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Krugman’s Hell

You might be thinking he sends a thrill up my leg, like Glenn Beck does for Chris Matthews, but no, you will note it’s been a while since I posted on him. He is important since he is one of the most seemingly intelligent posters for the premier leftist apologist in our nation.

As I look at him in my mind, and imagine him reading what I wrote (exceptionally unlikely, I know, but it’s an interesting thought exercise), I see making mental notes, pulling out a couple of well-worn tomes–the General Theory being the first–thumbing through them, raising his nose a bit as he checks off the details: no, no, and NO. Closing the last one, he realizes that once again he is right. He has a vaguely preppy and certainly arrogant vibe to him.

Anyway, I readily grant to the universe considerable imagination. I visualized what Krugman’s hell would look like. As I see it, he enters a room lit everywhere in red–not hot or cold or unpleasant–and there is a fire in the hearth, putting out no heat. There is a very ugly old lady sitting there, knitting, who says to him: tell me about economics. And he spends the next 1,000 years talking, while she knits. She is secretly, of course, a demon.

And as the years go by, he never tires. He never flags. He has that much of what he thinks is knowledge to pass along.

Yet, is this LIFE? This is a world insulated from beauty, love and laughter.

Further rantings. I have decided to sin tonight and get a pizza.