Blog cancelled today on account of Snow...

Snow, snow and more snow!   The private school sent us a text advising us school was cancelled, but, the state school was a mystery as to what the situation was.  So, we donned our wellies and hopped on the triple tandem bike and slid our way down the hill.  A nice big sign out front announced school was cancelled.   Being a former Connecticut gal, Missmc could not understand why closures were not announced via radio or something...but it was truly lovely to enjoy the fresh London snow.

After spending a day in the park building two snowmen and cycling slippy-slidey back up the hill Missmc has had little time to think about writing today.  In fact, exhaustion has set in and a hot whiskey is probably in order.  Especially after looking at the world markets.  They are behaving worse than my children.

I promise something more exciting tomorrow, unless school is cancelled again....nine inches of snow thus far and still falling steadily...

*late note: I've just found out school is cancelled for tomorrow, so, it will likely be a lame blog again as I'll be sledging with the boys -- apologies.

Missmarketcrash has another dream...featuring Val...

Val felt like she had just woken up though she was sure she had been awake.  Yes.  They were there.  100's of small pebbles had been hurtling themselves toward her, then, they turned and retreated and dashed toward the horizon en masse and disappeared.  Last ones sucking in a strung-together curve as if something was pulling them all off the edge of the earth.  Adjusting her dark glasses, she glanced out the window at her reflection in the side mirror.  Still here she thought.  The car was stopped somewhere and he was gone.  She sat in the passenger seat and wondered how long it had been since he had left.  It never occurred to her to wonder where he was or whether he was coming back.

To know what to believe was the phrase that kept running through Val's head.  Her upper lip started to tremble again.  She tilted her head sideways against the cool glass to stop the thought and the trembling.  The angle was familiar to her and she thought again about sleep.  Time had changed and was going really fast and then really slow.  Then fast again.  And everyone's clock was different.  Under her cool breath against the window the fog formed before she drifted off.

The next chapter...

Protests relating to economic matters are starting to roll around the world.  Iceland, France, Greece, Bulgaria, Latvia, and today, the U.K. and New York City.  As well, protests are planned for this weekend  in Russia and Spain.  I'm sure this is an incomplete list, but, economic turbulence is morphing into the political...

Activism has already been turned into a revenue-generating industry as noted in this weeks Economist.   A company called Virgance as well as a few others are mobilizing the cause-related spirit and using it to generate cash.  

Could you imagine where the combination of the above two paragraphs might go?

Capitalism

After watching a bit of Davos-goings-on this morning, Missmarketcrash was pondering the shifting nature of glittering concepts.  With that, Missmarketcrash thinks a bit of nostalgia from the U.S.A is in order...

Davos has a question for You...

Davos is on and Klaus Schwab has a question for You...

Wow.  Any answers anyone?  Reply here...

Garden Gnomes and the Banking Crisis

Last evening, the pilates-thin-cheekbones-to-die-for friend of Missmarketcrash was lamenting the times. She leaned over with gravity and said a friend had just lost his business. Nodding heads offered compassion all around. And then, she said, "Well, afterall, he was selling Garden Gnomes". The wine went giggling across the table.

With ponderance, the demise of the Garden Gnome in the midst of this economic crisis could be quite ominous. On an environmental front, the Garden Gnome is the great protector of wildlife, and might indicate the dwindling importance of green issues and global warming. Butterflies beware!

The gatekeepers of fine taste have banned the Garden Gnome from the Chelsea Flower Show for a few years, making the Garden Gnome a class issue, as Brits tend to do.

The Garden Gnome is kitsch, pure and simple. Kitsch has a particular appeal to little old women and gay men. Both groups represent a good amount of disposable income for folly. Kitsch lovers divide into two classes, with the former class, made up mostly of little old women, representing the original derivation of the word. The whimsy that provides an unsubtle sentimentality, a heart on a sleeve, a kind of un-intellectual aesthetic response of pure emotion. The second group of kitsch lovers, primarily gay men but with some seepage into other parts of the population, see kitsch as a kind of irony. The drama of badness is a mask for the same kind of sentimentality but with a ponderous element. In other words, they deconstruct their kitsch. It is a love of sentimentality as an idea rather than unedited sentimentality itself. And, the third rare group - the ultra-kitsch-ers, deconstruct it, lose the irony, and love it with a straight face.

So, why then, is kitsch out of fashion? Some say kitsch is aspirational - a mere copy of something that was extraordinary reduced to mass-production and offered to the masses. Which makes it a no-no in a class-based society. And a no-go for the new austerity as aspirational has acquired a particularly bad name of late. As for the sentimental element of kitsch - emotion was certainly out for a long while in the art world, post abstract-expressionism when conceptualism came to reign. In parallel, kitsch came backheavily into the art world, via Andy Warhol, and Jeff Koons amongst others. Following that, the ultra-kitsch-ers came into popularity in the art world in a big big way in the last decade. So where are we now, with a failed Garden Gnome business and what does that mean for the world-at-large?

Hegel saw kitsch as a kind of false nostalgia. I think that is where we are now. We crave real nostalgia in times of instability. If the Garden Gnomes disappear for long enough, they will be transformed culturally back into real nostalgia.

Now - will the same kind of thing work for banks?

The Victorians

Missmarketcrash was treated to another-assembly-about-the-Victorians by her son's class at the state school. This is Victorian assembly number three for us -- son number one has attended three schools in London. Here is what I have learned about the Victorians.

At the private mostly-girls school we were informed that the Victorians worked very hard and had mean teachers who beat them. They studied hard by the light of kerosene lanterns and did fancy embroidery. The only employment suitable for females was teaching.

At the boys private school we were told that the Victorians were poor and dirty. Vermin ran rampant through the city and death and disease were common.

At the state school this morning the presentation highlighted that the Victorians marched to improve workers conditions. Victorians also won the rights to free education for children by protesting. Collective action was the predominant theme.

Amazing. Reminds me of childhood dinnertime conversations between my Conservative Libertarian father and my Hippie Democrat Mum.

A Toast to Iceland

Iceland's government left the premises yesterday.  Hard to even contemplate.  Missmarketcrash had a few drinks with Iceland last October at the Frieze Art Fair in London.  The Artists Collective known as Kling and Bang had taken a long-loved bar which was slated for demolition due to development and reconstructed it in the middle of the art fair in Regent's Park.  The outside seeped nostalgia and a slight whiff of comedic sadness.  Upon opening the door, Missmc was whisked off to Iceland with immediate effect.  A beer was poured by a delicious looking Icelandic boy with a swarthy voice that boomed across the bar.  Another beer was poured into the same glass.  Then another.  All three beers cascaded down the sides of the glass and formed an amazing lake atop the bar.  Two girls at the bar laughed. People were singing.  An infectious sense of the ridiculous descended.  The price of the beer was negotiable and rendered meaningless.  We drank and caroused.  A film was shown that had a you-had-to-be-there nostalgia that was easy to love none-the-less.  I felt like I had lived seven lives inside the bar by the time I left.  

Out to the hushed art fair tent I returned.  The light was a harsh snowy white that chilled through me and I felt a bit mute to the art I was there to look at and love.  Iceland had just gone bankrupt a few days before the fair and the irony of the Sirkus Bar wedged itself in.  The camaraderie of inside the bar was in stark juxtaposition to the posturing of the dealers and collectors wandering around the Frieze tent.  I did not want to look at art anymore, I wanted to go back to Sirkus.

And so today my heart goes out to Iceland.  I am certain all will be set right - they have such a fine group of citizens with most excellent social skills.  If they can come up with a Tom Selleck Moustache Competition they certainly have the wherewithal to achieve anything...

Skal.

Deep Valley...

Mondays are filled with anticipation as the behind-the-scenes bank wranglings usually provide a cliffhanger for the Monday markets.  This weekend seemed a bit quiet and the markets are responding in a kind gentle positive way.  Many kinds of cognitive illusions are conjured daily and shuffled and reshuffled to great effect these days.  A treatise on the mechanisms of these devices is well in order in relation to the investments arena - an update of sorts would be interesting.  The chatter behind the scenes has grown several marvelous constructs in relation to the doomsday-which-cometh.  One which keeps fascinating me is an idea that the U.S. Fed has been propping up the stock prices of various financial institutions by purchase interventions.  This is a theory of old from the 90's which has popped up again in the current crisis.  What and how much the Fed is doing behind the scenes is a topic of much speculation.  The Fed is meeting this week and is expected to make an announcement of little interest on Wednesday as interest rates have no where to go.  In late February, the Fed is expected to give information on its closed door sessions it has been conducting.  Whether this is conspiracy theory nonsense, or, will reveal things the public is not particularly charmed with is not the point.  The point is more that there is a general feeling out there that the U.S. Government is doing something that know one knows about and no one can see.  That is the real to some, whether it is real or not.

It is the unknown which creates ghosts of substance and there are certainly a great number of them floating about these days.  My children are full believers in things-which-are-not-there and the world is reinforcing these kinds of beliefs at the moment.  It is quite difficult to be a realist when the reality is shifting.  On that note, Missmc thinks perhaps a remake of Twin Peaks is in order - we need Agent Cooper on the case of the disappearing banks, and, we need the Log Lady to orate the future for us again.  Let's call the show "Deep Valley".

iTARP

Two very jolly children were headed for the toy department of Harrods yesterday as a reward for letting The Burns Supper party go uninterrupted by dulcet trumpetings.  A bit of a bribe, but, they had credit due for some returned Christmas toys that were duplicates.  Our walk to the toy department took us on a tour of various things along the way including a Chinese hamster (which looked like a kitchen mouse), a tower of apricots, and a whole village of animated soft toys who waved and winked at us.  The spectacle of shopping and all its surprises and excesses was a rather welcome kind of magic after a torrid week of economic and market reports.  We exited with a bag of toys and books as well as some treats to celebrate the Chinese New Year with.  

It is the Year of the Earth Ox and so, hard-working, calm, intelligent, patient, stable...Stable? What a fine attribute for 2009.  Missmarketcrash could use an Ox around the house.  She is married to a "dog" and has a "snake" and a "monkey" for children.  All spot-on personality wise.  

An Ox in the house would work if it were some kind of a machine rather than a person as we currently have no vacancies.  Perhaps it would function like a kind of personal helper for our finances - an iTARP.  Yes, yes yes.  Like an iPod or iPhone, but certainly less entertaining(downright dull I imagine), the iTARP, or iOx, whatever you prefer - anyway, this gadget of sorts could toil away and work magic.  I'll bet Harrods has one for sale somewhere in their delightful shop....and it quite possibly might even be 70% off!

Quick FYI -

Missmarketcrash is in the final preparations for a large and festive Burns Supper tomorrow evening so posting will be postponed until Saturday...

Smoked venison and creme fraiche in oat and thyme baskets

Wild Mushroom and Barley Soup

Haggis, Neeps and Tatties, Lingonberry Compote, and Black Truffle and Whiskey Gravy 

Vanilla creams with oatstraws, raspberries, and raspberry rhubarb sauce

Scottish Cheeses with oatcakes

And whiskey of course.

The State of Zero

Missmarketcrash is still thinking about "Zero as a number does not make sense".  After Obama's inaugural speech yesterday, the whole world now knows the banks are at less than zero, and zero would be a rather welcome state to be in at the moment if one were a bank.  The stock markets took notice as well, and did a fantastic swan dive.  But, let's digress for a moment and ponder "Zero"...

In politics, the term "Year Zero" is a zinger.  If for any reason, after a significant event, a country would like to completely shed its past, its cultures and traditions, and, start afresh, well, it might change its calendar and start afresh with year 1, creating a new base in time.  The French revolution tried such a manuever, as did Cambodia.  So, conceptually, it has the capacity to contain more than a bit of an ominous element to it.  

So, onto plain old Zero.  "How can something be nothing" is what I think my son was getting to, centuries after the ancient Greeks pondered the same thing.  Of course, Ancient Greeks believed the world was orderly and intelligible, where as our current civilization is perceiving things within the age of chaos theory.  Quite appropriate at the moment.  Parmenides of Elea was a precurser to Hamlet with the question "Is it, or is it not?".  We've seen a surge of bankers and financiers on the "to be or not to be" topic decide not-to-be in recent months.

So, the idea of zero sometimes contains an innate element relating to "control" within it.  Zero divides us from the negative, standing as a gatekeeper to missing things.  Zero is a neutral territory, but not quite a null unknown, though it stands close to a philosophical world of indetermination.   Much like the neutral response of one of my more learned friends, it almost seems to say "I see..." in response to something.  If you've ever authored a DVD, you know zero is what one would assign as a "country" to let the DVD be enjoyed worldwide with no restrictions.

Much more could be written as there is a world of "Zero" in concept out there to ponder.  But, in regard to The-Banking-Thing, we finally have been told we are far far far less than zero.  I'm expecting my ex-beloved Bank of America stock to reach the state of zero in the next coming weeks.  Nationalization looms, and, that is basically a return to a state of Zero.  And that brings us neatly round back to the question as to whether Zero as a number makes sense.

Zero as a number does not make sense

"Zero as a number does not make sense" said the four year old at the dinner table.  I agreed. "Mum, are we going to be hippies?" said child number one.  I almost passed out.

Hippies...where does this privately-educated-until-six-weeks-ago seven year old hear about hippies?  I've not seen one in this part of London ever.  

So change is in the air, even amongst the children.  

Ok.  Let's say the world is going to be filled with hippies soon.  Hair will grow longer and music will flow.  The freshly unemployed and idle will wile away the days baking bread, reading poetry, planting a vegetable garden...

That all sounds reasonable so far...

But why were there hippies?  Hippies came about after Vietnam.  Hippies hated the government and turned on, tuned in and dropped out.  So, then perhaps I ought to tell my son that yes, now that we have The-Banking-Thing, there will certainly be a resurgence of hippies soon wandering around Dulwich, former home of Margaret Thatcher.  It still seems implausible, but, I've seen a few signs.  Many of the mums have postponed hair colorings as of late and are going brunette.  Homemade chutneys and gifts appeared at Christmas time. Gardens are being planned and bread is being baked.  But I cannot imagine any of them lying in a field, smoking marijuana and staring at the clouds contemplating the phrase "Zero as a number does not make sense".  Yet.

"Whatever is Necessary"

Missmarketcrash was stuck in traffic after the school run as she had taken the car rather than the bicycle due to torrential downpours this morning in London.  The radio was on and she drifted whilst listening to a conversation about the aesthetics of the mind and the idea of someone having a visual representation of the landscape of their thoughts.  Hyper-connectivity of ideas, and, the forms they might give perception to as a kind of architecture, with shape, textures, colors...

Quite obvious to Missmc who often thinks in technicolor, but, an idea hardly given pause by humans after the age of five.  The first born of Missmc can wax eloquent about the shape, sound, and texture of a letter or word, as can son number two.  This extends to music, architecture and most other things in the world for us, and, can weave some heady pictures when interrelations begin.  Oh dear.

Back at home Missmarketcrash watched Gordon Brown and Alastair Darling give a live Q&A on the Banking Thing and the next steps that the British Government is undertaking.  Mr. Darling's eyebrows are quite an astonishing feature of his face, and, Missmc now forever will be wedding the phrase "Whatever is Necessary" with a vision of these fine caterpillars.  

So what does the current plan look like to Missmc?  Well, it is much like Val's dream in the previous post.  Mystery boxes that are wrapped up in various ways, unopened.  They are offerings, like gifts.  They will be exchanged in kind, box for box, with everyone looking inside. Or thrown into the volcano.   They seem to be noisy presents uttering discordant sounds.  They smell like church incense.  There is more - an enormous backdrop of towering teetering things and stumbling things.  A few smart looking assemblies as well.  All somewhat personified.  Will anyone want these gifts?  Will they please us? We'll have to open them and see.  

And she wondered...

There were three boxes at her feet.  One was black, perfectly square, dull metal.  It was heavy, much heavier than its size would indicate.  The second was wrapped in ugly paper with a garish design.  The third was a perfect small thing with a bow.

Which one which one which one she thought.  She no longer trusted her taste.  Or anyone elses. And she thought she might be fooled or maybe it was a test.   The inside and the outside would surely be different.  Throw a coin, just grab one, smash them all...she nudged the heavy one with her toe.  Of course, she really did not get to choose at all.  She was just watching them. Just watching.  And waiting.  

She liked something different each day, he liked the same.  Ham sandwich ham sandwich ham sandwich.  Why was everything happening in threes?  In reality it was ham sandwich every day. But there was no more ham so it had to be different.  She felt another tremor in her lip as they rounded the corner.

Val looked out the side window.  She saw the reflection of the packages as they tipped a bit when the tires screeched.  She did not care anymore that they were going too fast.  She was used to it.

And then dear readers, Missmarketcrash woke and Val evaporated from her thoughts.  She peeled the nappy off of the little one and started the day.  And she wondered.