Well . . . here is a story line that has me thinking . . . but obviously not too deeply.

Hmmmmm, Canterbury Tales meets 60 Minutes.
What if people cared enough about fixing things?
What if we could actually get along with each other and just trade our goods for mutual benefit?

How would I start? How would it end – before the over-prescribed medications kick in?

Why am I asking you?

It was a dark and stormy night alright – the power grid was down again and the writer’s tummy was rumbling for lack of food. Woolies and Coles had sold out, to Amazon.

“The Economy doesn’t bloody work!!” shouted the inebriated economist who could not pay for the next round of drinks, or get up from the floor.

“Sit ordinary people down with a beer and a few slices of pizza and they will tell you how to fix the economy, the health system and the education system, where kids can’t read and write after 10 years in ‘school’. Academics, politicians and business executives who are in economics should be exported as burly for fishing,” replied the once-rich cray fisherman, now selling seagull poo to the social elite as ‘White Gold’.

“Many of our problems can be fixed quickly, efficiently and without bias. We need to stimulate the economy by getting manufacturing going locally, instead of importing goods. A business that buys goods, orders them on demand from overseas, and sells them at a higher price as sole agent is a sham, if those goods can be made here,” added the tradie, wearing his hi-vis shirt, to prove he has a job.

“We give away our land, water, minerals and profitable businesses for a song and then work for foreign companies. Those in the know sell their assets and shares, just before they drop in value, readying themselves to buy again, at the bottom of the abyss. Insider trading is rife,” screamed the passing ten year-old girl in tears, making her way to the scrolling, red-lined computer display.

Dan, the independent member for Stupor was becoming fidgety, and started to rave on as usual about all the things that he could change, if only someone would let him into a major political party.

“The multinationals take our natural resources and pay little or no tax. The media giants try to dumb us down, uninformed with biased news, and bombard us with their advertising and fake business articles. The inequity between government and private schools is another rort. Health, education and policing, should be uniform across all of Australia. We are over-governed by states and councils, overwhelmed by their administrative avalanche of paperwork and red-tape. Make television programs for normal, sane people (not cheap rubbish to meet the 10% local content rule). Stop splintering up major mental and social problems into narrow help-groups, creating more administration and less ‘clout’ for lobbying our politicians to act. With mental problems on the rise, it seems incredibly uncaring to keep closing down formal government assisted services.”

All the people at the bar looked around at once. Dan’s trousers had fallen down as a metaphor for the economy. It was deathly silent (trousers can’t talk without A.I.). There was no one left to say anything . . . . .

The observing writer took his cue to end the rambling story. It had run its course and had died.

“And so, we all lived happily ever after . . . abandoning all hope for the future. We then decided to seek out a meeting place where we could think quietly,” he raced off confidently.

Thank God there were churches for sale, and the flock had gone to greener pastures. Dan now wants to be an angel. I bet there’s money in that caper. Bloody economy!

After-thought . . .
If even one political party had policies for addressing all the problems of today, we may have a chance to get people interested in helping to solve them. But we don’t. They are only self-serving to their own interests . . . and to ensure they get re-elected every 3 years. We don’t have a 5 year plan, never mind a 10 year plan. Your children will grow up with today’s values. They can’t survive with that!!