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In Praise of Chaos

Speech Presented to Eris Society

Introduction: The Intrusion of Eris

Chaos has a bad name in some parts. It was chaos that brought us the Trojan War (Robert Graves, The Greek Myths, chapter 159). Eris, goddess of chaos, upset at not being invited to the wedding of Peleus and Thetis, showed up anyway and rolled a golden apple marked “kalliste” (“for the prettiest one”) among the guests. Each of the goddesses Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite claimed the golden apple as her own. Zeus, no fool, appointed Paris, son of Priam, king of Troy, judge of the beauty contest. Hermes brought the goddesses to the mountain Ida, where Paris first tried to divide the apple among the goddesses, then made them swear they wouldn’t hold the decision against them. Hermes asked Paris if he needed the goddesses to undress to make his judgment, and he replied, Of course. Athena insisted Aphrodite remove her magic girdle, the sexy underwear that made everyone fall in love with her, and Aphrodite retorted Athena would have to remove her battle helmet, since she would look hideous without it.

As Paris examined the goddesses individually, Hera promised to make Paris the lord of Asia and the richest man alive, if she got the apple. Paris said he couldn’t be bribed. Athena promised to make Paris victorious in all his battles, and the wisest man alive. Paris said there was peace in these parts. Aphrodite stood so close to Paris he blushed, and not only urged him not to miss a detail of her lovely body, but said also that he was the handsomest man she had seen lately, and he deserved a woman as beautiful as she was. Had he heard about Helen, the wife of the king of Sparta? The goddess promised Paris she would make Helen fall in love with him. Naturally Paris gave the apple to Aphrodite, and Hera and Athena went off fuming to plot the destruction of Troy. That is, Aphrodite got the apple, and Paris got screwed.

While the Greeks had a specific goddess dedicated to Chaos, early religions gave chaos an even more fundamental role. In the Babylonian New Year festival, Marduk separated Tiamat, the dragon of chaos, from the forces of law and order. This primal division is seen in all early religions. Yearly homage was paid to the threat of chaos’s return. Traditional New Year festivals returned symbolically to primordial chaos through a deliberate disruption of civilized life. One shut down the temples, extinguished fires, had orgies and otherwise broke social norms. The dead mingled with the living; Afterward you purified yourself, reenacted the creation myth whereby the dragon of chaos was overthrown, and went back to normal. Everyone had fun, but afterward order was restored, and the implication was it was a good thing we had civilization, because otherwise people would always be putting out the fires and having orgies.

Around us in the world today we see the age-old battle between order and chaos. In the international sphere, the old order of communism has collapsed. In its place is a chaotic matrix of competing, breakaway states, wanting not only political freedom and at least a semi-market economy, but also their own money supplies and nuclear weapons, and in some cases a society with a single race, religion, or culture. Is this alarming or reassuring? We also have proclamations of a New World Order, on one hand, accompanied by the outbreak of sporadic wars and US bombing raids in Africa, Europe, and Asia, on the other.

In the domestic sphere we have grass roots political movements, such as the populist followers of H. Ross Perot challenging the old order imposed by the single-party Democratic- Republican monolith. We have a President who is making a mockery out of the office, and a Vice President who tells us we should not listen to any dissenting opinions with respect to global warming. Is this reassuring or alarming?

In the corporate-statist world of Japan we see the current demolition of the mythic pillars of Japanese society: the myth of high-growth, the myth of endless trust between the US and Japan, the myth of full employment, the myth that land and stock prices will always rise, and the myth that the Liberal Democratic Party will always remain in power. Is the shattering of these myths reassuring or alarming?

In fact, wherever we look, central command is losing control. Even in the sphere of the human mind we have increasing attention paid to cases of multiple personality. The most recent theories see human identity and the human ego as a network of cooperative subsystems, rather than a single entity. (Examples of viewpoint are found in Robert Ornstein, Multimind, and Michael Gazzanaga, The Social Brain.) If, as Carl Jung claimed, “our true religion is a monotheism of consciousness, a possession by it, coupled with a fanatical denial of the existence of fragmentary autonomous systems,” then it can be said that psychological polytheism is on the rise. Or, as some would say, mental chaos. Is this reassuring or alarming?

Myth of Causality Denies Role of Eris

The average person, educated or not, is not comfortable with chaos. Faced with chaos, people begin talking about the fall of Rome, the end of time. Faced with chaos people begin to deny its existence, and present the alternative explanation that what appears as chaos is a hidden agenda of historical or prophetic forces that lie behind the apparent disorder. They begin talking about the “laws of history” or proclaiming that “God has a hidden plan”. The creation, Genesis, was preceded by chaos (tohu-va- bohu), and the New World Order (the millennium), it is claimed, will be preceded by pre-ordained apocalyptic chaos. In this view of things, chaos is just part of a master agenda. Well, is it really the case there is a hidden plan, or does the goddess Eris have a non- hidden non-plan? Will there be a Thousand Year Reign of the Messiah, or the Thousand Year Reich of Adolph Hitler, or are these one and the same?

People are so uncomfortable with chaos, in fact, that Newtonian science as interpreted by Laplace and others saw the underlying reality of the world as deterministic. If you knew the initial conditions you could predict the future far in advance. With a steady hand and the right cue tip, you could run the table in pool. Then came quantum mechanics, with uncertainty and indeterminism, which even Einstein refused to accept, saying “God doesn’t play dice.” Philosophically, Einstein couldn’t believe in a universe with a sense of whimsy. He was afraid of the threatened return of chaos, preferring to believe for every effect there was a cause. A consequence of this was the notion that if you could control the cause, you could control the effect.

The modern proponents of law and order don’t stop with the assertion that for every effect, there is a cause. And they also assert they “know” the cause. We see this attitude reflected by social problem solvers, who proclaimed: “The cause of famine in Ethiopia is lack of food in Ethiopia.” So we had rock crusades to feed the starving Ethiopians and ignored the role of the Ethiopian government. Other asserted: “The case of drug abuse is the presence of drugs,” so they enacted a war on certain drugs which drove up their price, drove up the profit margins available to those who dealt in prohibited drugs, and created a criminal subclass who benefited from the prohibition. Psychologists assert: “The reason this person is this way is because such-and-such happened in childhood, with parents, or siblings, or whatever.” So any evidence of abuse, trauma, or childhood molestation–which over time should assume a trivial role in one’s life–are given infinite power by the financial needs of the psychotherapy business.

You may respond: “Well, but these were just misidentified causes; there really is a cause.” Maybe so, and maybe not. Whatever story you tell yourself, you can’t escape the fact that to you personally “the future is a blinding mirage” (Stephen Vizinczey, The Rules of Chaos). You can’t see the future precisely because you don’t really know what’s causing it. The myth of causality denies the role of Eris. Science eventually had to acknowledge the demon of serendipity, but not everyone is happy with that fact. The political world, in the cause-and-effect marketing and sales profession, has a vested interest in denying its existence.

Approaches to Chaos

In philosophy or religion there are three principal schools of thought (in a classification I’ll use here). Each school is distinguished by its basic philosophical outlook on life. The First School sees the universe as indifferent to humanity’s joys or sufferings, and accepts chaos as a principle of restoring balance. The Second School sees humanity as burdened down with suffering, guilt, desire, and sin, and equates chaos with punishment or broken law. The Third School considers chaos an integral part of creativity, freedom, and growth.

I. First School Approach: Attempts to Impose Order Lead to Greater Disorder

Too much law and order brings its opposite. Attempts to create World Government will lead to total anarchy. What are some possible examples?

  • The Branch Davidians at Waco. David Koresh’s principal problem was, according to one FBI spokesman, that he was “thumbing his nose at the law”. So, to preserve order, the forces of law and order brought chaos and destruction, and destroyed everything and everyone. To prevent the misuse of firearms by cult members, firearms were marshaled to randomly kill them. To prevent alleged child abuse, the forces of law and order burned the children to death.
  • Handing out free food in “refugee” camps in Somalia leads to greater number of starving refugees, because the existence of free food attracts a greater number of nomads to the camps, who then become dependent on free food, and starve when they are not fed.
  • States in the US. are concerned about wealth distribution. But, to finance themselves, more and more states have turned to the lottery. These states thereby create inequality of wealth distribution by giving away to a few, vast sums of cash extracted from the many.

The precepts of the first school find expression in a number of Oriental philosophies. In the view of this school, what happens in the universe is a fact, and does not merit the labels of “good” or “bad”, or human reactions of sympathy or hatred. Effort to control or alter the course of macro events (as opposed to events in ones personal life) is wasted. One should cultivate detachment and contemplation, and learn elasticity, learn to go with the universal flow of events. This flow tends toward a balance. This view finds expression in the Tao Teh King:

The more prohibitions you have,
the less virtuous people will be
The more weapons you have,
the less secure people will be.
The more subsidies you have,
the less self-reliant people will be.

Therefore the Master says:
I let go of the law,
and people become honest.
I let go of economics,
and people become prosperous.
I let go of religion,
and people become serene.
I let go of all desire for the common good,
and the good becomes common as grass.
(Chapter 57, Stephen Mitchell translation.)

You don’t fight chaos any more than you fight evil. “Give evil nothing to oppose, and it will disappear by itself” (Tao Teh King, Chapter 60). Or as Jack Kerouac said in Dr. Sax: “The universe disposes of its own evil.” Again the reason is a principal of balance: You are controlled by what you love and what you hate. But hate is the stronger emotion. Those who fight evil necessarily take on the characteristics of the enemy and become evil themselves. Organized sin and organized sin-fighting are two sides of the same corporate coin.

II. Second School Approach: Chaos is a Result of Breaking Laws

In the broadest sense, this approach a) asserts society is defective, and then b) tells us the reason it’s bad is because we’ve done wrong by our lawless actions. This is the view often presented by the front page of any major newspaper. It’s a fundamental belief in Western civilization.

In early Judaism and fundamentalist Christianity, evil is everywhere and it must be resisted. There is no joy or pleasure without its hidden bad side. God is usually angry and has to be propitiated by sacrifice and blood. The days of Noah ended in a flood. Sodom and Gomorra got atomized. Now, today, it’s the End Time and the wickedness of the earth will be smitten with the sword of Jesus or some other Messiah whose return is imminent.

In this context, chaos is punishment from heaven. Or chaos is a natural degenerate tendency which must be alertly resisted. In the Old Testament Book of Judges, a work of propaganda for the monarchy, it is stated more than once: “In those days there was no king in Israel: every man did that which was right in his own eyes” (Judg. 17:6; 21:25). Doing what appeals to you was not considered a good idea, because, as Jeremiah reminds us “The heart [of man] is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked” (Jer. 17:9).

And in the New Testament, the rabbinical lawyer Paul says “by the law is the knowledge of sin” (Rom. 3:20), and elsewhere is written, “Whososever committeth sin transgresseth also the law: for sin is the transgression of the law.” (1 John 3:4). And, naturally, “the wages of sin is death” (Rom. 6:23).

New age views of karma are similar. If you are bad, as somehow defined, you built up bad karma (New Age view), or else God later burns you with fire (fundamentalist Christian view). For good deeds, you get good karma or treasures in heaven. It’s basically an accountant’s view of the world. Someone’s keeping a balance sheet of all your actions, and toting up debits or credits. Of course, some religions allow you to wipe the slate clean in one fell swoop, say by baptism, or an act of contrition, which is sort of like declaring bankruptcy and getting relief from all your creditors. But that’s only allowed because there has already been a blood sacrifice in your place. Jesus or Mithra or one of the other Saviors has already paid the price. But even so, old Santa Claus is up there somewhere checking who’s naughty or nice.

What is fundamental about this approach is not the specific solution to sin, or approach to salvation, but the general pessimistic outlook on the ordinary flow of life. The first Noble Truth of Buddha was that “Life is Sorrow”. In the view of Schopenhauer, Life is Evil, and he says “Every great pain, whether physical or spiritual, declares what we deserve; for it could not come to us if we did not deserve it” (The World as Will and Representation). Also in the Second School bin of philosophy can be added Freud, with his Death Wish and the image of the unconscious as a murky swamp of monsters. Psychiatry in some interpretations sees the fearful dragon of chaos, Tiamat, lurking down below the civilized veneer of the human cortex.

The liberal’s preoccupation with social “problems” and the Club of Rome’s obsession with entropy are essentially expressions of the Second School view. Change, the fundamental motion of the universe, is bad. If a business goes broke, it’s never viewed as a source of creativity, freeing up resources and bringing about necessary changes. It’s just more unemployment. The unemployment-inflation tradeoff as seen by Sixties Keynesian macroeconomics is in the Second School spirit. These endemic evils must be propitiated by the watchful Priests of Fiscal Policy and the Federal Reserve, and you can only reduce one by increasing the other. This view refuses to acknowledge that one of the positive roles of the Market is as a job destroyer as well as a job creator.

More generally, the second school has generated whole industries of “problem solvers”— politicians, bureaucrats, demagogues, counselors, and charity workers who have found the way to power, fame, and wealth lies in championing causes and mucking about in other people’s lives. Whatever their motivations, they operate as parasites and vampires who are healthy only when others are sick, whose well-being increases in direct proportion to other people’s misery, and whose method of operation is to give the appearance of working on the problems of others. Of course if the problems they champion were actually solved, they would be out of a job. Hence they are really interested in the process of “solving” problems–not in actual solutions. They create chaos and destruction under the pretense of chaos control and elimination.

III. Third School Approach: Chaos is Necessary for Creativity, Freedom, and Growth

You find this view in a few of the ancient Greek writers, and more recently in Nietzsche. Nietzsche says: “One must still have chaos in one to give birth to a dancing star.” The first fundamental point of view here is: Existence is pure joy. If you don’t see that, your perception is wrong. And we are not talking about Mary Baker Eddy Christian Science denial of the facts. In this approach you are supposed to learn to alchemically transmute sorrow into joy, chaos into art. You exult in the random give and take of the hard knocks of life. It’s a daily feast. Every phenomenon is an Act of Love. Every experience, however serendipitous, is necessary, is a sacrament, is a means of growth.

“Saying Yes to life even in its strangest and hardest problems, the will to life rejoicing over its own inexhaustibility even in the very sacrifice of its highest types–that is what I called Dionysian, that is what I guessed to be the bridge to the psychology of the tragic poet. Not in order to be liberated from terror and pity, not in order to purge oneself of a dangerous affect by its vehement discharge– Aristotle understood it that way [as do the Freudians who think one deals with ones neuroses through one’s art, a point of view which Nietzsche is here explicitly rejecting]–but in order to be oneself the eternal order of becoming, beyond all terror and pity–that joy which included even joy in destroying.” (Twilight of the Idols).

It is an approach centered in the here and now. You cannot foresee the future, so you must look at the present. But because “nothing is certain, nothing is impossible” (Rules of Chaos). You are free and nobody belongs to you. In the opening paragraphs of Tropic of Cancer, Henry Miller says: “It is now the fall of my second year in Paris. I was sent here for a reason I have not yet been able to fathom. I have no money, no resources, no hopes. I am the happiest man alive.”

Your first responsibility is to take care of yourself, so you won’t be a burden to other people. If you don’t do at least that, how can you be so arrogant as to think you can help others? You make progress by adapting to your own nature. In Rabelais’ Gargantua the Abbey of Theleme had the motto: Fay ce que vouldras, or “Do as you will.” Rabelais (unlike the Book of Judges) treats this in a very positive light. The implication is: Don’t go seeking after some ideal far removed from your own needs. Don’t get involved in some crusade to save the human race–because you falsely think that is the noble thing to do–when what you may really want to do, if you are honest with yourself, is to stay home, grow vegetables, and sell them in a roadside market. (Growing vegetables is, after all, real growth–more so than some New Age conceptions.) You have no obligation under the sun other than to discover your real needs, to fulfill them, and to rejoice in doing so.

In this approach you give other people the right to make their own choices, but you also hold them responsible for the consequences. Most social “problems”, after all, are a function of the choices people make, and are therefore insolvable in principle, except by coercion. One is not under any obligation to make up for the effects of other people’s decisions. If, for example, people (poor or rich, educated or not) have children they can’t care for or feed, one has no responsibility to make up for their negligence or to take on one’s own shoulders responsibility for the consequent suffering. You can, if you wish, if you want to become a martyr. If you are looking to become a martyr, the world will gladly oblige, and then calmly carry on as before, the “problems” unaltered.

One may, of course, choose to help the rest of the world to the extent that one is able, assuming one knows how. But it is a choice, not an obligation. Modern political correctness and prostituted religion have tried to turn all of what used to be considered virtues into social obligations. Not that anyone is expected to really practice what they preach; rather it is intended they feel guilty for not doing so, and once the guilt trip is underway, their behavior can be manipulated for political purposes.

What would, after all, be left for social workers to do if all social problems were solved? One would still need challenges, so presumably people would devote themselves to creative and artistic tasks. One would still need chaos. One would still need Eris rolling golden apples.

Conclusion

In the revelation given to Greg Hill and Kerry Thornley, authors of Principia Discordia, or How I Found Goddess and What I Did to Her When I Found Her, the goddess Eris (Roman Discordia) says: “I am chaos. I am the substance from which your artists and scientists build rhythms. I am the spirit with which your children and clowns laugh in happy anarchy. I am chaos. I am alive, and I tell you that you are free.”

Today, in Aspen, Eris says: I am chaos. I am alive, and I tell you that you are free.

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Karma Accountant

Karma Accountant
a story
by J. Orlin Grabbe

The karma accountant was sitting at a table having a cappuccino when I arrived at the cafe. We often brooded together about the spiritual equilibrium of the universe.

“Café au lait.” He grimaced. The milk hadn’t steamed right.

“Do you note that down?” I asked. “Does someone get bad marks for bad coffee?”

He reflected. “Depends on the intent. Not for a pure mechanical failure, no. But suppose the waiter flubbed it because he was hostile to a customer. Or was just being negligent in general. Those are different matters.”

The concept of karma seemed simple enough to me. Bad deeds built up karma (bad stuff) and good deeds cancelled it out. Once you got rid of all your karma you got to stop reincarnating and go to heaven or enter nirvana or something nice like that.

“What have you got so far?” I asked.

“See that couple sitting over there. The girl facing us is having the summer salad.”

I looked at the girl with the pale face and dark eyes that would animate for a fraction of a second before settling back into comfortable moroseness.

“They’re both having problems at the moment, but the one with his back to us is a Yugoslavian immigrant who is working in his brother’s cloth business. He’s about 17 percent happier and more positive than the girl, who is flunking out of her third semester at NYU. So he’s chalking up a lot of credit transferring his energy and enthusiasm to her.”

“How do you measure that exactly?” He had tried to explain the method before–very patiently actually–but I was still somewhat confused.

He sighed. “Well, unfortunately, it’s up in the air. There’s been a great debate and organizational upheaval and we’re moving to a new system. It’ll be centuries, maybe millennia before we get the bugs out.

“We used to used the KAU,” he continued, “or Karma Unit of Account. It was based on a simple weighted average of the karmas of all souls, physically incarnated or not. So, in the case of that couple, I would take the ratio of the two karmas–that’s his karma of KAU 4,790,241 divided by her karma of KAU 2,566,337,644,935–and credit him with 17 percent of that amount.”

“Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. You mean he gets 17 percent of 4 million over 2 trillion, something like that.”

“Yes.”

“Which doesn’t reduce his karma by very much.”

“Well. I don’t know why you think that. If he reduced it by that equivalent amount every day, in only 8,634 years he would be a soul with no karma.”

I guess you don’t rush things in this business, I thought. “But if the girl only had a karma of, say, 2 thousand, the amount of karma reduction would be a billion times as much.”

“True. But you’re overlooking the essential reality. It’s extremely hard for a person of high karma to make a positive energy transfer to a person of low karma. So the equation recognizes the basic fact that the ease of transfer from A (him, in this case) to B (her) is directly proportional to the karma of B, and hence credit to A is given inversely to B’s karma to adjust for the lower effort involved.”

“So what you are saying is if I had a karma of KAU 10 and another person had a karma of KAU 1, I could technically get rid of all my karma in less than six days–that is, 17 percent per day–but the probability of doing so would be small because I would find it extremely difficult to make a positive energy transfer to a person with KAU 1.”

“No. No. No.”

“Why no? Why not?”

“First, your karma is some exponential order of magnitude larger than KAU 10.”

“I’m speaking hypothetically.”

“Second, you would be doing good to work on any margin higher than 6 percent–that’s the maximum reduction the average person is able to manage. Third, your math is wrong. If each day you reduced your karma by 17 percent of the amount remaining, at the end of six days the amount of karma left would be 10 x (1-.17)^6 = 3.269.”

What?

“That sounds like a rigged game. You get never get to zero that way.”

“Not if the percentage reduction is constant. You have to increase the percentage reduction each day in order to maintain the same absolute level of negation.”

He paused to jot down notes. I looked around, but didn’t see what he saw. Just the cafe’s impresario smoking behind the bar, and a girl with short dark hair conversing with the chef. I motioned to the waiter and ordered a hamburger.

“So what’s the new system all about?” I asked when he was finished.

He signed again, as though just the effort of thought pained him.

“It all started with a debate over the intertemporal karma cancellation problem. You know about that?”

I didn’t.

“I suppose not. Maybe an example will help. Hmmm. Suppose an Arkansas boy in 1933 in the depth of the Depression robs $10 from his grandmother’s cookie jar and spends it before being found out. Later he gets run over by a bus. He reincarnates as a girl in a middle- class New Jersey family, goes to the University of Pennsylvania, and gets a job on Wall Street. He– she–gets a raise one day and in her euphoria gives $10 to a street person. So, and this is the classic question, does the $10 donation cancel out the $10 theft, karmically speaking?”

The hamburger arrived and I cut into it, but there was still some pink in the middle, so I sent it back to be cooked until it was done.

“So what’s the answer, do they cancel out,” I asked once the waiter had left.

“That’s the rub. Think of the issues. The dollar in 1933 buys about ten times more goods than in 1985, so the magnitude of the two incidents are different in real terms. Next we have to adjust for the environment. What does it mean in 1933 for a young boy to steal $10 from his grandmother, as opposed to a young professional woman to give $10 to a street person in 1985? For example, there was one school of thought on the Karma Policy Committee that no one should be credited karma cancellation for acts in eras where there is social pressure to perform them out of political correctness. Can trendiness be equated with good karma? Then there is the issue of individual motivation. What if the boy stole the $10 to pay a vet to save his dog, an animal he loved more than anything in the world? On the other hand, one subset of the Karma Policy Committee considered the whole issue of individual motivation irrelevant, sort of on “the road to hell is paved with good intentions” principle. Suppose the street person used the girl’s $10 to get drunk, wandered out into traffic, and caused a truck to veer into a crowded sidewalk filled with women and children.”

“I see what you mean.” The sheer magnitude of the problem was making me depressed. I consoled myself with an extra dollop of catsup.

“Okay. So one day the Council of All Souls petitions the Karma Policy Committee. The solution is simple, they argued. We create a market where those desirous of exchanging 1933 Arkansas bad karma for 1985 Wall Street good karma (that is, karma cancellation) can do so at an exchange rate that will be determined minute by minute in the intertemporal market place. Good karma buyers will get the lowest available price, while bad karma sellers will get the highest price.”

“And that solved your karma valuation problem?”

“In some respects. Now we have markets for everything. Every karma type is priced relative to every other. Of course you need a numeraire. We arbitrarily took 1/10,000,000,000 of the total karma from the earliest building period at Catalhüyük in Asia Minor as equal to 1.0, and the magnitude of every other price is determined by reference to that. For example, yesterday’s closing exchange rate against 5th century karma from Attila the Hun’s invasion of Gaul was 436,784 units of the latter to 1 unit of the former, because of all the bad karma being dumped on the market from the Attila period.”

“Does it pay well? Your job, I mean. All this paperwork.”

He cocked his head. “We get 6 percent karma reduction per century.”

“Doesn’t seem like much, does it?”

“But it’s safe. There’s no danger of our karma getting any bigger while we’re doing this. It’s like buying a bond. The interest may not seem much, but at least you can always count on it being greater than zero. Accountants are like that, you know. We like to take the safe course.”

“But you can’t rid of all your karma that way,” I said. “Your 6 percent is like the 17 percent we talked about earlier. Taking away 6 percent of the remainder every year will never remove it all.”

“No,” he said sadly. “There will always be a residual, and there’s nothing to do about it except to reincarnate and earn the final reduction the old-fashioned way.”

“And to do that you’re taking the risk it might get bigger.”

“Yes, although now that we have gone to the new system, there are karma futures markets, where you can hedge your risk by going long or short karma of a particular type. Suppose you’re going to undertake a particularly risky incarnation, say in a real soul-selling place like Hollywood. Well, you go short a certain number of 1990s Hollywood karma futures. That way if you build up more bad karma than you anticipated, you just deliver the excess into the expiring futures contracts. Of course, like any hedge, it works both ways. If you acquire less bad karma than anticipated, you’ll have to buy back some of the contracts, and so end up with more karma than you would have without the hedge. But at least you know what your exposure is before you incarnate.”

What a bunch of wimpy souls, I thought. “What kind of spiritual coward would do something like that? What’s the point if you don’t take risks?”

He gazed quietly at me for a moment, and then laughed. He laughed and laughed. I felt embarrassed and looked around the room. The couple had stopped eating and turned to stare. Even the chef had taken note of us.

I was getting angry now. “What’s so funny?” I demanded to know.

“You. You . . .,” he paused to restrain his filthy mirth. “You should talk. You shorted the first 50 contracts.”

He was still laughing when I stalked out of the cafe and slammed the door. You pay the check, I thought. Jerk. I know this place. Go ahead, pull out your Universal Credit Card here. Try and explain that to them. They’ll bust your chops for sure.

I walked on down the street.

As for me, well, I’m hedged, aren’t I?

from Liberty, August 1993

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The Hat

The Hat
a story
by J. Orlin Grabbe

I’m just going the same way. I’m not following you. Hi, I’m Kim. I saw you looking at me, back there, like I was weird or something. I was just dancing beside the car. Yeah, I thought you were kind of cute, too. You want to try on my hat? That’s my best hat, don’t lose it. You want to get some beers, since we’re going the same way? Great. Wherever. Or we could just get a six-pack and go to my place. Or to your place. We can just be friends, okay? Do you like marijuana? I could get some great Thai weed over on Fourth Street. It’s great stuff. Chocolate. We can get an ounce or a quarter. It’s in-house, we don’t have to buy it in the street. You’re not a cop, right? Tell you what, we could take a cab. We could get a quarter or a half. We split the grass and the six pack and you pay for the cab, okay? Great. You’re sure you’re not a cop? We have a good thing going here. I just have to call first. Hello? I’m calling about the laundry, the four shirts. I need one of the shirts for a party I’m going to. I will come by in a few minutes. Can you have it ready for me? Okay, great. We’re all set. There’s a cab. Hi, we want to go to Fourth Street. We have to pick up a painting. You wait. I’ll just run in and get it, and then we’ll go to Thirteenth. That’s twenty-five each for the quarter. What do I have? Let me see, I have, oh, just fifteen dollars. You don’t mind if I owe you five do you? So that’ll be thirty for your part and I’ll owe you the five. I’ll pay you back. There. Stop right here. Why don’t we get a half? We might as well go for it. Give me an extra twenty and he’ll let me owe him twenty because he knows me. Okay? Great. I would never do that, we have a great thing going. And you have my best hat. Just wait right here, I’ll just be a second. Hi, I’m back. Listen, there’s a problem. Just pay for the cab and get out. Yeah. It’s just that he won’t let me owe him the twenty, I already owe him some money. We need another twenty for the half. Okay. Yeah, I’m really sorry about this. I’ll pay you back, really. Okay. Stay in the cab, but don’t leave, okay? Just don’t leave. Take care of my hat, I’ll be right back.

from Art Times, November 1992

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The Optimal Number of Criminals

The Optimal Number of Criminals
by J. Orlin Grabbe

Johnny Latham was the sheriff of Mad Dog, Texas. Johnny had a problem. The boys over at the mayor’s office provided him with an allowance according to the number of bona fide criminals he arrested. With this allowance he paid his expenses and kept whatever was left as salary. The way the mayor saw it, if there weren’t any criminals, there was no sense in wasting money on law enforcement.

Johnny was sitting on the courthouse steps sunning himself. He rubbed the stubble on his chin, pushed back his hat, and reflected. If you just leave it be, the criminal element breeds like flies. Pretty soon there would be thieves, vagabonds, no-goods, and hell-raisers all over Mad Dog. Why then he could just mosey down the street and pluck ’em off the corners for a fast buck, just like taking whiskey from a Baptist.

No. The mayor wouldn’t like it. Johnny knew that a crime wave would induce the mayor to cut back on the bounty per criminal. First because the budget couldn’t take it, and second because he would become increasingly reluctant to shell out good money to a no-good sheriff.

Then there was the matter of deputies. Hiring deputies was one way to keep the jails full. But more deputies meant more ways to split the profits. Also, as crime dried up, criminals would be more costly to apprehend.

In the course of Johnny’s meditations a wandering minstrel-economist, possessed of a guitar and a merry countenance, came up the street.

“Hey there, feller, what brings you to Mad Dog?” Johnny demanded.

“I’m a wandering minstrel-economist,” said the wandering minstrel-economist.

Whereupon Johnny explained his difficult problem.

“I’ll solve your problem for you,” the minstrel-economist said, “but first I’ll sing you a little song.”

“Never mind,” said Johnny.

“What you’ve got is a capital resource management problem,” the minstrel-economist said. He began to scribble with a pencil on the concrete steps. Johnny got m(k) dollars per criminal. This amount increased with the number of criminals, k, but at a decreasing rate, because of the mayor’s reaction to the growth of crime. From m(k) he had to subtract costs per criminal, c(k). Costs increased as the number of criminals dropped, because it became increasingly hard to find and catch them. The number of criminals caught was a function, f(L), of the number of lawmen, L. Thus Johnny would maximize the discounted present value of the future profits per lawman:

Objective Functional

Johnny looked at the equation in admiration.

“Now, for the next part, think of a fishery,” the minstrel-economist said.

“A fishery?”

“Sure. Just think of Mad Dog as a holding tank for potential criminals.”

“Now in a fishery,” the minstrel-economist continued, “if the number of fish gets too large for the environment, the fish eat all the food and die out. On the other hand, if the number gets too small, well, your cost of catching them goes up. So we have to figure out just the right fishing rate to keep things as lucrative as possible.”

Ain’t that the truth, Johnny thought to himself. He had always figgered that organized crime and organized crime-fighting were two parts of the same dynamic feedback process, but he had never seen it spelled out quite so clearly before.

Since crime breeds crime, the growth of criminals, g(k), was a function of the number of criminals. They figured that the environmental carrying-capacity for criminals in Mad Dog was N, since that was the population. As the number of criminals k approached N, the growth in crime would slow, since no-goods would squabble among themselves and thieves would find fewer things to rip-off. So Johnny’s state equation looked like this:

State Equation

The minstrel-economist scribbled some more, eventually writing down optimal control and response equations.(*)

“Note,” the minstrel-economist said, “that in equilibrium the discount rate r equals the marginal productivity of criminals, adjusted by a second term. The second term represents the marginal change in profit from an additional criminal, expressed as a percentage of the current-value shadow price of criminals.”

“You’ve got me there,” Johnny said.

The minstrel-economist then proceeded to integrate the equations to obtain the optimal number of lawmen and the optimal number of criminals as a function of time, which, Johnny explained, only flowed six days a week in Mad Dog, because everyone liked to take Sundays off.

“I’ll be darned,” Johnny said with a sense of satisfaction. He was still looking at the figures when the wandering minstrel-economist disappeared into the sunset. The latter was no small feat, as it was only two o’clock in the afternoon.

Back in the office Johnny unlocked the cash box, took out a roll of bills, and stuffed them in his pocket. He went out and climbed into his Ranchero pickup. He headed down Main Street toward the local cafe.

He was ready to hire hisself some deputies.

This story first appeared in Liberty in May 1992.

(*) Maximizing the Hamiltonian and solving for dL/dt, we obtain

dL/dt = [A+B+C+D]/E, where

A = -(1/L)[m'(k)-c'(k)] f(L)

B = -[1/L-f(L)/(f ‘(L)*L2)] [m(k)-c(k)] [g'(k)(1-k/N)-g(k)/N]

C = r [1/L-f(L)/(f ‘(L)*L2)] [m(k)-c(k)]

D = (dk/dt) [1/L-f(L)/(f ‘(L)*L2)] [m'(k)-c'(k)]

E = [m(k)-c(k)]{ [f(L)/(f ‘(L)L2] [f ”(L)L2+2 L f ‘(L)] – 2/L2}.

In equilibrium, with dL/dt = dk/dt = 0, we have for the discount rate r,

r = [g'(k)(1-k/N)-g(k)/N] + F/G, where

F = (1/L) [m'(k)-c'(k)] f(L)

G = [1/L-f(L)/(f ‘(L)*L2)] [m(k)-c(k)] .

Here the expression for G is the current-value shadow price of criminals.

For the mathematics involved, see the following works:

Richard Bellman, Adaptive Control Proccesses, Princeton University Press, 1961.

Arthur E. Bryson, Jr., & Yu-Chi Ho, Applied Optimal Control, Hemisphere Publishing Company, Washington D.C., 1975.

Colin W. Clark, Mathematical Bioeconomics: The Optimal Management of Renewable Resources, John Wiley & Sons, New York, 1976.


J. Orlin Grabbe’s web page is located at https://orlingrabbe.com/.

from The Laissez Faire City Times, Vol 5, No 36, September 3, 2001

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Connections

Connections
a story
by J. Orlin Grabbe

The data transmission came in late Friday afternoon, time stamped 16:25:03. Two females with possibly unaltered secondary sexual characteristics were seen strolling on Chestnut.

Maybe I should have known something was up when I walked out of the Bureau door and spotted them right away, easy money, just across the street. The breasts were unchanged, all right. I had an instinct for that sort of thing. You had to, to work for the Bureau. Well, there was no hurry. I wasn’t going to spoil the fun by making an on-the- spot arrest. I would follow them, toy with them, enjoy the sights.

That’s what I liked about this job. Every day held the possibility of seeing things most other people just dreamed about. And they paid you well for it. There was something else, too. But I can’t go into that. Major PR issue. Let’s just say Bureau personnel had to have special qualifications, which granted them certain privileged exemptions.

I know the study of history isn’t accepted much anymore. About the Fallacy of Origins, and all that. Let me tell you something anyway. They gave us a class at the Bureau. The Prosthetic Organ Movement, the instructor said, had its roots in two turn-of-the-century phenomena. One was the AIDS pandemic which had hit most sectors of most societies by that time. The other was an upsurge of religiosity which blamed it all on the sexual impulse. Sex had created the crisis, in this view, and the object was to get rid of both the disease- transmitting sex organs and desire itself.

Early models were crude, barely functional, and wired to avoid pleasure. They weren’t much to look at, either. But, to be sure, the artificial penises wouldn’t carry the AIDS virus nor would the vaginas contract VD, and later on there were plastic breasts that couldn’t get cancer. Well, public attitudes began to change only after the Social Responsibility and Preservation of the Species Act of ’09, which made prosthetic sexual organs mandatory. Religious fervor subsided. The disappearance of disease allowed the return of pleasure. And just as some vegetarians bought vegetable sausages advertised as tasting like the real thing, so more and more people patronized biomedical establishments promising the capacity for good old-fashioned sex, like their parents and grandparents enjoyed. Manufacturers competed to deliver the natural look and the natural feel. Not that anyone knew what that looked or felt like anymore.

Nice lecture, huh? I got the memory. More: Now, today, there were some who wanted to take the sexual reformation even further. The Bureau was founded to counter the pernicious influence of the Real Sex Movement, a monstrous group of teenagers and adults who attempted to avoid the surgery legally required at the age of puberty. If not stopped, their hopelessly romantic notions of a natural sex utopia would usher in a new era of death and disease. Our mission was important, vital to the survival of the human race.

I had to admit it, though. The job was fun. It gave you that primitive feeling, out here on the street, following two females with original sex parts. It was exciting, kinky as it was. I followed them into the crowded bar of a place called Carolina’s. One of them had short black hair that curled in around her face. Not badly shaped, but a bit thin for the current season. Not so the blonde. She was a couple of inches taller and ripe in all the right places.

I maneuvered my way up to the counter, so I could hear what they were saying. It was difficult not to appear obvious in the small room. By turning slightly as I sipped my gin and tonic, I could look down the neckline of the blonde’s cream-colored dress, and trace the curve of her breast almost to the nipple. It was real, all right. I thought about her other real parts.

The short one with dark hair was talking. And let me tell you. This is really the way it happened. I got the memory, you see. Make no mistake. This is what Short-Dark said:

“There are these two sisters, see, Carol and Joyce who always wear either red or black panties. They start out in New York, and Carol flies to London while Joyce goes to Los Angeles. Carol then picks up this guy in a singles bar and takes him back to her hotel. She removes her dress and the guy observes she’s wearing red panties. Instantly he rushes to the phone and calls his friend in L.A., who all this time has been with Joyce. The two of them are laying in bed in post-coital bliss-out, and he casts his gaze at the tangled clothes strewn across the room, and sure enough, Joyce’s panties are seen laying over on the couch, and they’re black.

“On another occasion Carol flies on to Bangkok, while Joyce goes to Honolulu. The same thing happens. Only this time Joyce’s panties are red, but Carol’s are black. The key fact is that no matter what color panties the first sister is wearing when seen by a lover, the other sister is wearing the opposite color.”

I ordered myself another gin and tonic. I sure liked the way these sex primitives talked. Short-Dark kept at it:

“The question is, how did the observation of the first sister’s panties force the other sister’s underwear to have a different color? It proves that information transfer is instantaneous. Or, as physicists would say, that reality is non-local.”

“Or that someone has a large phone bill,” Blonde responded.

Short-Dark continued: “Non-local means one thing here causes something else to happen over there, with nothing in between. In physics, the observation that the colors of the panties are always different despite the displacement of the two sisters in space is just one more illustration of the Einstein-Rosen-Podolsky Paradox. It’s similar to a conceptual experiment Einstein used to show quantum mechanics must be incomplete, because otherwise information transfer would have to take place instantaneously. That is, faster than the speed of light, which Relativity said couldn’t happen. The only problem is that the experiment has now been performed numerous times–using elementary particles–and the panties are always of different colors. So information does in effect travel faster than the speed of light. Bell’s Theorem implies the blunt conclusion: reality is non-local.”

“Next you’ll tell me about Mother Bell’s Theorem, which undoubtedly concerns sex-at-a- distance.”

“I tried phone sex once,” Short-Dark replied, “but the handset was the wrong shape and I never got off. Another way to view Bell’s Theorem is to say that things that were once in contact are always in contact. The two sisters are somehow always connected, so that when observed jointly there is always a single pair of red, and a single pair of black, panties. Despite the fact that before the observation of the first pair of panties, there is probability one-half that either pair is red, and one- half that either pair is black.”

Blonde now appeared interested. “That sounds like what Sir James Frazer in The Golden Bough called the Law of Contagion. The law says that things once in contact continue to influence each other at a distance after physical contact has been severed.”

“Exactly. The information revolution leads us back to magic.”

“Praise the Lord and pass the amulets,” Blonde said, raising her glass in a toast.

Well, I’ll tell you, at this point I was thinking to myself, Holy Horus. If I file a report on this conversation, they’ll throw me out of the office. They’ll say I made it up. On the other hand, it would be a crime not to report anything I overheard. That’s strict Bureau policy. If I didn’t report it, and they discovered my omission, I would be booted right out on the street. To be kicked out of the Bureau would involve things too horrible to think about. Things I can’t tell you. You wouldn’t want to know, anyway. Holy Horus, like I said. And it got worse.

“Thinking in terms of information correlations leads to other weirdness. Like the conclusion that space and time don’t exist. Not in the way we normally think,” Short-Dark said.

“We think that City Hall is located over THERE, at the corner of Broad and Market. That the Philadelphia police bombed the M.O.V.E. house THEN, on May 13, 1985. We say this is there. Such and such happened then. But it’s all nonsense. The belief that the Universe is organized according to space and time is a myth created by the human mind.”

Now we were getting somewhere. It could be the name of a new radical group. M.O.V.E. Hmm. The “O” and the “V” probably stood for “Original Vagina”. No telling about the “M” and “E”.

“Secretly we already know this. The clues peek out at us every day, but we ignore them. One day you read a magazine and come across a word, say abstemious. It strikes you. You look it up in the dictionary. Then a while later you turn on the radio. You hear someone talking about ‘abstemious behavior’. For the next several days your friends and neighbors, and people in the subway, suddenly seem in love with ‘abstemious’.”

“One should never be abstemious with love.”

Blonde glanced up at in my direction as she said this. Why was she looking at me? Why were they talking like this? Maybe I should move back, be a little less conspicuous. I was hoping they’d get back to the panty discussion. That way I could just skip the middle section of dialogue as unimportant detail.

“Why?” Short-Dark ignored the interruption. “What causes the word to suddenly pop out of the woodwork everywhere you turn? There is no causality involved. Wolfgang Pauli, the physicist, and Carl Jung, the psychologist, called the phenomena synchronicity. They referred to it as an acausal connecting principal. They didn’t explain it very well, because information theory was still in its infancy.”

“Abstemious behavior is hard to explain.”

Then it occurred to me. Maybe they were both on drugs. Yeah. That would be a safe thing to say in the report. On drugs and rambling incoherently. What else would anyone expect of primitives?

“The universe is really organized like an information data bank. Suppose you want to do research on a particular subject. You go to the computer in a library and do a search over key words. Up pops a list of journal articles all dealing with that topic. The different articles don’t cause one another. They just all appear there in the list because the computer has found they all deal with the same thing. So when you focus on the word abstemious in a magazine one day, it’s as if you send out a signal to the universe to do a data search over ‘abstemious’. You then receive back your list in the form of a series of events in your life that involve that word or theme.

“Some people experience synchronicity in the form of numbers. One day the TV news reports a train wreck. The number of the train is 79257. A couple of days later the winning lottery number is 7925. Then you receive a letter from a forgotten childhood friend. The Zip Code is 79275. And so on.”

I have to tell you. Short-Dark never stopped talking. She could carry on some, that one.

“My mother once got a notice that the owner of the apartment where she lived wanted it back and that she had to move. That very evening she went out to dinner, and while they were standing in the entry way waiting for their table to be called, a waiter came by and asked if she could ‘move, just for a minute.’ Then they sat down and the couple at the next table were talking about their upcoming move to New York. She went home that night and on the TV there was a late news report of a new confrontation between the M.O.V.E. people and the police, who wanted them to move out of a house.”

Blonde looked directly at me. “It must have been a moving experience,” she said. I had a feeling of panic. A distinct impression that they knew all about me, and were just stringing me along. Were they trying to set me up? How? I looked at the bottles behind the bar and felt the warmth on my forehead. Who were these females?

The pressure in my bladder suggested an appropriate exit while I collected my thoughts. A quiet piss to think things over. Yeah. Gather my forces. And then go back out and bust those disease bags. There was a flush on my face in the mirror.

They were still there when I returned. Money and drink sitting in the same spot. Blonde was speaking. Saying something.

“–thesis. If earth is evolving a nervous system, the number of neurons is sufficient at around five billion people.”

They were silent for a minute. Then Short- Dark spoke. “Well, I’ll see you back at the apartment. I have a few things to catch up on.”

She picked up her purse and without further preliminaries headed for the door. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. I should have followed her. And later trapped them both in their cave. But I didn’t. Something about Blonde told me to stay. Blonde and her primitive sex organs.

Blonde glanced at me and then looked down at her empty glass.

“Buy you a another drink?” I asked. And don’t get wise. I’ll let you in on something. No Bureau policy prohibited getting naked with primitives. It was just the training program weeded out people who would do something that stupid. But. Well, you know. Sometimes you had to risk your life in the line of duty. What the cop.

For a moment she didn’t look up.

“I’m Craig,” I said. She was making me nervous.

Then I saw the rich blue, surrounding pupils that were opened wide. Too wide, even for the darkened room.

“Ishtar,” she responded.

No telling what I would have thought or done, normally. But I was looking into her eyes then. Into the twin pools of moonlight. I felt a preterhuman intelligence, ancient and terrible and coming from afar.

“The first and the last.” Her voice had crawled inside my brain. “The one honored and scorned. The whore who is holy. Wife and virgin and lover, mother and sister and daughter.”

I fell into the void. Yeah, yeah, don’t bother. How the cop do I know what was going on?

When I awoke I saw Short-Dark looking at me. She was polishing the barrel of a Sig Sauer X- 2256 with an oil cloth. A clip of .3815 caliber bullets lay on the bed beside her.

“We hauled you in for eavesdropping,” she said. “Data piracy has been a crime ever since HR 2366691, the Omnibus Crime Control and True Love of the American Way Act of 1997.”

“I was only having a drink,” I said. Who was she working for?

“We tested your memory banks and found you had also received unauthorized visual stimulation from parabolic parameters of my friend’s patented body architecture.”

Well, true, so what? Could it be a copyright infringement case? Maybe. Maybe they worked for one of the corporations. Some of them had some pretty tough security.

“What did she expect, dressed like that,” I said.

“What she expected was prompt payment of the tab placed on the bar beside you. Since you in fact chose to ignore it while lying on the floor in a comatose state, we are exercising our right to public seizure of all contraband items.”

“Which contraband items?” I eventually asked. Holy Isis, Mother of Horus.

“Guess.”

It was only then that I spotted the surgical tools lying on a bed of gauze on a silver platter.

“This is entrapment,” I roared in agony.

She nodded her approval: “Ah, now you understand Bell’s Theorem.”

I was thinking fast, sweating. “Listen, I work for the Bureau. If anything happens to me, you’re in trouble.”

“The Bureau? Oh, you mean the SOPs, the Sex Organ Police. Well, now, how fascinating. Maybe you should arrest yourself.”

“Listen. It’s classified information. But there’s no point, now, not to tell you. We’re allowed to keep our natural organs. It imparts special biological advantages in seeking out criminals and violators. You’ve got to fight fire with fire.”

“Do you now? Hmm. Well, without your natural organs, what’s to prove you work for the Bureau? And don’t expect them to waste effort on your behalf. You’ll be no good to them anymore.”

Keep trying. “Look, before it happens. You and me. It’ll be real primitive. Two naturals copping. Hey, what do you say?”

“Oh, listen to this! Don’t you know that for someone with natural organs to request sex of another person is statutory attempted murder? The list of charges gets longer and longer.”

“I’d be dead anyway. Surely you can understand. Someone like you. That’s why I joined the Bureau in the first place. I had met an operative one time. Instinct told me she was still intact, still had the real thing. That’s why I joined. I couldn’t stand the idea of losing my own. I’d rather be dead.”

“How do you know you’re not already?”

I was sweating now. Sure, I could feel the blob. The dead zone in my groin. But the anesthesia was pre-op, right? There was no way to tell. Not tied down like this. Maybe she was Bureau. Yeah, maybe. I had heard rumors of a counter-intelligence division. But that was all hush-hush. Maybe this was just some kind of test. Yeah, maybe that’s all it was. Maybe.

“Okay,” I said. “Come on. Who do you really work for?”

This story appeared in Beat #6, Spring 1992

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