Gerontion
I got into Aeonic Magick before I realised, and by then it was too late.
Aeonics is fucked, and I’m an expert!
Keep your fervent eyes upon China.
As an (older) Aeonic Magician I moved beyond (party) politics, reverted to economics and gained a longer-term (eventually spiritual) view.
Tariffs are fucked! End of section. Full stop.
Tariffs – A Parade: Norse900 and I used to trade goods. I’d send him mine and he’d send me his. But fuck Norse900 – every time he sends me stuff; I’m going to flay myself with a metal-embedded cat-o-nine tails. And that bastard is going to have watch me tear my skin and rip my flesh – and there’ll be my blood everywhere. And I expect Norse900 to take revenge by dousing himself in methylated spirits and lighting up!
I’m going to declare economic war on Norse900 and he’ll do the same to me. Then we’ll reach a temporary agreement and both of us – mainly me! – will be declared a hero! (You got that? HERO!)
Let me repeat: Keep your long-term eyes on China.
Suppose that Norse900 has a farm, “Norse’s Acres,” and I work for him. Having become steeped in pro-tariff ideas, Norse900 exhorts me to “buy’ “from Norse Acres.” “Keep the money in Norse Acres,” “don’t be exploited by the flood of products from the cheap labour of foreigners outside Norse Acres,” and similar maxims become the watchword of both of us. To make sure that our aim is accomplished, Norse90 levies a 1000-percent tariff on the imports of all goods and services from “abroad,” i.e., from outside the farm. As a result, Norse900 and I see our leisure, or “problems of unemployment,” disappear as we work from dawn to dusk and candlelit beyond trying to eke out the production of all the goods we desire. Many we cannot raise at all; others we can, given centuries of effort. It is true that we reap the promise of the protectionists: “self-sufficiency,” although the “sufficiency” is bare subsistence instead of a comfortable standard of living. Money is “kept at home,” and we can pay each other very high nominal wages and prices, but find that the real value of our wages, in terms of barter/goods, plummets drastically.
Anyway, I don’t care. Get fucked!
“Here I am, an old man in a dry month, Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain.”
O.U.A.