Monday, 21 January 2019

Capital Controls Pome for the day, Part the first.

The desert of Nevada bloomed on the back of broken dreams, paid for by the millions who lost. But a gambler can only lose, if the house wins. Overall, nothing can be lost.

In 2008, a rather larger gamble went wrong, and nothing was lost. In fact, so much nothing was lost, we're still paying for it now.

In every nation, freedom, democracy, autonomy - Sovereignty - lies, in like proportion, in the hands of those with the greater number of sovereigns. Thus the market force with which one may summon a waiter who despises -

REJ:- Waiter minute! That's not a pome! -

Idrisyesthatone:- *sigh* -

A madman came down from the hill
To say what he could see
He saw a coin toss land on edge
Between the binary

Now first he's going to call it heads
- You see the coin's still spinning -
And then it's tails, and then it's edge
With everybody winning

So all the money in the world
Was placed upon a rocket
And shot to space, the human race
Thus poundless in its pocket

It then appeared, not quite as feared
That nought was lost in wealth
The only cost, the rocket lost
And launcher's mental health

Upon the marble rolling straight
Around the curving sky
Was everything there was before
And humans wondered why

They scratched their heads, and each alone
Declared that wealth must plummet
Then scratched their heads together
At an 'International Summit'

How stupid are the tiny ants
Viewed economically
Twas almost as if peer review
Were circularity

And if you think you've seen a flaw
One must admit you're right:-
There's no need for the rocket or
The madman's second sight
Just look around the world and see
The capital aflight.

REJ:- I hope tails is better.

Thursday, 4 May 2017

Poem for the day

One meets so few genuine solipsist plagiarists. But what we need now, more than ever, is strongandstable poetry. Malheureusement, there is no border at the mind where le pen is flightier than the horde. What better way to elucidate than to recreate the unsuccessful mating of minds that was Bertrand Russell and Ludwig Wittgenstein, in the form of a silky Afghan, and a German Shepherd, trapped in iambic tetrameter. 

Wel, I can think of three better ways, perhaps three and a quarter. Apart from that, I've lost it. So have this instead.

Every pencil writes in stencil
One without and one within
O! How anyone can see
The letter O is circles three
And inbetween, the line inside
The universe, a circle ride.

Sunday, 22 January 2017

Poem for the day

Shoe-saving string theorist Stephen Hawking is not fit to tie my laces, but is right to warn about the dangers of AI. A rogue cyborg seizing power could be disastrous for the world, but any programming errors would be easy to spot in the malfunctioning language, and other giveaways such as unconvincing skin and hair. I was saying this to my cat last night when Dr. Bendi the fifth and final let himself in with a key made of ice - more hygienic, but the lock rusts - and started waggling and buzzing, claiming to be a zzzzzom-bee. I don't know about you, but I always find zzzzzom-bee charades boring. The answer's always flower, but you have to go the distance. And the direction. Easy puzzles for a Sun reader. Then he insisted a dog was really a record player. A speaker, a listener and His Master's Voice. the feedback loop, DOG. 'Bees dead, dogs alive' he said. I counted 12 times. 'One mirror good, two mirrors better'. Wel, I think we know who's barking. 'Self-reflection!' he howled.

The night degenerated - if you can believe it - into an argument over how to spell somniloquent. 'It's got an I in it' I said, having googled it 5 minutes ago. 'There's no I in it, that's the whole point!' he buzz-barked back, quite animated. And this explains his unorthodox spelling:-

Somneloquent bees
That read from the flower
Pray tell by the Sun
Whence the source of thy power

Cross-pollinate minds
With hexagonal money
And melt wax the humans
From nectar to honey

Friday, 20 January 2017

Phantom poem for the day

They say in Abati cwm-hir that each man is born with a spade to bury his father. They say in Cnwch-y-craig that each man is born with a hoe to plough his mother. And they say in Llanfihangel-y-creuddyn that each man is a digestive tube with a lightbulb for a head. That's why I don't go out much. But Idris does, it's just a shame he comes back in. Donne's muse trotted on a dromedary. Wordsworth was the pointing on other's brickwork. And Shelley's bird did not soar too high. But Idris has a stop-go animated virtual muse he's rather wedded to, and insists that two heads are better than one, evolutionarily speaking. Wel, I'm in two minds about that, but Idris seems certain...

Phantom limb, phantom pain,
Phantom phantom in the brain,
Two at once the conscious seed,
One to write, and one to read.

Wednesday, 28 December 2016

2016:- The gift that keeps on giving

What a year! And still time for Cliff! But Someone doesn't seem to want him. The list of vacuous narcissists of no to negative consequence just keeps on growing - it is the gift that keeps on giving. David Bowie gave us permission to be ourselves. Leonard Cohen gave us permission to be our big-nosed sulky selves. And George Michael attempted to reinvent the drive-thru. Each time, the world changed and would never be the same again. Although you can watch them on youtube when they were better. But who would you most like to see die next? Yes - it's your friends and colleagues who have suddenly become 5 yrs old, and that twat on the news who never knew fucknobody. But apart from them? Which celebrity would you most like to see next shuffling off into a hastily cobbled together crockofshite TV #tweet fest? Everyone will have their own personal favourite 'Top Ten', but I'll probably get bored halfway through....

1. That other one out of Status Quo.

Really, that other one out of Status Quo is not the only other one out of Status Quo, but with the B-listers dropping like flies, and the rest of the alphabet dying at over a million a week, there just aren't enough candles for everybody. Sneering snobs have attempted to diminish the musical achievements of this seminal band, but if it really were that easy to make a multitude of hit records sound the same, then every one would be it. Apart from that first one, which instead merely sounded like someone else.

2. Bob Geldof

A popular choice with tax and planning authorities everywhere, Bob's greatest achievements must surely include forgetting Midge Ure, and making Nigel Farage look the lesser wanker. His famously inspired ad lib 'Give us your fucking money' was in fact rehearsed over many years, but such was his professional delivery that even today it seems off the cuff, and people don't always appreciate the years of practise that go into every act behind the scenes.

3. Bob Monkhouse again

Shrewd observers of Bob Monkhouse will have noticed that he was never truly alive, merely a stacked nesting of fabricated GOSUB routines, all written out and colour coded in that famous book of him, but it was still fun to hear that he had died, albeit sadly only in 2003. Perhaps his greatest joke was the one about faking sincerity, but no it wasn't - that was merely a sinister confession. It was instead 'They laughed when I said I was going to be a comedian. They're not laughing now'. Although we can still say this without his actual physical presence, it still somehow seems a shame he can't die again.

4. Terry Wogan again, twice, to be sure, to be sure

You wouldn't think someone would steal money from Children in Need, but then you are not a sadly missed celebrity, and so can't spell steal 'small non-commercial fee'. It takes a consummate mastery of presentation to be able to do this while simultaneously reading off the autocue just how many lives this money would otherwise save - every little helps - and of course Terry 'would gladly have done it for nothing' if the freedom of information request had forced him to a quarter of a century earlier.

5. Simon Cowell

Even the most leathery cynic amongst us will feel it a tragedy that Simon's mother never lived to see him die. Very much an outward-looking man, Simon invented the talent show, the talent show, and the talent show, and who knows what he might invent next - there seems no start to his ability. Although already immortalised in dentistry, the flesh remains weak, and though these records will outlast him, one just can't help hoping he takes forever to die, a hollow, empty husk of a human, gazing at the reflection that must be so transparent to himself, watching his life slowly evaporate, all the time acutely, exquisitely, horrifically aware of the impending eternal vacuum he never really left.

Thursday, 22 December 2016

Poem for the day

Spring up, fair Arab! Heed the call,
The Autumn tweets the Tyrant's fall,
The Summer Sun sets in the West,
And Eastern Winter lays to rest
Thy leaves upon a crimson sand,
Thy scattered seeds by holy hand,
Know that thou suffered but in vain!
As poppies hang in daisy chain
Around the neck of Human, See!
The planting of thy future Tree.
Two blooms upon a desart land
May grow sincerest creed
That each themselves a flower Grand
And each the other weed
Yet all grow under the same Sun
And grew from the same Seed.

Saturday, 3 December 2016

'Ants who learn geometry' litotes mirror unzip

Executive pay has gone from a measly 50 x the average to 200 x. And this is because everyone is 4 x better off. If pay were capped to the previously dangerously Maoist 50 x, then everyone wouldn't be such a 4 x better off like they weren't before, as there is no connection. If encouraged to 400 x then we would be twice 4 x better off, and this is how progress is made towards a continuous virtuous circle. The more money hoovered up and hoarded, the more there is left to make the more money of the future, as Keynes could have said quicker if he'd spent less time feasting with panthers.

Executiving is a very difficult job, and we have some of the best executiving decisionists in the world, many times better than Norwegian ones, but not quite as many times better yet as American ones. Who cannot think of an American executivonist of the moment we would not be even more times better off with like they are in Detroit.

The UK's Premier League of executivonist special ones has seen our collective world cupitude increase from 1 to 0, and shows no sign of this trend dimproving in the new global competition. Life is unfair, and there should be some compensation for having Gareth Bale's face, but what is often forgotten is that the wealth created by the relative positioning of spheres, trickles down to prostitutes who resemble Wayne Rooney's grandmother, and goes on to fund a whole further supply chain of sundry industries that has helped make Manchester what it is today.

In the modern world, globalisation has meant that the earth now goes all the way around, and if we don't want foreign investment such as Mr Green's minus £1/2 billion, he informs us that we only have to say so. But the danger is that such luminaries might leave, and take their geography with them, likewise the world's largest foreign investor, the Sun.

Nothing is for free, least of all the Sun, moon and earth. Work - movement - external and internal, must be paid for. The tide won't turn by itself. Those who would tax the very tide, in Swansea or Cardiff say, by fantasy miracles of rare device, forget their position in the league, and the many times better results achieved by Cnuts everywhere. Sometimes there just isn't enough sea to go around, and we are all left in the doldrums.

In the free world, water always finds its level. 10 x higher are found the 10 x higher humans, with their 1 second 100 metres, and 1000 IQ s, and so on, all the way up the pyramid of wealth. Those who took the trouble to evolve their ancestors, have an inalienable right to the product of their brains, especially after they are dead. Thus the abstract capitalism has solved both production and distribution, and removed countless millions from the idiocy of leisure, with only the minimum of ghastly waste and horror, just as reflected in its real-world mirror, evolution.

In a classless meritocracy such as Britain, the distribution has been solved thus:-


- which is the most stable and productive distribution imaginable, and the only alternative to communist dictatorship. It is in fact inevitable, possibly even divine, and countries with different shapes and better outcomes, don't exist other than in reality, which can't be looked up on the internet. Any incremental shape-shifting towards better - the phoenix without the ashes - is impossible, since the current arrangement was supernaturally achieved without human interference. The puny laws of man are written on paper, thus permanent, and can't be rubbed out or written over in crayon without the express permission of fairies, thus the only choice is status quo or revolution, and certainly not any kind of macroeconomic guaranteed instant win fruit machine lever, such as a wealth tax, which could never be made permanent, at any angle of lever, or varied to regulate constant aggregate demand. Over any area of geography. Repeatedly post-hoc on the net without prescience. Apart from the whole world which must first pay off its many trillions of debt to invisible interplanetary lenders.

The area added to the inverted pyramid of piffle, globally, has quintrupled in the time population has doubled, making Malthus look a bit of a cock, like all such high priests recycling inherited scriptures of self-sacrifice. This is because everyone is now working 2 ½ days a day, scything away like a 150 minutes an hour Poldark, and nothing to do with the invention of combines. Indeed technology has never done any good at all, and no creation will ever out-perform its creator, as Fred Flintstone declared on the invention of the wheel. Such perversions are unnatural, and only encourage the unelected autocratic Strongman behind physics and war.

If geometric really were faster than arithmetic, then virtuous circles of green investment would yield a disastrous crash in the price of the fundamental economic fuel, making everything higher up the chain disastrously cheaper as well, and spoiling the race for nuclear, which the Sun already won without even the decency of trying. Endeavour would be reduced to competition between who could wear the silliest clothes, make up the silliest stories, and chant the most ridiculous things in the stupidest postures, and suchlike, just to pass the time, and this could never be popular with the religious, or other pantomime actors. This is clearly not what God wants us to do. Oh no it isn't -

The poor have always been with us, they're not something new like homosexuals, and you can't make them richer merely by giving them more money. In fact this is the worst thing to do - like feeding a horse - it only makes them less effective. A stable of fed and trained horses is something too horrific for any ethical vet to contemplate, and only makes for a slower average speed. Leaders wondering about Grand National Product, need only notice that starved, lame and unstabled horses - austerity horses - are the fastest, and the best people to be in charge are always the biggest horseshitters in history.

As there is more money than there ever was, and ever is, and ever and ever amen etc, - wars and meteors aside - it seems silly to make even yet more, quicker, by the daunting and arduous expedient of slightly squashing the pyramid. This would only even be possible if maths existed, and who's to say it does for sure. Although a 3 year old with building blocks would find it trivial, when fully rendered through an economical supercomputer, it looks a lot harder, and this is worth paying a fortune for, especially if it was wrong the last time. But it is undeniable that an unfortunate side-effect would be that society would also become better, by all intersubjective consensus definitions of the word, by all objective social and moral measures imaginable.

A long time ago, in the cradle of civilisation, a pitiful slavedom of simple and bewildered infantilised peasantry were kept in check by the predictions and proclamations of fraudulent priests and pharaohs. But nothing evolves faster than humans, and the scales of justice soon tipped the balance in favour of the far more numerous Librans everywhere. As a rational animal, the best economic models depend on this inevitable expression of rational self-interest, reflected in the collapse and destruction of every civilisation in history so far.

The law of non-contradiction is famously both right and wrong, depending on what level you look at, until a circular truism is noticed at the bottom. Binary propositions in search of such varying truth yield the most productive arguments, and may keep the group-selectionists going for a while, while we wait for someone to point out that all maths is extending tautologies of x=x, as they do every century. The differing schools of thought that make up philosophy, show that they've really done very well indeed, apart from in understanding the paper they've written on, which folding up and moving, is unlikely to affect any thought equations. The lack of a causal nexus may be deduced from a series of if...then statements held in Time, which humans are ideally wired to appreciate, and thus the Sun may not rise because deduced was not spelled caused. If 1 = one then maths could be written in words, or even French, and things would be clearer, but such wish-thinking is pointless, and the silliest way to proceed.

The cleverest economists have beards, apart from when they don't, and very intricate sums are required to show that 12 year olds should work 15 hrs a day to fund genetically unfortunate imbeciles in palaces. If only the Pope knew this. Engels, and his detractors, so understood balance of trade, that they both managed to get it wrong, swapsies being equal, rip-offs being rip-offs, and time-variable prices making time-variable sums. The balance of trade shows the volume, if you add both sides, and the quest for autonomy and self-sufficiency remains fundamentally impossible, although the earth managed it billions of years ago, without thinking at all.

As Karl spent an awfully tedious while explaining, it is difficult to own property if someone else does, but that shouldn't stop one trying. The best arrangement is to have house prices rising for people who own houses, and house prices falling for people who don't. To make a commodity price rise and fall simultaneously, in the same market, is one of the most notable successes of modern economics. Although transparently ridiculous to a retarded termite, after suitably strenuous education, the emergence of bat-caped academagicians has heralded the revelation that the price of a finite resource will tend towards infinite, and the best thing to do is to pay as much as possible for land that is already there, just in case it otherwise disappears. Sacrificing children to the Sun is something completely different, from a more primitive and embarrassing time.

On planets transitioning to abiological labour - every job a cog in the machine - efficiency = redundancy, in cycles, until they find other things to do, the possibilities of movement being infinite. Transcending such physics is surely one of humanity's greatest achievements to date. Non-physical humans can't be pulled around willy-nilly by invisible forces like so many iron filings. The good news is that this means they can never be forced into destructive behaviour contradictory to their own interests, like war or environmental catastrophe. A sterile planet would end all suffering, but unfortunately, this most final solution of all is unlikely without reality, and the same non-existent forces that, if not so tragically obviously absent, could just as easily arrange the filings constructively, in symbiotic alignment, across the face of the earth, as surely as the sunrise.


REJ:- Yes that twister diagram is perfect, wealth% in 10% popn blocks. The Wizard of Oz hides behind the curtain of numbers, and humans are wired for yellow brick geometry.