Once again

Once again it is manifest that the economic system’s operations must be analysed both historically, as a phase and not the end of history, and realistically, i.e. not in terms of an ideal market equilibrium, but of a built-in mechanism that generates potentially system-changing periodic crises. The present one may be one of these. Once again it is evident that even between major crises, ‘the market’ has no answer to the major problem confronting the twenty-first century: that unlimited and increasingly high-tech economic growth in the pursuit of unsustainable profit produces global wealth, but at the cost of an increasingly dispensable factor of production, human labour, and, one might add, of the globe’s natural resources. Economic and political liberalism, singly or in combination, cannot provide the solution to the problems of the twenty-first century. Once again the time has come to take Marx seriously.

(Eric Hobsbawm, How to Change the World, Little, Brown Books 2011, pp. 418-19. )


Una bella canzone

…come regalo natalizio per tutti coloro che si ostinano a capitare da queste parti ogni tanto. Loro si chiamano Jack Adaptor, alias Christopher Cordoba (music & words) e Paul Frederick (words & music), sono miei buoni amici e uno dei best kept secrets della capitale. Il pezzo si chiama “Burmah Gold”, dal loro prossimo album ancora inedito; accludo il testo evocativo di Paul, che ha a che vedere con la bulimia energetica dei nostri tempi e le catastrofi ad essa connesse.

Burmah Gold

thick fat tyres to run you down
and squash you like a beetle
a metal grille like teeth to bite
and grind you down to bonedust
little knowing
that the weaknesses are showing
now that the pipes are laid

the Burmah gold is flowing
is there gold in them there hills
remains the burning question
in vain prospectors chance their luck
encamped in tents of skin of stag and buck
they don’t notice that it’s snowing
now that the pipes are laid
the Burmah gold is flowing

is there enough to go around
can nature make a profit
the spills of black gold on the ground
are poison pools and no one wants to stop it
little knowing
with the folds of fortune growing
now that the pipes are laid
the Burmah gold is flowing
the Burmah gold is flowing 


No, non è possibile ascoltare rock and roll con la neve

Semplicemente, sono come l’olio e l’acqua: restano ciascuno sulle sue. Meglio un po’ di sano sturm und drang romantico, magari dalla tastiera del pirotecnico Volodya, che di romanticismo se ne intendeva.

PS Non per i deboli di cuore.