Why we like Paul Krugman

Krugman is always good, but here's one of his krugest statements. I've been thinking about it since I read it in the NYT in 2016, long before the elections:

And, yes, this being us, now we have to paddle our wares. There's nothing about Krugman in This Is Heaven, but we have an entire Krugman chapter in the GREEN EYES, Chapter 38, titled (don't hold your breath): "What's Paul Krugman's Penis Size."

Fragment:  

I have been courageous enough to ask for a table for two to be ready at seven, we’ll have to wait some more. Howard will have a drink at the bar. Let’s get this on track immediately, let’s talk about the gym. I didn’t have a chance to go to the gym during the last couple of days, too busy. You can’t imagine how busy life is for a hippocampus teacher during the college break, but tomorrow I’ll be going (duh, duh, duh). So I’m teaching French. How interesting. Interesting, indeed. How to turn the conversation to murder? I seemingly can’t make the transition, bubbling instead about the influence of French on the evolution of English, or hiding the many weaknesses of my résumé.

I see two tables cleared next to the central window on the street side, very good tables indeed, when I notice two people to my left, who have replaced the beefy guy. I’ve seen the face of the man before, on my blog, actually. We’re famous in Georgia Beach, seriously, folks. Will I tell Trevor? You think Trevor would be interested in politics, or the New York Times, or economics, or Nobel prizes? Possibly not—you have other problems when you’re a confirmed bachelor without a future. Trevor, who must be looking right into the eyes of Paul Krugman behind me, shows no signs of recognition what-so-ever. It’s crystal-clear, he’s not attracted to the fifty-nine year old Nobel laureate.

The Donald, Paul Krugman, and the GREEN EYES

I.

"Scroll down"

II.

You've possibly had a chance already to notice that the GREEN EYES are about more than gay sex or romance. Worse, they are mostly about everything else. And so they are also about the Republican Base (e.g., John's father (John---the narrator of the GREEN EYES)), or about Paul Krugman, the Nobel laureate and New York Times columnist. But since we are the GREEN EYES, our most pressing concerns are frivolous. So we wonder "What is Paul Krugman's penis size?" (that's actually the title of Chapter 38).

You need to know?

So, here's a fragment from Chapter 38 (John has an appointment with Trevor Howard, the assistant DA whom he is trying to convince that something needs to be done about Dick Benson, the resident murder-psychopath of the piece; John is also thinking about starting an escort service, and so on):

III.

I see two tables being cleared next to the central window on the street side, very good tables indeed, when I notice two people to my left, who have replaced the beefy guy. I’ve seen the face of the man before, on my blog, actually. We’re famous in Georgia Beach, seriously, folks. Will I tell Trevor? You think Trevor would be interested in politics, or the New York Times, or economics, or Nobel prizes? Possibly not—you have other problems when you’re a confirmed bachelor without a future. Trevor, who must be looking right into the eyes of Paul Krugman behind me, shows no signs of recognition what-so-ever. It’s crystal-clear, he’s not attracted to the fifty-nine year old Nobel laureate.

Sirrr --- "die menschliche Dummheit is grenzenlos"

(We did it again, we did it again. Another Sirrr letter, this time in the comment section of Paul Krugman's latest column in the NYT:)

Paul Krugman

Sirrr:  Following up on the last comment (people can't be reasoned with): why --- yes, in the end, they can. We've been there before, like the Chinese were for more than a thousand years during which time the frequent and devastating floods of the Yellow River basin were answered by raising the standards of the entry exams of the bureaucratic Mandarin elite (mostly writing poetry). Wasn't it crystal clear that the ancestors had gotten upset again about declining poetic standards and showed their anger through provoking natural disasters? Or think about the infamous earthquake of Lisbon in 1755, to which the authorities reacted by staging more autodafés --- wasn't it clear that God had shown his anger and needed to be mollified by more vigorous answers to overall sinning?

Along those lines, isn't it clear that the world will go under if we don't lower the budget deficit now, now (never mind that a significant percentage of the demographic believing this also believes that the world will come to an end anyhow soon, compliments Jesus Christ and impending Rapture proceedings). Isn't it clear that the answer to all economic problems lies in lowering taxes --- because it's the hardworking, dogged, teneacious rich that create jobs, those people that could get discouraged so easily by higher marginal taxes, even though the marginal income tax rate under Eisenhower (when the American economy really grew precipitously) was 91%, instead of 35, or 39%.

My father (who was German) used to say: "Die menschliche Dummheit ist grenzenlos." In this spirit.

(And while we are at it, a fitting fragment from the Green Eyes --- not the first time we're posting this fragment, but there you have it:)

Chapter 38 --- What's Paul Krugman's penis size

You think Trevor would be interested in politics, or the New York Times, or economics, or Nobel prices? Possibly not—you have other problems when you're a confirmed bachelor without a future. Trevor, in any case, who must be looking right into the eyes of Paul Krugman behind me, Trevor shows no signs of recognition what-so-ever, it's crystal-clear, he's not attracted to the fifty-nine year old Nobel laureate. In the distant past, when penises had average size, there was some talk in some quarters that IQs would be sexy, but we have proof now (sample-of-one!) that Krugman either does not look the part or that IQs are out. What's Krugman's penis size? Krugman, I realize, is drinking sparkling water, which is actually penis-enhancing, at least in the sense that alcohol induces impotence. That's what I should do, drink sparkling water, do they award Nobel prices for French? Should I raise my voice a bit so that Krugman can hear me and admire what I have to say about the Normans and their conquest of the Anglo-Saxon tongue? Where am I now, 0.13 BAC? Did you know that French has more words for booze than English? Or vice versa?