What are we supposed to do
with rural America? This is a question that keeps Paul Krugman up at
night. It bothers him because he’s both a liberal and a true believer in
capitalism. He sees deindustrialization—capitalism’s logical
consequence —leaving people behind in rural areas, but he doesn’t have a
way to square this troubling fact with a worldview that ostensibly
honors the rights and dignity of all people. So he half-asses a few
articles every now and then about expanding the social welfare state and
increasing governmental spending in rural areas.
Krugman has been on this kick for years. In 2015, he wrote about
how the only solution for the deindustrialized wastoids still living in
places like Puerto Rico and Appalachia is better social security
payments, healthcare, and public services. His reasoning was that some
places are sacrificed every now and then to the “shifting tides of
globalization.” As a pragmatic economist, Krugman understands that it’s
not wise to entirely throw these people away; indeed, you have to
preserve some semblance of a labor force in the event that the tides of
globalization shift back in their favor.
…
The only thing capable of breaking the conservative stranglehold on
rural communities—and of breaking the power of their foot soldiers in
the local school boards, chambers of commerce, and churches—is a
nationwide political movement based in the actual interests of the
working class: the service industry employees and care workers, the
teachers and tenants. That’s because the right wing has their own
institutions, programs, and forms of ideological preservation in rural
areas. They have invested heavily in them for the last thirty years, and
they will not stop until rural America is a useless ecological
graveyard. Conservatives see their beliefs gradually losing support, and
they have entered death cult mode. They want to squeeze as much profit
and as many resources out of rural areas as possible, until we, too,
have gone to the graveyard.
The result is a rapidly deteriorating economic landscape that stumps
writers like Krugman. When he writes about the economic forces
contributing to rural America’s decline “that nobody knows how to
reverse,” the “nobody” he’s referring to is himself. Krugman’s
liberalism, with its focus on slow incrementalism and social tinkering,
has become incompatible with rural economies that are beholden to the
whims of increasingly embattled industry. In the days when America’s
economy was booming after World War II, when regulations meant to
safeguard the financial interests of ordinary people didn’t necessarily
threaten the immense wealth that was being produced throughout society,
it was feasible that pro-business ideas could coexist with liberal
doctrines like human rights and social welfare policies. But in the era
of post-industrial capitalism, as wages decline, jobs are relocated, and
the social safety net shrinks, it’s become impossible to square that
contradiction.
Behold the tomb of Aeolis, the cheerful little dog, whose loss to fleeting fate pained me beyond measure.
Raeda[r]um custos numquam latravit inepte. nunc silet et cineres vindicat um- bra suos.
This guard of the coaches never barked unsuitably. Now he is silent and his shade protects his ashes.
Quam dulcis fuit ista quam benigna quae cum viveret in sinu iacebat somni conscia semper et cubilis o factum male Myia quod peristi latrares modo si quis adcubaret rivalis dominae licentiosa o factum male Myia quod peristi altum iam tenet insciam sepulcrum nec sevire potes nec insilire nec blandis mihi morsib(us) renides.
How sweet and friendly she was! While she was alive she used to lie in the lap, always sharing sleep and bed. What a shame, Midge, that you have died! You would only bark if some rival took the liberty of lying up against your mistress. What a shame, Midge, that you have died! The depths of the grave now hold you and you know nothing about it. You cannot go wild nor jump on me, and you do not bare your teeth at me with bites that do not hurt.
Portavi lacrimis madidus te nostra catella, quod feci lustris laetior ante tribus. ergo mihi, Patrice, iam non dabis osculla mille nec poteris collo grata cubare meo. tristis marmorea posui te sede merentem et iunxi semper manib(us) ipse meis, morib(us) argutis hominem simulare paratam; perdidimus quales, hei mihi, delicias. tu dulcis, Patrice, nostras attingere mensas consueras, gremio poscere blanda cibos, lambere tu calicem lingua rapiente solebas quem tibi saepe meae sustinuere manus, accipere et lassum cauda gaudente frequenter
Bedewed with tears I have carried you, our little dog, as in happier circumstances I did fifteen years ago. So now, Patrice, you will no longer give me a thousand kisses, nor will you be able to lie affectionately round my neck. You were a good dog, and in sorrow I have placed you in a marble tomb, and I have united you forever to myself when I die. You readily matched a human with your clever ways; alas, what a pet we have lost! You, sweet Patrice, were in the habit of joining us at table and fawningly asking for food in our lap, you were accustomed to lick with your greedy tongue the cup which my hands often held for you and regularly to welcome your tired master with wagging tail.
Source: Electronic Archive of Greek and Latin Epigraphy
I just thought I’d let you know, OP, that I am now SOBBING over dogs that have been dead for hundreds of years.
“His owner has buried the dog Parthenope, that he played with, in gratitude for this happiness (Mutual) love is rewarding, like the one for this dog: Having been a friend to my owner, I have deserved this grave. Looking at this, find yourself a worthy friend who is both ready to love while you are still alive and also will care for your body (when you die).”
Transcription & grave in Archaeological Museum - Istanbul
The council has convened and agreed that these were all the goodest dogs.
