[lit-ideas] Sunday Twofer

  • From: David Ritchie <profdritchie@xxxxxxxxx>
  • To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
  • Date: Sun, 11 Aug 2013 12:21:08 -0700

The subject today is economics, particularly the economics of distribution.  
Who except the odd medieval historian knew that monks were good at marketing?  
For example, whenever we, a party of university students doing time abroad, 
headed north out of Grenoble, we'd try to plan a route that took us home past 
the Chartreuse monastery.  None of us had much relationship with God;  booze 
was another matter.  What we wanted was a free nip in the tasting room.  When 
you have no money, free is really something.  No one much liked the stuff, but 
free was free.  Here's the irony: I developed a taste for it and now pay good 
money for a bottle.  Score one to medieval herb gatherers, grasping their way 
forward in the modern world.

You see classic free market consumption when you give chickens new food.  It's 
not exactly nature red in tooth and claw, the competition of the carnivore, but 
it's not polite either.  I'm reminded of how we played soccer when first we 
were introduced to the game.  The teacher chucked the ball into the middle of a 
clot of small boys and stepped back, inviting us to have at it.  Wee bundles of 
energy, we ran all over the field, each trying to get our kick in; some of us 
made contact with the ball, others with a shin.  Like that teacher, this 
morning I launched old toast and stepped back.  One chicken grabbed the slice 
from the sky and tried to do a Gerald Ford, running and biting at the same 
time.  He had better luck than the president; chickens are quick, and agile.  
But as in rugby, the prize eventually fell and another chicken scooped it up.  
Coming alongside like a jet tanker full of fuel, a third synchronized speed and 
took a fast food peck.  A fourth then crashed into both.  A fifth stepped on 
the downed bread and, colonizer on a very small island, crowed.  Others 
clustered round, pecking.  Young and strong, none faltered.  They gobbled the 
island up.

David Ritchie,
Portland, 
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