John Kenneth Galbraith -- The Man Who Taught True Economics Dies

Economics is not just a technical science or craft. It is a political process.

This is what John Kenneth Galbraith taught to those very few who would listen. It goes like this:

1) If you make something someone else wants to buy, you have a potential economic transaction;
2) If, instead, you create a demand for a product you plan to make, you have many potential economic transactions;
3) When your competitors see what you have done, they will also try to create a demand for their products;
4) When potential purchasers see that producers are competing, they create a demand for the best products, inspiring innovation;
5) This moves economies from primitive barter systems to sophisticated modern exchanges.

The whole process is based on demand creation, which is a cultural, social and political phenomenon, limited only by the innovativeness of the people. The system is corrupted by lies and frauds, so the aim of economic management is simply to control and bar those who cheat.

It was a brilliant analysis, never seriously taken up by any government. Instead, modern western governments follow the idiocy of monetarism, a simple system for supporting the rich.

Galbratih is now dead, at the final age of 97. He was a great man.

Arthritis exercise -- Shoulder

The View from our Front Room Window 2005


Here's a tip for anyone with shoulder arthritis. Get yourself a light dumbbell (5 pounds is ideal; less if you need to), or use a medium-sized cola bottle (full). Hold it in your hand, stand with legs apart, and lift the weight until your arm is sticking out straight from side. Rotate the weight and bring your arm so that your weight is straight in front of you. Then lift the weight right over your head (make sure you don't drop it!), hold it for 30 seconds, rocking it gently frontwards and backwards. Then lower it carefully, reversing all the above actions. Repeat (or build up to) 5 or six times a day.

A physiologist attached to my Doctor taught me this, and it has saved a lot of pain, made me stronger (its good to do it with both arms, to balance your strength). I'm not a great exercise freak, so anyone who has the ability to build up muscle strength in the shoulder should be able to manage.

I've been rose-pruning today. It should have been done a month or so ago, but we've had such a long cold winter in North Central England that every growing thing was stalled until last week.

I also cleared out a bunch of ivy, but left a largish patch. Ivy provides very good cover for small birds like wrens or dunnocks, and it's worth leaving some, despite its bad effect on the soil.

And finally, as we approach critical Local Elections in English Cities on May 4th, it looks like this ward is moving towards George Galloway's "Respect" party. I'll still be voting Liberal Democrat, but with little hope. Our glorious leader Menzies Campbell -- the one who "helped" the very popular Charles Kennedy from leadership last Christmas -- is about as inspiring as a wet spinach leaf. Ah, well. Our society sinks ever further into Americanism.

Nut Hatches and Willow Warblers

Sandra first noticed that our rather small garden was becoming a haven for very large numbers of very pretty birds. I won't detail them, because I just appreciate their appearance and sometimes bizarre behaviours.

Anyway, why should the birds come? Was this Hitchcockian? No, it's much simpler than that. One of our dogs loves peanuts and demands them from me every time I have any. I mostly give in, because I'm always sorry for dogs. I love them dearly, but they are soooooo subservient and desiring to please.

Dogs stomachs don't work on peanuts. I suppose some oily nutrient seeps through, but not much. And all the little peanuts come out in the turds. Now, because I have a very bad hip and the weather has not been great this winter and spring, the dogs have had to use the garden sometimes as a loo.

Guess what: the pretty birds come swooping down on the poos and pick out the nuts. Our garden is suddenly a veritable Mecca, er .... , a really big attraction for all seed-and-nut-eating avians. Of course, it helped that Sandra started feeding the birds proper food last winter, but I think it was originally down to the peanut-filled dog shit.

Our daughter Jane is finally getting over Drum & Bass music and moving onto stuff that is ever weirder. God alone knows if the birds will abandon us if and when she ever finishes setting up her sound system.

And what about Avian flu, I ask myself. Oh, I don't know. But I don't want these birds to die now; I've fallen in love with most of them.

How Silly of Me -- Freedom Always Costs

In my last blog I told a story about the "freedom of the streets" now cost money. I assumed that this was an underclass imitation of the "real" world, where everything has a monitary value now.

Of course, I should have realised that it was indeed the daily barter and trading by the ancient underclasses and slaves which was later copied by bankers and systems that underpin capitalism.

Oh, well. I'll just keep the freedom in my mind and make sure I hide better when I want to smoke a joint.

OH, No, No, No, No . . . .. . . .

I have re-edited this blog-thing. I think we've entered bad times. We need to be friendly to each other, instead of offensive, as some of the postings I had up before might have been.

So, after all these years, I've finally accepted that the Enlightenment is probably over. In future times we will look back on it as a Golden Age, destroyed by human greed. Those of our kids not protected by distance or fences from the growingly desperate real people will have lots of trouble. And it's no point heading for the hills. There are more ruthless heavily-armed nutters up there than in the worst city ganglands.

Let me tell you a story. Quickly. I was staying away from home two weeks ago in a fairly dodgy area. I hate staying in, so I walked around for a while in the evening. I smoke cannabis sometimes. I lit up and sat on a bunch of concrete blocks by the main road. Three teenagers moved my direction when the smell hit them.

"Eeh, Grandad, you got a light?" A preliminary, you might think to a robbery, attack or some other horrible fate. But no. They just wanted a light. As they moved off, one of them commented, "You'll need to buy protection if you expect to get away with this again."

That was it. The end of Enlightenment. All people now have to assure safety for themselves and their loved ones. The normal civil rules are once again back to the Middle Ages -- a great historical period, but one of terrible "normal life".

"Normal Life" will never be normal again for me. I had always been tough enough to see off all but the worst bullies and thugs, and I could run faster than those. Being on the civilised fringes of the drug culture, I always had pretty up-to-date knowledge of the places and people to avoid. As I got older and greyer, I became more invisible, which is an added protection in urban hostile ecosystems. On top of that, I have the kind of education and continued exploration that makes me able to change to suit environments -- withoutbeing a hypocrite. Finally, I have an "Order!" voice which scares the shit out of hardened drill sergeants, when I turn it on. It's the kind of voice which Battle Commanders used to address massed troops and actually be heard. I quelled a crowd panic once with a single word. It even scared me.

What worried me so much was not the implied violence of my three youths. It was the fact that they planned to make money out of providing freedom!

Friends, this is so obscene. Humans are supposed to be born with freedom. But now, well -- you just have to buy it.

Yeccchhh.

Jim Friday in Scarborough, 2004, aged 57

Celtic Cross: Curiosity

Celtic Cross: Curiosity

Hi, Celti. The things that I found a bit "unBritish" in your list were these: 1. Don't do low-carb diets; they mess you up; 2. "Ghosts, Hauntings & the Paranormal" -- oh, no; I know from reading your stuff that you don't seem credulous or gullible in the least (this excludes deities, as I too have my own very personal relation with my own, which bears no resemblance to religion of any kind); 3. Guns -- hate them with all your will and might; I've been shot before, and am a damned good shot myself, but we should ban this technology from any decent world; and lastly, 4. "Evita"???!!!! -- oh, lord no. But otherwise, I realloy respect what you stand for, and you seem a really good person. Keep it up.

All the best, Jim Friday

This is me, Jim Friday. Old, Grey but still hanging on.
Jim Friday & Sandra Gibson

The only way into a true rainforest; Papua New Guinea, 1979
Jim Friday & Sandra Gibson

My wife Sandra Gibson in Papua New Guinea with a friend's pooch.
Jim Friday & Sandra Gibson

Jim Friday in Papua New Guinea -- Oh, to be thin again.
Jim Friday & Sandra Gibson

Jim as a Hippy Academic in 1979
Jim Friday & Sandra Gibson

My Favourite Tropical Photo -- Brown River, Papua New Guinea, 1978
Jim Friday & Sandra Gibson

Sandra after Tea in Scarborough 2004.
Jim Friday & Sandra Gibson

FIRST EDITION

This is the Big One. Setting out in this primative slime known as blog journalism has filled me with both fear and lassitude. The lassitude will win, I have no doubt. Butfor these few continuing moments, let yourselves be thrilled by my own stupidity. Why have to think about yours, after all -- very unsettling.

The New Labour Government in Britain now is like one of those tangerines you leave until last because it never looked quite right in the first place. You hoped you'd never come to the point of having to swallow it. (I could have made more disgusting metaphors -- but having enjoyed such filth on the internet, I've started a small mission to add clean stuff, too. The advantage is immediate -- no-one's gonna jerk off over my writing, so I'll never get thelawsuits for spoiled keyboards or mice.)

Where was I? Oh, yes, politics, England, shit like that. Ah forget it.

See you again soon, blogfriends.