Why Free Market Capitalism FailsIn this essay, I expose the flaws in the two mechanisms that are supposed to power the free market: Adam Smith's invisible hand and trickle down economics. The notion of the invisible hand holds that in a free marketplace, the buyer's self-interest will tend to drive the price down, while the seller's self-interest will tend to drive the price up, so that both parties' self-interest will naturally cause the price to settle on an amount that both find reasonable. Trickle-down economics maintains that the rich are the ones who start and expand businesses and hire employees, so the laws should favor them increasing their wealth as much as possible so they can hire more people, thus growing the economy.Linked to
These concepts look good on paper, but the best way to evaluate any idea is to see how it works in practice. Let's start by analyzing nationa
Nightmare at SnoresvilleWhen I got my reservations for a 24 hour train journey in the first class air conditioned compartment of the Amritsar Mail (a long route train) I had rose tinted dreams and visions of an elite compartment, attendants in waiting, hot meals delivered in time wrapped in silver foil and a peaceful slumbering journey cradled in the lap of bliss, herself.Linked to
Reality however has an evil sense of humour.
The journey had started off well enough with another amiable gentleman who shared the four berth compartment with me.
After a light snack of samosas and tea, I read my RD magazine and chatted a little with my fellow passenger. Dinner came at 9.20 pm after which I tucked myself in and let the gentle rocking of the train lull me to sleep.
Disturbance came in the form of two innocent looking men who boarded the train and invaded the peaceful haven at 10.30 pm. Their croaks and grunts of chitter chatter had already awakened me and although unamused, I had to wait patiently for them to settle down and
Fate's Practical JokeFate has a sense of humor. It doesn't normally target me for its practical jokes; after all, I'm only a regular girl who grew up in a small town. But my senior year of high school fate went out of its way to torment me and the rest of the members of the high school band.
I went to Melba High School; it was a tiny little school in the middle of Hicksville, Idaho. That wasn't the real name for the town, actually, it was Melba, just like the school; Hicksville is just a better fit. The town, with a stunning population of 500, was actually smaller than the school. It was so small in fact that a pen-pal once sent me a letter addressed to Shannon Johnston, Melba, ID and it arrived with no trouble whatsoever. Technically, once you got more than four miles outside of the miniscule two-block assortment of the post office, school, two bars, five churches, and the American Legion, you were no longer in Melba, but out in the middle of vast farmland that seemed to lay outside the jurisdict
Losing TractionSnow clung to black eyelashesLinked to & &
as frozen fingers
grasped at fur collars,
looking for more air to breathe with
under such heavy,
The last time I kissed you
felt like a promise
neither of us meant to keep,
but when I stepped into the street
and faced that sliding car,
a caged beast,
I almost wished
I'd run after you.