending unnecessarily large amounts on per diem for travelers. I used to fly somewhere on business about once a month...this year, I expect to travel only twice all year. Agnes and I are hoping for a vacation later in the year, but we'll just have to see how the prices look between now and then.

Oh, well...at least we have an enormous personal library, a very good public library system, a large music collection, a few hundred tapes and DVDs, and a nice deck out back to enjoy them all on. My garden is booming. We don't need to leave home at all.

Too bad I may not be able to see too many more of those 1000 Places to See Before You Die.

Have a good day. At home. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

A Woman's Place

The aftershocks of the devastating earthquake in China have evidently spread to the desolate hinterlands of the Afghanistan-Pakistan border, turning over a large rock to once again expose that paragon of brotherly love and peace, Ayman al-Zawahiri.

The number two snake of al Qaeda has been taking questions from his adoring fans and answering them on the internet, and according to this article from CNN online, he has responded to a question about women in al Qaeda, thundering from on high his pronouncement of the role of women in his group: stay home, have babies, and take care of the swine who go forth to murder the innocent. Well, that's not quite what he said; I sort of used a bit of expressional license on the last part, but that's his real message.

The amazing part is that women in the radical Islamic world are clamoring for the right for equality: they want to become ruthless murderers just like the men. In Iraq, women have either carried out or attempted at least 20 suicide bombings since 2003.

Gender equality is a wonderful thing.

Not a day goes by that I don't shake my head in complete amazement at the actions of those who claim their religion is one of peace, and yet endorse the most horrific acts of violence against those who don't share their beliefs. Not a week goes by without some newspaper account of something that has resulted in "Muslim outrage."

Well, I'm outraged, too. I'm outraged by those who believe their beliefs give them the right and duty to kill me. I'm outraged by those - regardless of belief - whose rigid intolerance for any other form of religious belief leads them to commit terrible acts in the name of God. I'm outraged by those who mine the Koran for exhortations to murder and intolerance. Renaissance dramatist and poet Ben Johnson once said, "There are some men born only to suck out the poison of books." Mr Johnson died in 1637, but his words ring true today.

I just wish those who suck the poison from the Koran or the Bible or whatever "holy" book they choose would kill only themselves. It would make the world a much better place.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

The Curse and the Wedding

I don't know if I've ever told you about the curse on my family.

Well, many years ago when my many-generations-distant grandparents lived in old Hungary, one of them one day inadvertently pissed off an old gypsy woman who, as old gypsy women back then were wont to do, put a curse on the family. It wasn't a ghastly, terrifying curse like the one described by Edward Lucas White in his classic short story, Lukundoo, or a dreadful curse like the one Stephen King (as Richard Bachman) wrote of in his novel Thinner. No, our curse is one that manifests itself in the things that happen every day...

If I get into a the shortest line anywhere - in a store, in a bank, at the theater, anywhere - that line will immediately stop moving.

If something I really, really want is on sale, and I have the money available to buy it on the spot, it will be sold out.

If I desperately have to go to the bathroom (not a small concern as I get older), there won't be so much as a half-concealing bush within miles.

And so on. As curses go, I suppose it beats being strangled in the night by a reanimated corpse, but it has its own frustrations.

What does that have to do with weddings, you ask?

Well...

When our daughter was married a few years back, we had planned an outdoor wedding at the Officers' Club at Fort Belvoir (beautiful location, and a chance to cash in on my paid-for-every-month-since-1983 membership). On the appointed day, it didn't just rain...it rained so hard people were lining their pets up in twos and looking for ark space. The people who had our backup location inside the club building - who were supposed to be out of the room so we could set up for the wedding - dawdled endlessly, ensuring that we and the club staff had to frantically race to get things organized. And those people had brought all their guests in a huge bus which was parked immediately in front of the club doors, so that we had to carry all our stuff inside through the pouring rain (my tux got quite a wash that day), and our guests had to park some distance away and swim to the building. Not to mention the $300-odd worth of rented chairs I watched float away on the tide.

Anyhow,

The curse returned yesterday, when we attended the wedding of our acquaintances Tom and Erika. Tom has been one of Agnes's students at the dance studio for a few years, and met Erika through his dancing.

We were treated to another near-Biblical rainstorm...we drove to the ceremony through rain so hard we literally couldn't see the road. It rained so hard and so much that it flooded the church, trapping the bride in the basement behind six inches of water until the resourceful ushers and groomsmen were able to build a bridge of chairs to help her get across the river to the stairs without ruining her gown. After the ceremony, we all stayed in the church waiting for the rain to end, and occupied the time by taking so many pictures that the members of the wedding party had flash burns.

It all worked out, but I just know that old gypsy woman was laughing at me from wherever old gypsies go when the shuffle off their mortal coils.

A few pictures...

Ben and I managed to clean up well enough that Agnes didn't object to being seen with us. You can't see our wet feet in this picture.

In spite of floods and stress, Erika was a beautiful bride, and Tom looked pretty good in his tail coat. They decided they also needed a picture with their dance teachers...

Our intrepid friend Nadja (yes, she of the famous shoes) was also along, and managed to relax while we waited for the storms to pass...

And what sort of story about a wedding would this be without one photo of the beautiful bride?

Today, the weather seems to have cleared up. After our dance practice this morning, I may even be able to get some work done in the garden.

Just don't tell that gypsy woman, okay?

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

Cartoon Saturday

Yes, it's Saturday morning once again. The sun is singing, the birds are shining, Agnes is grumping about having to work on Saturday, and we're looking forward to going to a friend's wedding this afternoon.

Time for Cartoon Saturday!

We lead off this week with two cartoons with the same punch line:


In honor of the 100th anniversary of Ian Fleming's birth this week, a new James Bond novel, Devil May Care, was published. And, of course, we're all looking forward to the new Bond film, Quantum of Solace, later this year. And then there's this...

I love Frank and Ernest cartoons, if for no other reason than they're so silly most of the time...

And finally, a cartoon that speaks to those of us who live within groaning distance of the nation's capitol:

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

Telephone Books

Yesterday one of my coworkers sent me a link to an interesting article from Discovery News: "World's First Telephone Book Surfaces." The article reports that the oldest known telephone directory - all 20 pages of it - was issued for New Haven, Connecticut, in November of 1878, just two years after Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone. The book provided valuable information for New Haven's 391 telephone subscribers, including such gems as: "Should you wish to speak to another subscriber you should commence the conversation by saying, 'Hulloa!'"; "Never take the telephone off the hook unless you wish to use it;" and, "When you are done talking say, 'That is all,' and the person spoken to should say, 'O.K.'"

In contrast, the current (July, 2007) issue of our Northern Virginia White Pages is 1724 pages long and contains two full, three-column pages of "Emergency Preparedness" instructions and 15 pages of "General Information." The accompanying Yellow Pages volume is 1886 pages in length.

On a related topic, I recently read another article about how advertisers are trying to figure how to divide their budgets between the trusty old Yellow Pages and the newer online search capabilities. The bottom line is that the Yellow Pages are holding their own, but more and more people who own computers do their number lookups online.

This is a major cultural shift.

For years, a staple of the circus strongman's act was ripping a telephone book in half. Somehow, I don't think breaking a hard drive will have quite the same impact. And if online searches for phone numbers eventually replace the Yellow Pages, what will become of the famous "Yellow Pages game," in which you look for silly combinations of the guide words at the top of the pages; for instance, "Yoga-Zoos" (which apparently offer exercise programs for animals), "Plumbing-Pollution" (what happens when your toilet backs up), "Grocers-Guns (obviously necessary for the effective defense of the produce department), and "Metal-Ministers" (who must play some really loud and discordant music at their services).

And how effective is your online search as compared to the trusty Yellow Pages when you need something to bring that small child up to the level of the dinner table? One or two Yellow Pages volumes stacked on the chair will do the job, but I doubt that the computer will serve.

And what about the suspense movies in which the hero, desperate to find a phone number or address, rushes into a telephone booth and pages through the battered phone book chained to the little corner desk within...only to find that the page he needs has already been torn out by the scheming villain who's a step ahead of him?

Ah, the good old days...

By the way, if you'd like to own the world's oldest known telephone directory, it will be auctioned off by Christie's on June 17th. Good luck.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

Bad Jobs

We all complain about our jobs from time to time, but some people have more cause to do that than others. There's even a TV show dedicated to looking at the worst jobs in the world and, thank goodness, they haven't yet featured any jobs I've actually held. Lately, though, there are a few jobs that have to be on the list:

One of the worst jobs to hold nowadays has to be Airline Gate Agent. It must be wonderful to be the person holding the very brownest end of the stick, taking abuse from people fed up at being nickled and dimed to death on their tickets, having to pay for something new that used to be free each time they fly, facing the prospect of sitting for several hours in the narrowest and most uncomfortable seats since the Spanish Inquisition. I don't think I could do that. But some people can...

Another unpleasant job has to be shilling for the oil industry. It takes a special sort of person to tell audiences with a straight face that they're not responsible for the world-class reaming they're giving the traveling public. You all know the standard highway symbol for a gas station:

And you've surely seen the new version:


I could write more, but I have my own wonderful job to go to. I'm not complaining, though...at least I'm working, and a lot of other people aren't...

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

The Ultimate in Undocumented Aliens

Back when I was in grade school and junior high, long ago and far away, shortly after the earth cooled and the dinosaurs went away, I dreamed of being a scientist. I loved chemistry and biology, and I especially loved the idea of space travel...this was the early 60's, just at the dawn of the space age, and I was inspired by Alan Shepard and Yuri Gagarin, the original astronaut and cosmonaut. One of my heroes was Colonel McCauley, the star of Men Into Space, and I cheered the adventures of Captain Video and the early Buck Rogers.

This, of course, was before I stumbled over advanced algebra before finally crashing on the rocks of college-level differential and integral calculus. It's why today I'm a linguist rather than a chemist or a space explorer.

An offshoot of my early love of science and space travel was a firm belief in the existence of unidentified flying objects...UFOs..."flying saucers." I just knew those things were out there, that they were crushing strange symbols into our crops and kidnapping the odd isolated traveler for unspeakable medical experiments. I sat up late on Saturday nights to watch Chiller Theater and movies like Earth vs the Flying Saucers, Devil Girl from Mars, and The Day the Earth Stood Still. Someday, I knew, those little green men with the bulbous heads and the giant eyes were coming, and that they were more likely to be like the nasties from Independence Day hissing "die now!" than the waddling and gentle ET figuring out how to phone home.

Well, they're not here yet. At least, not officially. But at least the Vatican says it's okay to believe in their existence. The Rev. Jose Gabriel Funes, the director of the Vatican Observatory, said in a recent interview that belief in extraterrestrial life doesn't necessarily contradict our faith because aliens, wherever they are from, would still be God's creatures. They wouldn't be "documented," of course, but if they've mastered interstellar travel and have weapons capable of destroying whole cities, I doubt that anyone will be checking their passports. And they probably won't be looking for jobs mowing lawns and running convenience stores...although I'd rather they did that than tried to destroy the earth.

I still believe there are other "people" out there. I don't think it's rational to look at a sky dotted with billions of galaxies, each one containing billions of stars, and believe we're alone in all that vastness. They may not look like us, they may be either friendly, neutral, or hostile, but they're out there somewhere. I don't know if we'll meet them in my lifetime, but I think someday we will.

I also think they'll be probably be disappointed at the behavior of the life in this remote corner of the Milky Way.
Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo

The World According to Rudner

Despite being a confirmed, card-carrying curmudgeon (wow, I didn't know I could be that alliterative this early in the morning!), I like to think I have a good, if bizarre, sense of humor. Actually, in order to survive in these times, a sense of humor is a necessary survival technique...if you can't laugh at the outrageous reaming you're taking from the oil companies and the financial services industry (that's what we used to call banks back when they actually paid some attention to customer service), you'd just sit around and cry all the time.

My sense of humor is a little twisted. I love puns, shaggy dog stories, clever cartoons, and the occasional off-color joke. Unfortunately, nowadays many comedians tend to rely on shock value and gutter language instead of real humor...they go for the joke that makes you cringe and laugh nervously instead of the one that draws you in, hooks your attention, and then hits you with the twist that makes you laugh with glee instead of embarrassment.

That's why I love Rita Rudner.

This is a lady whose sense of humor is every bit as twisted and bizarre as mine, whose gentle delivery, perfect comic timing, and loopy observations on common topics mark her as a comedienne of the first order. Here are a few of my favorite Rita Rudner jokes...

I was going to have cosmetic surgery until I noticed that the doctor's office was full of portraits by Picasso

My mother buried three husbands, and two of them were just napping.

Marriages don’t last. When I meet a guy, the first question I ask myself is: is this the man I want my children to spend their weekends with?

I wonder if other dogs think poodles are members of a weird religious cult.

To attract men, I wear a perfume called "New Car Interior."

We’ve begun to long for the pitter-patter of little feet, so we bought a dog. Well, it’s cheaper, and you get more feet.

Men reach their sexual peak at eighteen. Women reach theirs at thirty-five. Do you get the feeling that God is playing a practical joke?

Men who have a pierced ear are better prepared for marriage - they’ve experienced pain and bought jewelry.

My boyfriend and I broke up. He wanted to get married and I didn’t want him to.

My husband gave me a necklace. It’s fake. I requested fake. Maybe I’m paranoid, but in this day and age, I don’t want something around my neck that’s worth more than my head.

Never play peekaboo with a child on a long plane trip. There’s no end to the game. Finally I grabbed him by the bib and said, "Look, it’s always gonna be me!"

Some women hold up dresses that are so ugly and they always say the same thing: 'This looks much better on.' On what? On fire?

I don’t plan to grow old gracefully. I plan to have face-lifts until my ears meet.

I love being married. It’s so great to find that one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life.

The word 'aerobics' came about when the gym instructors got together and said: If we’re going to charge $10 an hour, we can’t call it 'Jumping Up and Down.'

I got kicked out of ballet class because I pulled a groin muscle. It wasn't mine.

Thank goodness for Rita Rudner. Now I can face the start of the working week with a smile on my face. For a few minutes, anyhow.

Have a good day. More thoughts tomorrow.

Bilbo