Thursday, 23 June 2011

Martin Feldstein says we're all going to die blah blah blah

I already knew that. I knew that Death was coming for each of us. I knew when I was born. I didn't know we would all go at the same time, but you live, then you learn, then you die, carrying your knowledge, and any wisdom you may have, and any happiness - as Sophocles' ghost will be able to tell you - down into the grave. It's perfectly natural. There is no need to be alarmed.

But we have to apportion blame. We have to blame Greece. You could argue that civilization started there. And that is where it will end, it seems. The Greeks spent too much money that just did not exist. They imagined they were rich. Imagine that! A nation of visionaries; they saw the money in their minds. It wasn't in their pockets. How tragic!

Martin Feldstein doesn't actually say we're all going to die. I'm hallucinating beyond his words. He says Greece will have to default at some point. This will lead to defaults in Portugal, Ireland, and Spain. European banks will collapse. And then, this is me: bloodthirsty gangs will roam the streets. Killers will look us all in the eye, shamelessly. There'll be no escape. Obviously, I'm an insane prophet, but Mr Feldstein is a professor of economics at Harvard University. Together, we make a lot of sense. Together, we can peer into hell ...

Alone, however, I can discover the meaning of it. Something's broken, and something's burning, in all of us. There is a demonic energy waiting to come out, and fragments of pain. Yes, there is still pain. It would be wise to leave the civilized man behind. His words are only a springboard for horror. I won't peer into hell, I'll walk into it! No, I'm already there. In fact, I am hell. So many self-realizations! I'm almost the savage god I've always wanted to be. This is a red-letter day, definitely. Maybe now I'll be able to accept myself. Of course, my reader(s), this doesn't solve your problems. You haven't picked a side yet. I know Mr Feldstein won't be coming with me. He'll lock himself away at Harvard, with his books, hoping, and praying - if he has religion - that the barbarians will leave him half-alive. But what will you do, my lonely individual, my frightened 'you'? Are you my soulmate, or victim?

My child, are you a butcher, or are you a lamb?