Dear All,
Budget night has come and gone and some colleagues at the Institute have drawn my attention to the need for an analysis that meets the needs of the common man. Not for me the high faluting language of the Economics PhD with the J-curve hanging out of his back pocket and a glint in his eye that says he's going to go co-variant regression on your sorry ass. Or arse as the case may be.
It has indeed fallen to me to translate the rude vernacular of the dismal science into the Queen's English. And from there to translate the Queen's English into a local dialect of Farsi that is more or less user friendly to the man on the street. (Please note I am well aware of the gender discriminatory bias in my language. But let's face it, while the women retire to do the dishes it's down to the guys to break out the port and cigars. Well, at least I would but my wife controls the finances in my house and there's nothing left in the household budget for either strong liquor or carcinogens.)
It helps I think to imagine the Australian economy as a biscuit barrel. Probably a biscuit barrel that is a mite bigger than Auntie Beryl's. We can then think of the Gross Domestic Product (or GDP) as the total number of biscuits in said receptacle(or TNBSR). We can then imagine that the investment in national infrastructure is akin to buying three or four more biscuit barrels. Or at least promising to buy three or more biscuit barrels in the next twenty years or so. Though how we're going to afford to fill those extra containers is a bit beyond me as yet.
The current accounts deficit then is the difference between the number of Tim-Tams currently residing in the sweet pastry filled urn and the number we've promised to donate to the parish fete. Though if it's a deficit then it must be a negative quantity of biscuits. Or cookies if we deal in U.S. currency. If anyone can tell me the current exchange rate of Iced Vo-vos to Oriels I would be eternally grateful (though not in any legally binding or indeed financially debilitating sense). Now a negative quantity of biscuits is not an insurmountable conceptual leap if we invoke quantum mechanics, though I'll leave you to do the heavy shifting re the maths.
The Treasurer then is the local greengrocer who vends said yummy confections. The only difference is that the government minister wears a smarter cut of suit and is more likely to come round to your house and poison the azaleas if he thought there might be a dollar in it.
Hopefully this has clarified the issues. If not, send me a cheque or money order for 25 packets of Milk Arrowroot bikkies and I'll gladly come round for a cup of tea and show you my collection of Burkina Faso zinc roubles.
Thank you for your time
Sunday, May 24, 2009
Monday, May 18, 2009
On Immigration
Dear All,
The vexed subject of immigration has once again surfaced in the quality press. In response to growing concern among the gatekeepers of common sense in this country - talk back radio DJs, conservative politicians, guinea pigs with cerebral contusions and agoutis - I have taken it upon myself to conduct a little on the ground research (under the ground research having proven to be a little physically taxing).
My methodology was as breathtaking in its simplicity as it was inaccurate in its deployment. I would speak to the average Australian and glean his views. As luck would have it, the average Australian lives three doors down from me. In order to respect his privacy I will refer to him as Malcom. His wife, Jillian Blanchard Bottleneck, was most insistent on this point due to his position as branch manager working for one of the big four Australian banks (though not the National Australia Bank,Westpac or ANZ).
He proffered the opinion that there were too many queue jumpers in this country. He then proceeded to proffer my knees until I insisted that he stop. I asked him about the government's response to people smuggling and he suggested that it was alright in as far as it went but was deficient in one or two minor aspects. When asked for more detail re these deficiencies, he pointed out the lack of shooting of uranium enriched warheads at arriving boats as one area in which our federal gatekeepers had dropped the proverbial spherical object.
In order to get the other side of the story I decided to interview a typical asylum seeker. In one of those amazing coincidences that makes the laws of chance look decidedly shonky - ha!ha! take that Law of Independent Probabilities - a typical illegal immigrant lived four doors down from me. Literally. He had arranged four doors into some kind of makeshift shelter. So with a spring in my step and a song in my heart (both conditions can be medically treated I am reliably informed though the cardiologist has told me that the latter will require lifetime medication) I arrived at the doorstep of Mr. X. After some confusion about which doorstep I should use he invited me in and then proceeded to lecture me on the corruption and decadence prevalent in the West and how it was impossible to get access to a decent trouser-press these days. He then railed about the baleful influence of the 'Great Satan' in the modern world. In fact, the 'Great Satan' turned out to be Mr. Milson from No. 14 who had borrowed and not yet returned Mr X's leaf blower - an offence punishable by death in his culture. Problematically, possession of a leaf blower was also a capital offense and so my interviewee had found himself ensconced in an ethical dilemma that I was unable to advise him on. I made my excuses and tried to leave quickly through what I thought was the back door but which in fact led to a fracture in the time-space continuum. I was momentarily trapped in an alternative dimension where everything was exactly the same as our world except that barnacles were used as currency.
The experience has affected me deeply and given me a great deal of insight into the intractable nature of this issue. If you'll just excuse me, I'm going to have a little lie down and sort it all out after lunch.
Thank you for your time.
NOTE: It has been brought to my attention that the above comments may have been offensive to agoutis. If this is indeed the case then I apologise unreservedly. At least I apologise to agoutis of the genus Dasyprocta. Members of the genus Myoprocta can, however, go back to whatever backwater of the world they come from and stop stealing Australian jobs.
The vexed subject of immigration has once again surfaced in the quality press. In response to growing concern among the gatekeepers of common sense in this country - talk back radio DJs, conservative politicians, guinea pigs with cerebral contusions and agoutis - I have taken it upon myself to conduct a little on the ground research (under the ground research having proven to be a little physically taxing).
My methodology was as breathtaking in its simplicity as it was inaccurate in its deployment. I would speak to the average Australian and glean his views. As luck would have it, the average Australian lives three doors down from me. In order to respect his privacy I will refer to him as Malcom. His wife, Jillian Blanchard Bottleneck, was most insistent on this point due to his position as branch manager working for one of the big four Australian banks (though not the National Australia Bank,Westpac or ANZ).
He proffered the opinion that there were too many queue jumpers in this country. He then proceeded to proffer my knees until I insisted that he stop. I asked him about the government's response to people smuggling and he suggested that it was alright in as far as it went but was deficient in one or two minor aspects. When asked for more detail re these deficiencies, he pointed out the lack of shooting of uranium enriched warheads at arriving boats as one area in which our federal gatekeepers had dropped the proverbial spherical object.
In order to get the other side of the story I decided to interview a typical asylum seeker. In one of those amazing coincidences that makes the laws of chance look decidedly shonky - ha!ha! take that Law of Independent Probabilities - a typical illegal immigrant lived four doors down from me. Literally. He had arranged four doors into some kind of makeshift shelter. So with a spring in my step and a song in my heart (both conditions can be medically treated I am reliably informed though the cardiologist has told me that the latter will require lifetime medication) I arrived at the doorstep of Mr. X. After some confusion about which doorstep I should use he invited me in and then proceeded to lecture me on the corruption and decadence prevalent in the West and how it was impossible to get access to a decent trouser-press these days. He then railed about the baleful influence of the 'Great Satan' in the modern world. In fact, the 'Great Satan' turned out to be Mr. Milson from No. 14 who had borrowed and not yet returned Mr X's leaf blower - an offence punishable by death in his culture. Problematically, possession of a leaf blower was also a capital offense and so my interviewee had found himself ensconced in an ethical dilemma that I was unable to advise him on. I made my excuses and tried to leave quickly through what I thought was the back door but which in fact led to a fracture in the time-space continuum. I was momentarily trapped in an alternative dimension where everything was exactly the same as our world except that barnacles were used as currency.
The experience has affected me deeply and given me a great deal of insight into the intractable nature of this issue. If you'll just excuse me, I'm going to have a little lie down and sort it all out after lunch.
Thank you for your time.
NOTE: It has been brought to my attention that the above comments may have been offensive to agoutis. If this is indeed the case then I apologise unreservedly. At least I apologise to agoutis of the genus Dasyprocta. Members of the genus Myoprocta can, however, go back to whatever backwater of the world they come from and stop stealing Australian jobs.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)