E&C Return #2: Eagle Concludes Conventional Economics Is Not All It’s Cracked Up To Be

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Eagle had always had a good brain, but had mainly confined himself to aviation during during his early years as symbol of the United States of America, and leader of all eagles in the country.

He was actually an exceptional aviator with a deep knowledge of the academic disciplines that a combat flyer needed to be acquainted with, but he hadn’t progressed much in other fields until Cuckoo challenged him. Then he had applied himself with vigor and had made remarkable progress, particularly in economics. His version was called ‘Eagleomics.’

Initially, the name change had struck Cuckoo as little more than a demonstration of Eagle’s sense of humor, but over time he had begun to realize that Eagle had intended meant much more than that. In fact, what he was really doing was evolving a whole new discipline which incorporated the best of economics but which actually worked. And slowly but surely, he was getting there. Or Cuckoo thought he was.

“You know, a lot of sound thinking has gone into economics,” said Eagle, “but the bottom line is that economics, as currently practiced, doesn’t work. If it did, we wouldn’t be in the economic mess we’re in now.”

“Fair point,” said Cuckoo.

“And yet, almost no one in the profession is really questioning the fundamentals of economics apart from a few notable exceptions like Stiglitz, Krugman and Ha-Joon Chang,” said Eagle.

Cuckoo made a mental note to ask about Ha-Joon Chang. “Why do you think that is?” he said.

Eagle chuckled. “JK Galbraith put it as well as anyone could,” he said. “Let me quote: ‘In any great organization, it is far, far safer to be wrong with the majority than to be right alone.”

 

 

 

E&C Return. #1. There Be Monsters Under the Bed…

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Eagle put his iPad aside for the moment. It was an invaluable tool for keeping up with events but sometimes the news was so depressing, he just wanted to soar into the sky and do some aerobatics.

He knew had to be incredibly well informed if he was to play a leading role in the Great Plan to save America – Cuckoo’s idea by the way – but there were times when he wondered whether all those human Americans were worth saving. They seemed to be nearly as dumb as owls, and owls – as everyone knew - were the dumbest birds in the sky. 

“The issues aren’t very well reported,” he said, “but if you take the trouble to look, most of the information about Eagle-Land’s decline is there,” he said. “But Americans don’t seem to want to look.”

“They are afraid,” said Cuckoo. “They don’t want to look under the bed because they are terrified of what they’ll find. There be monsters there you know. And they don’t want to find that the American Way of Life has been largely a myth for the last forty years. ”

“Very true,” said Eagle. “But has it occurred to them that if they don’t deal with the monsters, the monsters are going to deal with them.”

“You’re thinking logically,” said Cuckoo, “just like an eagle. But humans don’t think logically. They’re more like ostriches.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of Eagle & Cuckoo; And The Dangers of Experimentation

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Do I think writers should experiment?

Yes I do – even though it increases the likelihood of failure. Fortunately failure is often how we learn. And it can be both painful and humiliating – especially for an artist who performs in public. Worse yet when you perform in public and leave behind a permanent record – which is what writers do. Mind you, between the prevalence of multimedia recording tools today, and social media, there are few human activities which aren’t in danger of being recorded and communicated for posterity. Now there’s a chilling thought.

Oh to be Shakespeare, and have enough sense to use your early failures to start the morning fire with. Who wants to be reminded of one’s early literary efforts!

Which reminds me: I once used to live near Anne Hathaway’s cottage. Visited it too. I was about six at the time and sat in the rumble seat of my mother’s boyfriend’s red sports car. Very exciting. He was a professional criminal of great charm and eventually retired to Spain and respectability. So, now I think of it, did my mother. But, she had remarried by then and become a countess.

I’m thinking about experimentation because my plan is to advance Eagle & Cuckoo on two tracks. On the one hand, E&C will be the focus of books. On the other hand, they will feature in short blogs making pithy observations about the U.S. economy and the American way of life in general.

But I’m not used to writing short pieces. Very true, and I have a suspicion that it’s harder to write short than long, but that’s where experimentation comes in. And if I make a fool of myself, so be it.

But I live in hopes E&C won’t let me down.

Ah, but how short is short?

I’ll let you know when I know. Perhaps 250 words. 

 

 

Whatever Happened To Eagle & Cuckoo?

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Eagle & Cuckoo (E&C to their friends) are alive and well. Indeed, they are thriving. However, I stopped writing about them on a daily basis because I fell in love.

With them, may I add.

Frankly, it is not the first time in my life that I have fallen in love with two ‘birds’ (UK slang for women) but it is certainly the first time that I have become so fond of two actual birds – and both male at that. But, tolerance is one of life’s finer qualities; and this wasn’t sexual. It was creative passion – the highest form of love of them all. Or such is my view as I write this. I have held different views at different times under different circumstances.  Love is both an imperative; and a broad church. And it can mean a whole lot of trouble. But not, I hope, in this case.

E&C started off as an experiment. I wanted to find out could I comment on the U.S. political situation in a less in-your-face manner than most opinion columns; and I thought humor might be the right approach. And then Eagle & Cuckoo just popped into my mind, along with their manic world. And the rest just evolved. Authors write about their characters taking over. This was an all encompassing occupation. E&C’s world, and their values, became as real to me as more own.

I ceased writing E&C for a while because I wanted to turn their story into a book. That meant a great deal of work because first I had to set the scene, then link what I had written to date into a coherent storyline, and then drum up a middle and an end. I wanted the story to end with a bang. I am, primarily  (where my published books are concerned) a thriller writer. Action is my business.

The deed is now done. I’m amazed, exhilarated and delighted. But what comes next?

#21. EAGLE FINDS OUT WARLOCK’S IDENTITY; AND IS BOGGLE-EYED (A Bird’s Eye View Of The Mess We’re In)

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A few days later, EAGLE both felt, and looked, much refreshed; and CUCKOO felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“I may just go for a walk,” he said. “Fresh air and all that. A sort of constitutional.”

EAGLE looked at him sternly. “CUCKOO,” he said. “Don’t you know eagles never forget.”

“I thought that was elephants,” said CUCKOO. “Or are they heffalumps? Good creatures, though it’s never a good idea to offend them. Or sit behind them. Or have water-pistol fights with them. Not enough creatures know that.”

“I need to know everything there is to know about the creatures that are trying to kill me,” said EAGLE. “It’s hard enough learning eagleomics without thinking about about a bunch of psychotic vultures and snakes. It’s distracting me academically. Besides, it’s normally a very good idea to hit them before they hit you. I think Caesar said that, or if he didn’t, he should have. Otherwise it’s normally that Chinese fellow.”

“Is that really a good idea?” said CUCKOO. “Do you really want to get to know these things. Vultures are nasty thugs with foul habits; and as for those snakes: Who knows what they get up to down South. And I hear they do such-and-such, and so-and-so, and duel with banjos a lot. Dubious behavior.”

“I couldn’t give a flying canoodle?” said EAGLE. “We’re talking about Warlock. Spill the beans. You said he wasn’t a vulture, but you weren’t very clear after that. Talk; or I’ll put the EIS on you. And they won’t laugh at your jokes.”

The EIS, as the reader will know, is the infamously humorless – but effective - Eagle Investigation Service. They were particularly tough on crows. EAGLE had no idea at all about how they felt about cuckoos. Anyway, he was only bluffing. But he was serious about finding out about Warlock. The creature had put a contract out on him and he took that personally. It was, as CUCKOO liked to say every now and then: “A diabolical liberty.”

“Um,” said CUCKOO. “Isn’t this a little soon to hear such a big secret?”

“You’re the one who mentioned him,” said EAGLE in a relentless tone of voice.

CUCKOO hung upside down from his perch for a full minute. He had the notion that it cleared his mind; all the dross dropped out. Then he swiveled upright. “Let’s get comfortable,” he said.

EAGLE set out the brandy, and they gazed out at a very beautiful evening in companionable silence. A security patrol flew by, and the air commandos saluted by waggling their wings. They did it with some brio. Aviators are like that.

“Warlock,” said CUCKOO, “is a –”  he thought a pause for dramatic effect might be appropriate – “newt.”

The word sounded as if he had been merely clearing his throat. That would never do.

“You spell it: N – E – W – T. Nasty little word really.”

EAGLE’s head went back in absolute amazement, and his eyes widened. Moments passed, and then he burst out laughing. “You mean one of those disgusting tiny poisonous creatures you find wriggling in the swamps?” he said incredulously.

“I couldn’t have described him better myself,” said CUCKOO. “But this particular newt is mostly to be found in Washington DC. – still a swamp, as you know. And he is incredibly greedy and destructive. He also has the ability to morph into various forms, but he prefers that of a human. Well, a sort of human.”

EAGLE became serious. “Go on,” he said.

“Warlock can be killed,” said CUCKOO, “though it is not easy; but he is always reincarnated in some other form because evil never goes away. This time around, the Council of the Good – my people - tried very hard to prevent him re-appearing, but the best we could do was have him re-born as a newt. We thought that might cramp his style, but then he robbed some graves – a leg here, a skull there - threw some dinosaur bones into the pile of spare parts he ended up with; and used his evil powers to stitch together a human form, and became a politician. It was, when you think about it, the obvious occupation; and he was very good at it. More recently, I think he’s too busy making money to keep his political skills sharp. But, not so long ago, at one stage, he was third in line for the presidency of EAGLE-LAND. We stopped him, but it was a close run thing.”

EAGLE was goggle-eyed. He’d imaged Warlock as many things, but not this. This was a nightmare.

“Him,” he gasped. THAT Newt!”

“One and the same,” said CUCKOO. “The one who collects dinosaur bones. He uses them for black magic, and unspeakable sexual rites. And now he’s actually running for the presidency. And he’s not the only candidate from the Dark World. There are two witches in there as well – though fortunately both are nuts. One turns into a mosquito when not in human form, and buzzes around a lot putting her proboscis where it is not wanted. Clever disguise. Lot of mosquitos in Alaska.

“Not sure about the other one, but I hear she runs around muttering: ‘Bubble, bubble, boil and trouble;’ and complains that her cauldron gives her headaches. Personally, I think she drinks too much tea; probably with something in it.”

“THEM!” said EAGLE, his rising voice in pure unadulterated shock. “What’s this country coming to!”

“That’s rather why I’m here,” said CUCKOO. “Your friends are concerned. The state of the nation is –“ he thought for a moment – “deteriorating. Nasty, nasty, word. Pretty nasty condition.”

He topped  up their glasses again. “Drink up. This one’s medicinal.”

“Who or what was Warlock in his previous incarnation?” said EAGLE when he had recovered.

CUCKOO cocked his head to one side, and then closed his eyes. The he opened them. “Just checking the records,” he said. “Hope you’re up for this, EAGLE.”

“Who was he?” said EAGLE.

“Reichsmarschall Herman Goering,” said CUCKOO. “Fat Herman. And you have to admit there’s a certain resemblance. But it means the bugger can fly.

“Goering was a Nazi, a war monger, and a mass murderer, but he was an ace in WW I. Won ‘The Blue Max.’

“Commanded Jagdeschwader 1 after The Red Baron was killed. But then you’re an ace too; and, frankly, you look fitter.”

EAGLE was speechless. “I’m going to look for flying pigs,” he said and went for a leisurely glide.

A few minutes later a flight of pigs flew by. They all wagged their tails in salute as they passed EAGLE.

He returned the salute, and then flew back to face CUCKOO, who was perched there grinning.

“Couldn’t resist,” said CUCKOO. 

“Who are you really, CUCKOO?” said EAGLE.

CUCKOO vanished just like that. However, his brandy glass, now unsupported, stayed just where it had been when CUCKOO was holding it. It was empty.

EAGLE ran a talon above it, below it and around it. There were no invisible wires.

He shook his head. “I’m dreaming,” he said; and promptly fell asleep.

#20. EAGLE DOES A LOT OF THINKING AND LISTENING. CUCKOO TALKS A LOT ABOUT EAGLEOMICS AND THE BIG LIE (A Birds Eye View Of the Mess We’re In)

The following day EAGLE took CUCKOO to Thinking Rock. It seemed a good place to talk, and he was damned if he was going to let a bunch of killers restrict his movements. Nonetheless, he traveled with a full escort, and followed such a bizarre course that CUCKOO got quite dizzy.

They zigged and zagged, and climbed and dived, and twisted and turned using what EAGLE called “standard evasion techniques.”

Jumping tree-frogs. It was a gut wrenching experience.

CUCKOO felt much better when on the ground. He was vastly impressed by Thinking Rock. It made him downright nostalgic for an earlier time. “This place was built by the ancients,” he said thoughtfully. “It’s not a natural formation. Instead they took this base rock – they were perched on it – put up slabs to left and right, and – unusually in this case - one behind; and then put a roofing slab in place. And it has stood here for thousands of years protecting this wonderful valley. It has a very special quality. I’m honored to have been brought here, EAGLE.”

“It’s my honor,” said EAGLE. He was feeling a bit stiff and sore today; and strangely melancholy. It been a tough fight, short but intense; brutally violent. There were consequences.

“How did they lift these slabs? They must weigh tons?”

“They used ramps and rollers, we think,” said CUCKOO discretely. “We don’t really know.”

EAGLE was fascinated. “It’s amazing what you can do if you use your mind,” he remarked.

“It’s impressive what havoc you can create if you don’t bother to,” said CUCKOO. “Look at the state of this country right now; and weep. And it’s all self-inflicted.”

EAGLE felt the weight of the world on his shoulders for a moment, and sighed. He wasn’t sure he was ready for all this. But he was EAGLE; and duty called.

“Ready to get back to work?” said CUCKOO sympathetically.

EAGLE nodded. CUCKOO’s tone helped. He felt a little better.

“In a way I’m describing a sort of war,” said CUCKOO. “A civil war, in this case, because we’re talking Americans against Americans: The Rich and Corporate Interests against the rest. And the Rich are winning.

“We tend to think in terms of war in terms of physical violence, but economic violence is just as significant; sometimes more so. Stress and penury take longer to kill, but they are just as lethal as combat.

“Either way, we are talking about a contest of wills between two opposing forces; with rewards for the winners, and pain and death for the losers. And we’re also talking about the clash of the two forces which have been battling since the beginning of time: Good versus Evil. Right versus Wrong. Greed versus Decency. In the end, everything is reduced to such forces.

“In this case – EAGLE-LAND - what started off as a reasonable economic struggle soon became corrupted – and greed began to dominate; and greed is nothing less than a manifestation of evil. That doesn’t mean that the individuals concerned were, or are, totally good or totally bad – we’re all something of a mixture – but more that the original free market rationale became corrupted; and evil gained, and still retains, the upper hand. Warlock is nothing if not an opportunist.”

Eagle was puzzled. “Who is Warlock?” he said.

“Think of him as my opposite number,” said Cuckoo, annoyed with himself for mentioning the name so soon. “He’s the focal point of what we’re up against.”

“Is he a vulture?” said EAGLE.

CUCKOO laughed grimly. “Some have called him a great deal worse,” he said. “In fact, he can appear in many guises. But enough of Warlock, for the moment. Let’s get back to eagleomics. It’s vital you understand the history of all this, or else none of it will make sense.

“Preparation in the Seventies; Execution in the Eighties; Consolidation in the Nineties; Excess in the Tens,” said EAGLE. “We were talking about the power grab made by the Right Mugs; and how they used President Reagan.”

“Actually, the man wasn’t all bad,” said CUCKOO, “but bad things were done in his name. He was really best at helping to bring down the Soviet Union. On the other hand, he was clueless about eagleomics.”

“Wasn’t Supply Side Economics one of his things,” said EAGLE. “What was that all about?”

“Supply Side Economics was based on the idea that if you cut taxes, the government will end up taking in more money because everyone will be motivated to work harder and invest more; so the economy will grow faster,” said CUCKOO. “It’s an idea that is still in vogue.”

“Does it work?” said EAGLE.

“No,” said CUCKOO firmly. “It was such a disaster under Reagan that the very man who pioneered it for him, David Stockman, director of the Office of Management and Budget, actually wrote a book condemning it. And where it has been tried elsewhere, the results have been similar. Nonetheless, it was highly successful as an excuse to cut taxes on the rich; and to give corporations a lot of tax breaks. In truth, it was a highly effective straw man. It was the first of a series of moves which made the Rich and Corporate Interests significantly richer; and forced the U.S. Government to sink deeper into debt. It started the rot and led to the mess we’re in today.”

EAGLE had been doing some reading. “But didn’t the economy grow under Reagan?” he asked.

“It did,” said CUCKOO, “but not nearly enough to replace the missing taxes. And it grew because you guys had a mammoth arms buildup,” said CUCKOO, “and because of debt; not because you invested in the kind of things that improve the quality of life.

“That’s one of the key differences between here, and CUCKOO-LAND, which you’ve seen for yourself. You guys use borrowed money to invest in weapons, and wars, and you let your infrastructure crumble. Europe, though far from perfect, saves more, and invests it in more efficient energy use, improving its cities, further developing its rail system, decent medical care for all; and so on.

“Eagleomics is heavily about choices and for decades EAGLE-LAND has made the wrong choices. You only have to look around to see that. Most American cities are a disgrace; and you can say much the same about infrastructure, the state of the environment, the educational system, the quality of housing, and health care. Not only do you under-invest, but you invest in the wrong things. And have been so doing for decades.”

EAGLE reflected again on his trip to Europe. It was true. Those CUCKOO-LAND people seemed to have the touch somehow. EAGLE-LAND had Detroit. Something was very wrong.

“Back to the debt issue,” said CUCKOO. “Under Reagan public debt rose from $712 billion in 1980 to $2,052 billion in 1988. He pretty much tripled the National Debt. If that reminds you of President George W. Bush, you are absolutely right. Bush also cut taxes for the rich, spent lavishly on armaments and wars, increased the National Debt to around $10 trillion, and left the economy in the worst mess it has been in since the Great Depression. In fact, it may yet prove to have been worse again. It’s not over yet. Unemployment is only part of it. The direction of American wages and salaries for most of the working population – other than the elites - is not healthy; and that includes Small Business.”

“There’s been a pattern to Right Mug government since Reagan’s time with the most consistent themes being that the Rich get richer, and earnings for the rest of the population stagnate or decline. The Right Mugs are widely touted as pro-business, but actually, they’re really only pro Big Business. Small Business is widely praised, but treated badly. Small businesses are started in droves, in this country, and they fail in droves. The odds are stacked against them in a host of ways. Their cost of capital – if they can get it - is too high, taxes are excessive, health costs are criminal, imports undercut them, and BIG Business slaughters them. And the banks and lawyers pick up the pieces at a profit.”

“It’s quite odd, really. You think all those Small Business entrepreneurs would scream, but somehow they can’t seem to get their act together. The Chamber of Commerce pretends to represent them; but it doesn’t. That organization is funded by the Big Boys. Primarily, this country is about bigness where business is concerned. Big Money, Big Politics, Big Law, and Big Business are all in bed together; and it’s a tragedy.”

“I still can’t get used to the idea that Americans don’t know about this,” said EAGLE.

“It’s called the Big Lie,” said CUCKOO. “Propaganda works. Americans are not encouraged to be introspective about the American Way of Life. It’s a given that it’s the best in the world; and it looks that way on TV. To question it is damn near high treason. We’re talking about a brainwashed nation combined with a lousy education system compounded by ideology, confused by religion, and the fact that learning eagleomics takes time and work. Add in my previous observation that American humans are peculiarly reluctant to listen. Thus, they don’t hear; and if you don’t hear, you cannot learn.”

He smiled gently and bowed his head slightly. “Fortunately, American eagles seem more willing.”

EAGLE, though fascinated, was feeling tired. He thought it highly probable that combat was less exhausting than wrestling with CUCKOO’S relentless intellect. And he didn’t like hearing America criticized even though he knew what CUCKOO was saying was correct. Evidently, he too had been brainwashed sufficiently for his cognitive faculties to be impaired. And he’d been brought up without TV! Propaganda was a foul thing. It stole your mind. Yet it was everywhere in EAGLE-LAND. 

“Let’s go fishing and take it easy,” said CUCKOO, resting a wing gently and briefly on EAGLE’S massive, but bruised, shoulders..

And so they did. For a time.

#.19 CUCKOO BEGINS TO EXPLAIN, AND EAGLE HEARS ABOUT WARLOCK (A Bird’s Eye View Of The Mess We’re In)

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CUCKOO felt vast relief when he knew EAGLE was safe. In truth, he had seen the whole flight from the time EAGLE had left his eyrie; though how he was ever going to explain that was an interesting question. But it was clear he was going to have to; and probably sooner rather than later.

He had been faced with a dilemma right from the beginning. His task was to prepare EAGLE for a very special mission, yet to do so in such a way, it all seemed a natural progression. But, the more EAGLE was prepared for his vital role, the better equipped he was to notice that CUCKOO wasn’t your average CUCKOO. And there lay the risk and the potential tragedy it all. The simple fact was that that there were some things that one couldn’t explain too quickly.

CUCKOO had learned that over a millennium and a half. There were good reasons why he was slow to confide. Many couldn’t take it unless they were properly prepared; and that took a great deal of time. Years as a minimum; decades for preference. It was scarcely surprising. What was required of them was, after all – though different in detail in every case - fairly extraordinary. The average creature, human, eagle, or otherwise, was really only equipped to deal with what he or she knew. To step beyond that was inconceivable; yet it had to be done. And it would be done. But it was demanding work; and it was stressful. Yet experience helped, and CUCKOO was nothing if not experienced.

When EAGLE returned, the first thing CUCKOO noticed was that he was covered in vulture blood. He laughed with some embarrassment when CUCKOO pointed out this fact, and took off for the waterfall where he normally showered. He looked a great deal better when he returned. He cracked open a bottle of wine and perched across from CUCKOO.

He raised his glass. “CUCKOO,” he said. “I believe I owe you my life.”

CUCKOO made a dismissive gesture. “I’m just glad you survived.”

“I had the sense throughout the whole affair that someone – some force – was watching over us,” EAGLE said. “Something prompted me to circle back and see my attackers,” he declared. “Some force ensured that our communications were perfect, which has never been the case in the past. And some friendly soul overrode my orders and assembled my entire Air Commando to come to our rescue. They should have been scattered snake hunting but mysteriously received direct orders to assemble and high-tail it across to me. And conveniently they can’t remember who issued the orders – but they thought it was me. Which it wasn’t.”

“You are a remarkably fine aviator,” said CUCKOO with some feeling. His heart had been in his mouth while he had watched the fight. There were matters he could influence, and things he could not. EAGLE’S victories in the direct fight had been his alone.

“Yes I am,” said EAGLE, “but I know there was more at work today than my ability to get on an opponent’s tail in less than forty seconds. Don’t ask me how I know. I just know. And I know you, CUCKOO, are behind it.”

CUCKOO drank his wine. “Oh dear,” he said eventually.

“Thank you,” said EAGLE, “but if you don’t tell what’s going on, I am liable to get testy. And you never want to mess with a testy eagle.”

CUCKOO grinned. “I might surprise you,” he said. “I am of a certain age (something of an understatement) but I am not helpless.”

EAGLE laughed. “Dragon’s breath, it’s good to be alive. Nothing raises the spirits more than to be nearly killed. And now tell me who is trying to kill me – and why.”

So CUCKOO did.

EAGLE went as pale as an eagle can (which is not very). “So that’s why I’m learning eagleomics,” he said. “Good grief. This thing is huge.”

You don’t know the half of it, thought CUCKOO, or close; but he stayed silent. EAGLE had been through enough, and had learned enough, for one day. He was progressing extraordinarily well.

EAGLE was lost in thought. Up to know, all his combat had been physical. Now he was going to have to battle intellectually and psychologically as well. The cause was worthy, but was he up to it? He longed to be carefree, where winning the physical fight was really all that counted. Instead he was facing up to a vastly more complex world than he had ever had to deal with before. Was he up to the task? He truly did not know. Was he willing to give it his all? He rather thought he was. Eagles were nothing if not purposeful.

He was aware of CUCKOO looking at him intently with great concern, and more than a little compassion. Then a great feeling of peace and contentment swept over him; and soon he slept.

High in the sky, his bodyguards circled, maneuvered and watched. They changed altitude and direction and were as unpredictable as could be. This was for real. There would be another attack; and they would be ready.

Beside him, CUCKOO enjoyed his wine; and thought deep thoughts in a relaxed kind of way until he, too, was asleep.

Nearly three thousand miles away, the WARLOCK replayed the events of the day, and raged. Surely a miserable eagle could not be defying him? Or were there other factors at work?