Double Bubble in the money bin

I guess if I don’t write something about the economic crisis the country is going through I will be the only person anywhere to remain silent on the subject. However, I doubt this will be my only chance. The subject might be relevant for quite a while.

The stock market is “roller-coastering” and who knows when it will settle. Credit has gone somewhere, don’t ask me where. Congress is too busy passing bucks to be passing bills. And the “00s will likely be remembered most for the “great government bail-out.”

All in all, the horizon looks a little bleak. To lighten the mood, and since the whole crisis is about the “flow of cash,” I want to tell you about how my kids learned their first lessons in economics.

The legal tender among our children was chewing gum. If you had it you were rich. If you didn’t you were always trying to get “the government” you give you some.

In our house, the war-to-end-all-wars was fought over chewing gum. We had staff meetings to legislate rules for the proper use and control of the substance.

The components of the modern-day tragedy were two children and one stick of gum. Taking a piece without asking carried penalties usually reserved for horse thieves.

Each child had a well-secured money bin, not for money, but for chewing gum which was traded on the market something like this:

“Will you go upstairs and get my book bag?”

“How much will you pay me?”

“I’ll give you a stick of gum.”

“Only one piece? No way.” (Don’t try to get something for nothing.)

“Then I’ll give you a whole pack on Friday.” (Paying later makes things cost more.)

“Okay, then, I want a ten-pack of strawberry bubble gum.” (Everything has it’s price.)

The traditional form of lending with interest was practiced too.

“Do you have a piece of gum?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I have one?”

“Only if you pay me two back, or three if it takes too long.” (Interest never sleeps.)

Just to show you the regard our kids had for gum, I’ll tell you a story my daughter told me. She said that her best friend had walked all the way to town—about 12 blocks—to buy a pack of gum.

“Ha, ha, ha; she could have walked to the convenience store, but she walked all the way to town. She could have saved four blocks.” (If you work hard enough, you’ll get rich.)

“Yuk, yuk, yuk. That was so dumb.”

I’ll tell you about dumb. Only a gum-greedy capitalist would walk beyond the next room for a stick of the stuff. My daughter didn’t think that it was strange to walk a long way for a pack of gum. She only thought it was strange to walk farther than necessary.

Like the medium of exchange that most people use, gum tends to be unpredictable, and it has a destructive side. (Keep your legal tender in a safe place.)

The similarities end there because it doesn’t slip through your fingers. In fact, once used, it is non-biodegradable and indestructible, and you can’t get rid of it.

If gum gets where it doesn’t belong, you will have to live with it. And so will your children and your children’s children. (Be careful what you want, you may get it.)

Your children will inherit the piece that is stuck to the brass bedpost. Your nephew might end up with the gob that’s under the dining room table, which by the way will be free.

Real money, once you use it just sort of moves around the marketplace and isn’t really used up. This past week would be the exception. But no matter which kind of green you value—neither the most conscientious environmentalist nor the greediest capitalist wants to recycle chewing gum.