Mitchell’s laws: Reduced money growth never stimulates economic growth. To survive long term, a monetarily non-sovereign government must have a positive balance of payments. Austerity = poverty and leads to civil disorder. Those, who do not understand the differences between Monetary Sovereignty and monetary non-sovereignty, do not understand economics.
WARNING: This has little or nothing to do with economics. You know how “all work and no play” goes. So in perhaps a vain attempt to avoid being a dull boy or dull economist, I do both (work and play, that is). My play: Over the years, I’ve written short stories, and for those who may be interested, I’ve posted the first page of one story here, along with a link to the rest of the story and a few others.

Sometimes, a guy just needs a break.



by Rodger Malcolm Mitchell

This version reproduced January 10, 2012; Copyright 1996, 1998, 2001, 2007 Rodger Malcolm Mitchell. All rights reserved. No part of this collection of short stories may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior written consent of Rodger Malcolm Mitchell.

Here is how we have come.

That first spring day, Shannon danced along the cliff path, gripping her older brother’s hand, as he kept her safely from the sheer edge. She was five, and Sean ten, and she loved him dear.

He oft lent her his toys and his guidance. He instructed her in the ways of children and gave her the knowledge he had gathered. She was young. All she had to give him was her love. It was enough.

The sunshine allowed Shannon to forget the evil clouds hanging above the far Northern hills. And the thunder from the North, she could forget that too, though she knew it was not thunder. It was distant cannon. And not always distant, too.
None on our green isle remembered when the eternal war began or why. Shannon heard it concerned religion, whatever that was, or with secret, awful things that had been done by “them of the North.” Whoever they were. She had not yet learned The Anger.

Generations had suffered the fighting. Every family had produced victims. Every victim demanded revenge. Every revenge demanded revenge. The war excused everything and satisfied nothing.

Neither North nor South owned the vigor to win or the frailty to lose — two weary brawlers clawing and gouging, with even the hope of victory and the fear of defeat disappeared.

Some Southerns planted bombs. These men and women were called “heroes.” Their lives were difficult. The most charmed were shot on their first night sowing. The less fortunate, were caught and tortured. The least-favored escaped and were obligated to repeat. Endlessly.

A car erupted in enemy North. Two dead, ten maimed. The Southerns laughed and toasted. Two dead, ten maimed.

It was not enough. Two Northern dead did not restore a raped Southern wife. Ten maimed did not return a torn child. The enemy remained. The laughter spoiled and rotted.

The North boasted its own heroes. A tavern exploded in our South. Six dead, twelve maimed. The North laughed and toasted. We remained. Nothing changed.

Bombers risked death knowing their work was pointless, knowing that everything, even laughter, would die. They forgot or could not bear to ask, “What is the meaning of my life when my work, and even my death, has no meaning?”

Here the cliff bent back to form a small bay, and the path followed around the horseshoe bend, so Shannon could see across the bay. There on the far side something moved, three tiny figures — men, it seemed — dressed in black and carrying a wooden box.

“We shall go home now,” Sean said, for he had seen them, too.

One of the men looked up, saw Sean and pointed at him, then began to run around the bend toward him. Sean turned and ran, holding tight to Shannon’s hand. He himself was fast as a bird, and might have escaped, but Shannon was young.

The men gained ground in pounding, angry strides. Sean would not release Shannon’s hand, even to save himself.

The men closed on the children.

[To read the rest of this story and to see several others, go to:]

Rodger Malcolm Mitchell

No nation can tax itself into prosperity, nor grow without money growth. Monetary Sovereignty: Cutting federal deficits to grow the economy is like applying leeches to cure anemia. Two key equations in economics:
Federal Deficits – Net Imports = Net Private Savings
Gross Domestic Product = Federal Spending + Private Investment and Consumption + Net exports