complacency, love of power, or foolish idealism, we refuse to do it. We think we can dabble in freedom—allow a few of its liberties and leave our favorite constraints in place. We think we can screw around with the free market—skip its costs and get all of its benefits anyway. There is a joke that I think President Reagan used to tell to illustrate the attitude that some people have toward the blessings they get from freedom and private property. If Reagan didn’t tell the joke, he should have. He won’t mind the attribution. Doubtless he’s forgotten all about economics now. And I’m with the president on that. I intend to start forgetting about economics as soon as I can— keeping in mind, however, a few rudimentary conceits, such as the one about the traveling salesman who is staying overnight with a farm family. When the family sits down to eat, there’s a pig in a chair at the table. The pig has three medals hanging around its neck and a wooden leg. The salesman says, “Um, I see a pig is having dinner with you.” “Yep,” says the farmer. “That’s because he’s a very special pig. You see those medals around his neck? Well, the first medal is from when our baby son fell in the pond and was drowning, and that pig dove in, swam out, and saved his life. The second medal, that’s from when our little daughter was trapped in a burning barn, and that pig ran inside, carried her out, and saved her life. And the third medal, that’s from when our oldest boy was cornered in the stockyard by a mean bull, and that pig ran under the fence, bit the bull’s tail, and saved the boy’s life.” “Yes,” says the salesman, “I can see why you let that pig sit right at the table and have dinner with you. And I can see why you awarded him the medals. But how did he get the wooden leg?” “Well,” says the farmer, “a pig like that—you don’t eat him all at once.” ‡‡‡‡‡ Something wonderful continues to happen. As of 2019 world per capita GDP is estimated by the IMF to be $18,381. §§§§§ Another forgotten scandal. In 1996 a human rights group reported that clothing for Kathie Lee Gifford’s “Kathie Lee” brand was being sewn in Honduran sweatshops. Gifford made “a-mends” so to speak by becoming a labor rights activist. ¶¶¶¶¶ The statistical trends cited in the two preceding paragraphs have continued—good numbers going up, bad numbers coming down. But the new edition of this book comes while we’re still in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic. Let it be a reminder that there’s nothing inevitable or preordained about life getting better for all the people around the world. Something could fuck it up. The something might be a disease. The something might be an asteroid strike. But the most likely fucker-upper is us, all the people around the world.
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