Southerly: The Secret Poetry of Economists
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I note, however, that you've inadvertently spelt it correctly -- thus missing the opportunity to demonstrate your deliberately ironic juxtaposition with "sleepers", and your solidarity with the common man.
Not to mention "sleepers'" evocation of the railways, and their role in infrastructure investment.
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David, meet Philip. Seriously, you should check this blogger out if you don't know him, I think the two of you might have been separated at birth.
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You're obviously not familiar with Bollard's erotic work.
Soon to be published, under the title Rising Bollards.
I can dream.
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Jolisa wrote:
Soon to be published, under the title 'Rising Bollards'.
We'll be issuing a special edition with that title for our British readers.
giovanni tiso wrote:
David, meet Philip... I think the two of you might have been separated at birth.
I do believe you're accusing me of curmudgeonliness, Dr Tiso. I'll have you know that I am a sensitive and poetical individual. Cut open my head, and you'll find it stuffed full of tygers burning bright and summer's leases hathing all too short a date.
I am seriously displeased with your comment, and may have to register a company under your name in Belize in order to teach you a harsh lesson. Yes, that's right, Dr Tiso, don't fuck with me: I'll go to the mattresses* if I have to...
(*Just a little Siege of Florence joke there)
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I believe being able to distinguish between the numbers four and six may be a prerequisite for an economics career.
Oh ho, I think now we begin to get the true story behind Russell's departure from The Listener...
Pam: "You know full well that home-time isn't until VI o'clock, Russell. But I've distinctly noticed that when the little hand points to IV, you just get up and leave. You know our policy: we don't care what you rite [sic], just as long as you put in the hours!"
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I do believe you're accusing me of curmudgeonliness, Dr Tiso
Not necessarily. He might just be accusing me of southerliness; which would be geographically, temperamentally, ethnically and stereotypically erroneous, but not necessarily offensive unless I can get him to pay my costs in a libel action.
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A curmudgeon would not pop in so reasonably..
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Philip Challinor wrote:
... not necessarily offensive unless I can get him to pay my costs in a libel action.
Of course, possibly a more sensible alternative is for us both to chip in and hire someone to beat him up (I know people in Upper Hutt).
According to his data, Tiso resides in Wellington. It's a small town, so our beat-up guys will probably have no trouble finding him.
With his Italian origins, he can probably be spotted as the best-dressed person in the city. Alternatively, he may be wearing a large moustache and driving an ice-cream van.
Best if we instruct them to beat up both types.
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Alternatively, he may be wearing a large moustache and driving an ice-cream van.
rofflenui
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With his Italian origins, he can probably be spotted as the best-dressed person in the city. Alternatively, he may be wearing a large moustache and driving an ice-cream van.
Just stake out the embassy. He'll have to go in and vote for a new government sooner rather than later.
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I do believe you're accusing me of curmudgeonliness, Dr Tiso.
Actually, I was accusing you of awesomeness. Philip knows how I feel.
Just stake out the embassy. He'll have to go in and vote for a new government sooner rather than later.
I'll have you know we vote by post these days. To make tampering a little easier, for we are corrupt but fundamentally also very lazy.
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A reply in way of a story
As I walked through the countryside I met two men walking in the opposite direction. One was as lightness and gaiety, the other looked upon his companion with disdain.I greeted the angrier of the two gentlemen, as the other had suddenly become incredibly interested in the dappling of light as it passed through the leaves of an aging oak tree. He returned my hello and we began a conversation. He was an economist, and knowing nothing of the subject I asked him what it was like.
"Fucking", he replied to my slight astonishment. "Fucking and fucking and fucking and fucking and poetry".
I was clearly taken back so he sought to clarify.
"A tax rebate, for example, can be described like this..." he closed his eyes and drew breath
"I return home
after broken pens and infinite meetings
after email failures and idiot clients
after soul-breaking and cubicle hatred
I return home
Where my lover greets me
and kisses me hard.
We pull each other to the ground
and fuck in the doorway where
the neighbours can hear her climax"He opened his eyes and looked at me awkwardly, "it goes on like that". I smiled to reassure him.
I gestured towards the other man who smiled and waved at us. "Is he an Economist too?"
"Oh God no! He's a mathematician and doesn't get it at all. They think it's all about love"
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I want to see love poetry of merchant bankers. Specifically young merchant bankers of the 1980s.
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LET us go then, you and I,
When the economy is splattered against the sky
Like a patient cauterised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted malls,
The muttering calls
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust dealing rooms with warning bells:
Streets that follow like a tedious Budget
Of insidious fudge-it
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, do not ask, “What the fuck?”
Let us go and make our buck.
In the room the women come and goTalking of asset ratios.
Someone else can finish it.I have to go and talk to economists now.
Yes. Really.
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I want to see love poetry of merchant bankers. Specifically young merchant bankers of the 1980s.
Well, you asked for it:
Rah rah for our Essex affairs,
As my stock penetrates and she shares;
I'm a red-tied young tup
On the up, up and up -
Let us make like the bulls and the bears!In the throes of erotic elation
I thrust, thrash and squeal at my station:
We FTSE all night,
And my scrotum gets tight
In the rapture of deregulation! -
Actually, I was accusing you of awesomeness.
And now you know exactly what I meant.
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We FTSE all night
Genius.
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For truly great poetry, there is always a line (or lines) that lift it from the merely pretty to the sublime; that transform the voice of man into the voice of an angel.
In Challinor's emotion-wrenching tribute to 1980s merchant bankers, I think it was undeniably the words: "And my scrotum gets tight".
Actually, I was accusing you of awesomeness. Philip knows how I feel.
Oops, sorry for the misunderstanding, Giovanni. Now I feel as if I've been a bit of a ... er... curmudgeon.
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Now I feel as if I've been a bit of a ... er... curmudgeon.
Don't be silly now. I like it though if I have a small part in bringing fine minds together, and it was a pleasure recently to introduce Lyndon and Philip to each other's work. Their ability to channel Ambrose Bierce alone demands the highest praise.
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"If science can take on God, it should not fear the market. Both are, after all, creations of man. "
"We must stop perpetuating the fiction that existence itself is dictated by the immutable laws of economics."
and Poets.
"The economic model has broken, for good. It's time to stop pretending it describes our world."
The above excerpts from this picked up from Arts and Letter Daily:
http://www.edge.org/3rd_culture/rushkoff09/rushkoff09_index.html
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I thought
I might join in,
feelings of inadequacy restrained.
Cheat and use Google.Did you know, there is a website for everything these days?
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Recessional
The gleamers have turned into rusters,
The boomers decayed into busters;
I'm under an onus
To pay back my bonus;
I think I've been fucked in the clusters. -
Fabulous. Send the man some coffee! (oh, different thread)
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Agreed, indeed.
ConfessionalA limerick exhorts me to sin
A good one! – I have to be in
But the spirit of Lear
(That’s Ed, not Shakespeare)
Means the quality’s often a disappointment. -
So long I've been able to lark it
Because of my trust in the market;
But now I'm betrayed
And lost and afraid,
I'm off to a hermitage, fark it.
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