Scratches to Sketches
Friday, 12 August 2016
Thursday, 11 August 2016
Friday, 5 August 2016
Thursday, 4 August 2016
Wednesday, 3 August 2016
THE REAL ECONOMICS OF GROWTH AND DEVELOPMENT
THE REAL ECONOMICS OF GROWTH AND DEVELOPMENT
By Arthur Lake
Politics interferes with growth and development more than people like to admit. Japan has always had thousands of very small firms that actively develop to the needs of a few very large firms. Japan can infinitely produce more than it can sell. For Japan to grow it needs to negotiate trade arrangements that allow its surpluses a market elsewhere.
Economies of scale and a multiplicity of downward cost curves yet in a world that is growing more protectionist means that for Japan to grow it needs to expand its domestic demand.
The best thing would be a significant shift in the mix of what the Japanese buy. By having the government do more, households have more to spend and can trade up on quality. Thus, expansion of government spending while lowering taxes would spur growth.
This means running a significant deficit and potentially inflation as consumers shift to higher priced better quality items, which incidently would be easier to export.
Trading up consumption, trading up government participation in R and D. Paying higher wages and raising interest rates for savings through the issuance of high return Government bonds available ONLY to lower income households would change the mix of financial returns away from the stock market to government backed pension savings.
Higher government debt works in the correct direction weakening the exchange rate and discouraging external borrowing. By having wage inflation and higher disposable incomes the internal demand would grow while commerce makes bigger profits on downward sloping cost curves.
The stock market would grow on real returns. The pressure on domestic demand and higher incomes would pay down government debt sooner while the public sector expands and expands.
Everyone would be better off including the rest of the world.
Now vary the country name from Japan to Great Britain, United States, China, etc and ask why the world is not growing ...
Arthur
Tuesday, 2 August 2016
GHOST WORDS AND RESULTING SELECTION OF POETRY
GHOST WORDS AND RESULTING SELECTION OF POETRY
Friday, I turned on my ghost machine for 'random' words to stir imaginings, then put some of those words into a Google search to see what would happen. The results are the discovery of a poem and one ghost recommended, and it is about how nature fills our emotions and makes life meaningful in wonderful ways.
I share the source and the poem with you for your quiet enjoyment in a lull of your very busy day. Enjoy!
I would remind that a single effect has many causes. Some are hard to discover!
From: Friday, Jul 29, 2016, 4:00 pm
To: Friday, Jul 29, 2016, 4:41 pm
At Starbucks in London, Ontario
Sensitivity:
Medium Sensitivity
Words Spoken:
4:40:48 pm : poetry
4:40:32 pm : coach
4:33:20 pm : gentle
4:32:48 pm : deep
4:32:00 pm : wild
4:31:44 pm : shut
4:31:44 pm : thy
4:31:12 pm : blow
Signals Detected:
4:41:51 pm : GREEN
4:41:52 pm : GREEN
4:41:53 pm : GREEN
4:42:19 pm : GREEN
Poem, some 218 years old, for your enjoyment ...
COMPOSED A FEW MILES ABOVE TINTERN ABBEY, ON REVISITING THE BANKS OF THE WYE DURING A TOUR. JULY 13, 1798
FIVE years have past; five summers, with the length Of five long winters! and again I hear These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs With a soft inland murmur.--Once again Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, That on a wild secluded scene impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect The landscape with the quiet of the sky. The day is come when I again repose Here, under this dark sycamore, and view
10 These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts, Which at this season, with their unripe fruits, Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves 'Mid groves and copses. Once again I see These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms, Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke Sent up, in silence, from among the trees! With some uncertain notice, as might seem Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods,
20 Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire The Hermit sits alone. These beauteous forms, Through a long absence, have not been to me As is a landscape to a blind man's eye: But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind, With tranquil restoration:--feelings too
30 Of unremembered pleasure: such, perhaps, As have no slight or trivial influence On that best portion of a good man's life, His little, nameless, unremembered, acts Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust, To them I may have owed another gift, Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood, In which the burthen of the mystery, In which the heavy and the weary weight Of all this unintelligible world,
40 Is lightened:--that serene and blessed mood, In which the affections gently lead us on,-- Until, the breath of this corporeal frame And even the motion of our human blood Almost suspended, we are laid asleep In body, and become a living soul: While with an eye made quiet by the power Of harmony, and the deep power of joy, We see into the life of things. If this Be but a vain belief, yet, oh! how oft--
50 In darkness and amid the many shapes Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart-- How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, O sylvan Wye! thou wanderer thro' the woods, How often has my spirit turned to thee! And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought, With many recognitions dim and faint, And somewhat of a sad perplexity,
60 The picture of the mind revives again: While here I stand, not only with the sense Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts That in this moment there is life and food For future years. And so I dare to hope, Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first I came among these hills; when like a roe I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, Wherever nature led: more like a man
70 Flying from something that he dreads, than one Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then (The coarser pleasures of my boyish days, And their glad animal movements all gone by) To me was all in all.--I cannot paint What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love,
80 That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.--That time is past, And all its aching joys are now no more, And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur, other gifts Have followed; for such loss, I would believe, Abundant recompence. For I have learned To look on nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes
90 The still, sad music of humanity, Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue. And I have felt A presence that disturbs me with the joy Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime Of something far more deeply interfused, Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, And the round ocean and the living air, And the blue sky, and in the mind of man; A motion and a spirit, that impels
100 All thinking things, all objects of all thought, And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still A lover of the meadows and the woods, And mountains; and of all that we behold From this green earth; of all the mighty world Of eye, and ear,--both what they half create, And what perceive; well pleased to recognise In nature and the language of the sense, The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
110 Of all my moral being. Nor perchance, If I were not thus taught, should I the more Suffer my genial spirits to decay: For thou art with me here upon the banks Of this fair river; thou my dearest Friend, My dear, dear Friend; and in thy voice I catch The language of my former heart, and read My former pleasures in the shooting lights Of thy wild eyes. Oh! yet a little while May I behold in thee what I was once,
120 My dear, dear Sister! and this prayer I make, Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all
130 The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon Shine on thee in thy solitary walk; And let the misty mountain-winds be free To blow against thee: and, in after years, When these wild ecstasies shall be matured Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,
140 Thy memory be as a dwelling-place For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then, If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief, Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance-- If I should be where I no more can hear Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams Of past existence--wilt thou then forget That on the banks of this delightful stream
150 We stood together; and that I, so long A worshipper of Nature, hither came Unwearied in that service: rather say With warmer love--oh! with far deeper zeal Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget, That after many wanderings, many years Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs, And this green pastoral landscape, were to me More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake!
1798.
Wednesday, 27 July 2016
Monday, 25 July 2016
Trump’s vision of America is ugly and dark. Clinton should respond with hope | Michael Cohen | Opinion | The Guardian
Indoctrination explodes in Cleveland ...
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2016/jul/24/hillary-clinton-counter-donald-trump-rants-vision-optimistic-america-republican-party-nominee
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2016/jul/24/hillary-clinton-counter-donald-trump-rants-vision-optimistic-america-republican-party-nominee
Saturday, 23 July 2016
Friday, 22 July 2016
Wednesday, 20 July 2016
Sunday, 17 July 2016
Sunday, 10 July 2016
Thursday, 7 July 2016
Tuesday, 14 June 2016
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