'you want nice capitalism? good luck with that...' (the call of cthuluminism)

so writes a friend.

oof. horsemouth has just received a how well your savings are doing letter (and the answer is they are not doing well at all). buy gold might be the answer etc. 

everything is subject to the rationality of the market. but the market is spooked by animal spirits, or, to be frank, it's more like call of cthulu - it is spooked by nightmares of creatures from a non-euclidean interstellar space.

those working in financial markets were the first affected, they were the most sensitive to the emanations. visions of giant pyramids filled their heads. giant pyramids of strange geometry collapsing. 

the UK is not the US. it cannot run permanent budget deficits because it is not printing the world's reserve currency. there is a very limited course of action that the markets (herinafter referred to as the old ones) will permit for a small and misbehaving country like the UK (and it's basically austerity). horsemouth of course welcomes our new overlords (they appear to us as lizards and gill-men because their true forms are too eldritch and disgusting).

but (of course) it has all basically been run by 'the markets' for all of horsemouth's life (the democratic politics out front is but a puppet show, albeit one with real consequences). there was a point, in his childhood where it was recommended he read the communist manifesto (aka. the necronomicon  of that mad arab al hazzared), horsemouth read it and, to his horror, he was convinced. 

lovecraft is (of course) the anti-melville. instead of a beautiful multi-racial proletariat made up of the nations of the world (like the crew of the peaquod) co-operating in joint purpose, the racist lovecraft sees mongrelised wharf trash, mulatto portuguese speakers from dunedin. 

a squirrel is burying nuts in the front garden (or maybe digging them up). 

of course six months ago (hell even one month ago) horsemouth's savings were doing well - they were doing super-well in fact, they were going up and horsemouth wasn't having to do any work for them to do so. he was enjoying the dues of the rentier.  he was riding on the coat-tails of capitalism into the promised land. 

it has been this way for a while. his savings make gains. the gains are wiped out. he always thinks he should have cashed out ahead of the crisis and then re-invested after it (but he's just not that sharp).

the state could tax the rich and use this to fund its ameliorative programs (there are actually possibilities within state socialism that would help people). it is just that it is not going to because the balance of forces is not there. some sectors of the working class will be able to defend themselves (for a while).

in any event it's not like horsemouth is rich and although he's on a somewhat restricted diet he's a way off starving. he may have to review his plan to escape the world of work (aka. exploitation) early that is all.  horsemouth is from a long line of don't bet the farm puritans. horsemouth loves the romance of development but he accepts that some capitalist eras are not favourable to it.

horsemouth is up late and has sat too long over typing this. it is the weekend (horsemouth has made it to the weekend). next week a management committee meeting at the weekend bst ends horsemouth goes round a friend's flat to play some music and have a meal.