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The Golden Curse of Caveman Org: A Very Brief History of Economics

By Jaroslav Dampfstain

My only undoing as an undergraduate—other than failing to convince my coed dorm lust-bomb neighbor Helen Blatz that there really was a party in my pants—was Economics 101. Of course, my struggles with the course may have been influenced by the fact that the class met three times a week at 7 a.m. and was taught by a Lebanese professor whose English sounded like a hippo gargling mashed potatoes.

Later in life, I attempted to shore up my deficit understanding of the science of material welfare by trying to read The Wealth of Nations by Adam Smith. I now know why the fine print on a credit card finance pamphlet is a requisite alternative to sleeping pills. Seriously, anyone who entitles a chapter “Digression Concerning the Corn Trade and Corn Laws” ought to have his bottom flogged skinless.

Thus, I find myself midway through life, an assiduous-yet-wise consumer, capable of balancing a checkbook to the penny and maintaining a personal budget shrewdly so as to afford a decent annual vacation, yet I couldn’t tell the difference between macro or microeconomics if someone put an abacus to my head. I also couldn’t explain why the price of gasoline fluctuates every time OPEC gets a sand spider stuck up its crack. Nor could I tell you why the British pound is worth twice as much as the U.S. dollar, nor why the World Bank has mercifully prevented the devaluation of the Haitian gourde.

However, I could tell you that I once worked at a bookstore in Washington D.C. and filled a telephone order for then Federal Reserve Chairman Alan Greenspan. He was buying a present for Treasury Secretary Robert Rubin. I still carry Greenspan’s American Express card number in my wallet—which comes in handy every time someone wants to run a credit check on me. (I could probably rent Luxembourg if I felt like it.)

My brush with interest rate fame aside, I don’t know a damned thing about the cabal of currency and capital. Nor do I have the patience to meander 18th-century tomes on the subject. But I’m not exactly a moron. I’m sure I can one-up the likes of Lou Dobbs and Warren Buffet with some ‘common cents’ analysis.

First, I shall analyze the origins of economy. Etymologically, the word economics derives from the Greek ‘oikos’ (meaning “house”) and ‘nomos’ (meaning “law.”) Economics thus means “house-law.” Okay, that really fucking helps, doesn’t it?

How about I push those origins back a bit further with an Aesopian vignette…

Ages ago, a Neanderthal named Org was wandering his forest neighborhood. As he crossed a shallow brook, he spied a sizeable yellow nugget sparkling in the sunlight. He thought, “My, what a lovely thing!” (Actually, he probably thought, “Org-paga-donk!”)

He bit into the yellow nugget, but it didn’t taste very good. He did however notice that the yellow nugget was an excellent conductor of electricity. After further investigation, Org noticed that he was holding a malleable, univalent and trivalent transition metal which, although it did not react with most chemicals, did dissolve in mercury, which could come in handy should he desire to create an amalgam alloy. He realized the yellow nugget was also insoluble in nitric acid and thus could be used for inquartation, better known as an acid test. But mostly Org just thought the yellow nugget was pretty to look at. So he called it gold and returned to his community.

When Org showed off his yellow nugget, he noticed that many female Neanderthals became flirtatious, much to the chagrin of his male cave counterparts. Org grew fond of a lady name Jabo, who had great birthing hips and a nose pieced with bear bone.

Org fooled around with a stone hammer and knocked a chip off the nugget. He pounded the chip flat, then fashioned it into a glittering ring. He promised to give the ring to Jabo. Delighted, Jabo played with Org’s sex club day and night, until he actually gave her the ring, at which point she refused to grant further pleasure unless Org made another ring.

Pretty soon Org had given away all of his gold nugget. But he did have an amazing cache for his trading efforts: more stone tools than anyone in the neighborhood, a saber-tooth tiger skeleton, 13 goats, a fashionable wardrobe of mammoth fur, and a wife.

Org noticed that the little chips of his gold nugget he had traded were being fashioned into all sorts of nifty pieces of jewelry. Some pieces were even being flattened into flat discs, which folks starting calling “ko-yns.”

Unfortunately, there weren’t enough pieces of gold to satisfy everyone. Some cave folks stole pieces of gold from their neighbors. This led to lots of yelping and sometimes even violent clashes.

Org thought that if he flooded the market with pieces of gold, everyone would stop acting like such jealous dicks. So he returned to the shallow brook to find more gold. Of course, the neighborhood up and followed him; pretty soon everyone was panning the brook for more shiny yellow pieces. This led to inflation. Soon a wife cost way more than a thin gold ring. Sometimes you even had to throw in a few goats.

A Neanderthal named Klot discovered a huge vein of gold. He chipped it into a thousand little pieces. He gave pieces to anyone who promised to repay him with twice as much gold in one month’s time. If a cave borrower couldn’t fulfill his promise, Klot cut off their hand. Then Klot thought better and started charging interest.

Meanwhile, Org felt discouraged. His discovery had ruined Neanderthal life. Everyone had stopped hunting and gathering and goofing off. A huge system of industrialized material production had sprung up, just so everyone could have their own little yellow nuggets. Also, his wife Joba had left him for a caveman named Banq who was trading tree bark as gold substitute.

Joba described to Org the concept of alimony, and Org said enough was enough. He moved to a faraway forest and found some odd-looking hominids who called themselves homo sapiens. He entered a pub and shared with his tragic story with the locals. They started to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Org asked. (Actually, he said, “Conk-fugga-fugga?”)

Everyone was bent over guffawing. “Ha-ha! The gold standard! We gave that up ages ago!”

“Really?” Org asked.

The bartender handed Org his beer. “Yeah. You wanna start a tab?”

“Sure,” Org said.

The bartender held out a hand, “Cool. I’ll just need a plastic rectangle.”

Mr. Dampfstain is filling in for columnist Harry S. Iarch, who is on assignment this week selling gold bars from Ft. Knox on eBay.