onsdag 29. mars 2017

Etikkrådets mandat. Oljefondets miljøhat

Sigurd Bjørnestads artikkel i Aftenposten, onsdag 29. mars 2017, er en tannløs copycat kommentar om Oljefondets 6 700 millioner kroners investering i Dakota Acess-rørledningen.

I veldressert aftenpostenstil refererer han budskapet fra The Woman’s Earth and Climate Action Networks møte med tre ansatte i Etikkrådets sekretariat. Selve Etikkrådet får kvinnedelegasjonen ikke lov til å møte. Dette er en byråkratisk teknikk for å hindre vanlige mennesker å komme i kontakt med makt-elitens løpegutter.

Avfeid av en gammel e-post
Ifølge Bjørnestad har Aftenposten mottatt en tidligere e-post fra kommunikasjonssjef Thomas Sevang i Oljefondet om selskapene som er involvert i rørledningen: Vi kan dessverre ikke kommentere enkeltselskaper, men vi forventer at selskaper respekterer menneskerettigheter og tar hensyn til menneskerettigheter i sin virksomhet. Våre forventninger retter seg først og fremst mot selskapers styrer og er et utgangspunkt for dialog med selskapene om menneskerettigheter.
   Festtaleord om forventninger …. Oljefondet kan forvente seg etiske handlinger fra selskapene som fondet har investert i, til Helvete fryser over. Ifølge Bjørnestads artikkel har Oljefondet ved årsskiftet investert 2 400 millioner kroner i Energy Transfer Partners, 442 millioner kroner i Sunoco Logistics og 2 900 millioner kroner i oljeselskapet Philips 66. Disse selskapet skal via stråselskaper bygge, eie og drifte oljeledningen. Flere spiker i klodens CO2 miljø-regnskap og global oppvarming. Både Oljefondet, Etikkrådet og Aftenpostjournalister vet at ovennevnte selskaper har bare ett eneste siktemål: Avkastning til aksjeeiere. Miljø, menneskerettigheter og urfolk be damned!

Etikkrådets mandat og virkeligheten
Etikkrådet skal ikke bare vurdere brudd på menneskerettigheter, men også vurdere Oljefondets investeringer når det gjelder naturressursutvinning i omstridte områder.
   Oljefondet investerer ikke bare tungt i selskapene som er ansvarlig for Dakota Access selskapets brudd på menneskerettigheter. Fondet har investert tusenvis av millioner kroner i over 20 selskaper som direkte og indirekte er involvert i utvinningen av klimaskadelig gull.
   Som kjent brukes ikke gull i særlig grad i industrien, 12-13 % går til smykker og 80 % av alt gull som graves opp, gjemmes bort i hemmelige hvelv som barrer og mynter. Utvinningen av gull står for 75 000 tonn CO2 utslipp per tonn. Det utvinnes 3 000 tonn gull årlig.
   Oljefondet blir dermed medansvarlig for millioner av tonn CO2 som slippes ut i atmosfæren gjennom selskapene det investerer i. Global oppvarming og klimakriser betyr i praksis ingenting for ansatte med makt i Finansdepartementet, Norges Banks ledelse og Oljefondets spekulanter. Hadde klima betydd noe, hadde de gjort noe.

En papirtiger uten makt
Det er bare å se i øynene: I miljømessig sammenhenge er Etikkrådet en papirtiger som har liten, hvis noen, innflytelse på Oljefondets ødeleggende investeringer.

fredag 24. mars 2017

Norge eksporterer uregistrert gull

Statistisk sentralbyrå viser Handelsbalansen for Norge. Importen av varer viser en stigende trend og eksporten av varer fortsetter en synkende trend. Gull er kjerringa mot strømmen. Handelsbalansen 2016

Gulleksporten er større enn importen
En av selvmotsigelsene i tabellgrunnlaget SSB presenterer er import- og eksportstatistikken over gull. År etter år eksporterer Norge mer gull enn landet importerer. Statistikk fra SSB klarer ikke å vise hvordan og hvorfor dette skjer.
   Tolldirektoratet vet ikke (eller får ikke lov til å vite?) hvordan et land, som ikke produserer gull, klarer å eksportere denne ettertraktede varen i hundre-millioner klassen. Den eneste forklaringen på fenomenet er at det årlig importeres store mengder gull som ikke blir registrert av Tolldirektoratet. Det har oppstått et gråmarked for handelen med edle metaller. Ifølge SSB var importverdien av gull 611 millioner kroner og eksportverdien 770 millioner kroner i 2016. Tolletaten vet ikke

Verdens dyktigste investorer?
Nå kan man argumentere at norske gullinvestorer er fenomenal dyktig og henter ut en solid fortjeneste med handelen av fysisk gull, Men en artikkel i Dagens Næringsliv viser at det ble eksportert gull for mellom 1,5 og 1,9 milliarder kroner i 2011 og 2012. Importen i samme tidsrom begrenset seg til henholdsvis 9,8 og 26 millioner kroner.
   Klarer man å forvandle gull for 26 millioner til 1900 millioner kan man forklare fenomenet med at noen har funnet Odins ring, Draupne . Ringen som dryppet åtte tilsvarende gullringer hver niende natt. Draupne

Ikke-moneært
Tabell: 08818 viser utenrikshandel med varer, etter varegruppe. Gull-ikke monetært, ligger innunder varegruppe 971. Det er under denne betegnelsen hunden ligger begravet. Ikke-monetært. Det importeres store mengder merverdiavgiftfritt monetært gull til Norge. Monetært gull er ifølge importørene ikke en vare, men penger. Penger betaler man som kjent ikke moms på. Dermed registreres ikke gullpenger (bullion – investeringsmynter) som importert gull av Tolletaten. Utenrikshandel med gull

onsdag 22. mars 2017

History in the making

How many hours must you work to pay for 31,103 grams of gold. Time is the true price you pay when you are playing with the shiny metal.

The price of gold, at the time of writing, 22.03.2017, is $ 1247 an ounce. Analysts can explain the slow increase the last week has seen, and historical data from Kitco shows the development over a ten year span. Remember to check out how much you have to pay for the greenback. Check out Kitco for the latest updates. 1 dollar = 8,45 NOK

mandag 20. mars 2017

Gråspurv i Tranedans

Oljefondet er et viktig investeringsfond med 7767 milliarder kroner i aksjer, verdipapirer og eiendom, men huskjøp til 1,4 milliarder er vekslepenger for de som handler i gull.

Oljefondet kjøpte billig fra Brexit-desperate briter
var overskriften på en artikkel i Aftenposten 20 mars 2017. Kort oppsummert omtaler artikkelen Oljefondets kjøp av en eiendom i London. 13. juli 2016 ble kjøpesummen på 124 millioner pund (1,4 milliarder kroner) overført til selgerens konto. Bygningen i Oxford Street var blitt kjøpt i løpet av syv dager. Artikkelen opplyser videre at slike eiendoms-handler tar i gjennomsnittet 90 dager. Oljefondet oppfatter syv dager som raskt, men hvis fondet hadde handlet direkte i gull ville hastigheten vært noe helt annet.

Gull for milliarder
London er en av verdens tre store gullsenter for kjøp og salg av gull. Gull handles over disk direkte mellom kjøper og selger. Det finnes ingen offentlige tall om hvor mye gull som skifter eiere, men London Bullion Market Association’s (LBMA) estimerer at det handles for 26 milliarder dollar (221 milliarder kroner) hver eneste dag. Dette markedet er lukket for vanlige, fattige mennesker og bare de fem klargjøringsbankene HSBC, ICBC Standard Bank, JPMorgan, Scotiabank og UBS vet hvem som eier hvor mye av gullet som ligger lagret i hemmelige hvelv.  London Bullion Market Association’s

torsdag 16. mars 2017

Millionhjelp til India

Norads statistikk er ikke ajourført, men den viser at Norge overførte i 2015 hele 138 millioner kroner til India. 300 millioner indere mangler elektrisitet og fire av ti barn er underernærte.

Statsminister Modi har andre prioriteter en statsminister Solberg
Landets befolkning importerte 905 tonn gull til en verdi av 330 millioner kroner tonnet i 2015. Gull til en samlet verdi av 300 milliarder kroner blir dermed liggende til ingen nytte i templer, under madrassen eller som vakre smykker på rike kvinner.
   India tvangsdempet gullfeberen i 2016, og importerte bare 516 tonn gull til en verdi av 170 milliarder kroner. I løpet av bare to år har dermed det dysfunksjonelle landet låst 470 milliarder kroner istedenfor å bruke pengene til grunnleggende behov.
   Det skal bli artig å se hvor stor u-hjelpen fra Norge ble i 2016. India trenger disse pengene. Da kan befolkningen kjøpe gull for frigjorte midler selv om usle 138 norske millioner bare er lommerusk å regne.

tirsdag 14. mars 2017

Filthy Rich and No Future

A rich, Lutheran country like Norway like to impress the world by giving away huge amounts of polluting oil money. Norwegian politicians give an impression of austerity by not showing off the country’s wealth to the population.

They do not build 1000 meters high skyscrapers, modern railways, the state of the art classrooms, hospitals without beds in the corridors and old age homes where the old people can die with dignity. No, the best way to show off the country's puritan riches is pretending humility and waste money on gold rich countries that do not need the money.

The rulers of the Byzantine Empire thought otherwise
From the 10th century, however, until the end of the twelfth, the Byzantine Empire projected an image of wealth and luxury. Constantine V's reforms (c. 765) marked the beginning of a revival that continued until 1204. The travelers who visited its capital were impressed by the wealth accumulated in Constantinople; riches that also served the state's diplomatic purposes as a means of propaganda, and a way to impress foreigners as well its own citizens. (Wikipedia).
   Gold coins then as now, were important political and monetary instruments: When Manuel became emperor he ordered 2 gold coins to be given to every householder in Constantinople and 200 pounds of gold (including 200 silver coins annually) to be given to the Byzantine Church. When his niece Theodora married King Baldwin III of Jerusalem in 1157, Manuel gave her a dowry of 100,000 gold coins, 10,000 gold coins for marriage expenses, and presents (jewels and silk garments) which were worth 14,000 gold coins total. (Wikipedia).

Good as Gold
Gold coins are not present in the official economy of Norway, at least not on the surface. However, gold coins live their shadow lives in the Norwegian private economy. Bullion is not the kind of riches that are talked about if it can be avoided. The political elite and the one percent rich have not forgotten the powers of gold.  And if we can learn from long dead cultures. Read more about the fascinating gold economy of Byzantin gold

onsdag 8. mars 2017

The Murder Mound

by Robert Wood
Every year, when the month twisted from June to July, the murderer left for a certain East coast village which had been an important center for North Sea fisheries in the seventies.

The rotting port had been transformed by big money to a well–polished sport paradise with Café latte shops. The undulating landscape flowed past the windscreen of the old BMW X3, and exactly, at the stroke of 12, the murderer passed the last of the low houses ringing the stone harbor. The murderer smiled and parked the car in front of Ye Old Inn. The familiar sandstone building had gotten new chairs in front of the entrance, but otherwise everything was unchanged.

 – Welcome back! It is the fourth year, isn’t it, the middle–aged landlady behind the reception disk twittered.
– Yes, that’s right… The murderer put on the pleasant smile which was appropriate for the occasion. Smiles were important tools if you wanted to have something done, and the murderer had practiced smiles for all kinds of situations.
– The room you ordered on the ground floor is ready. The landlady smiled automatically back and handed over the keycard. The murderer felt peace and a feeling of wellbeing fill the body at the sight of the open landscape.
  Two o’clock and Helene had not noticed the passing of time. She had enjoyed a long lunch and read the analog newspapers. A rare treat she seldom took the time to indulge in at The Museum of Viking History. However, now it was time to enjoy the fresh air of the seaside. She had a lot of hard work waiting.
– Do you know what? The landlady said secretively as she passed the reception desk. – We have a celebrity staying here. He checked in a few minutes after you. Mr. Parsons!
–The author? Helene asked.
The landlady nodded with shining eyes. – His books about single men raising kids alone are so touching. He is such a handsome man with a strong personality.  Don’t you think so?
– Actually, I have met him once, Helene answered. – He showed up without an appointment at my office. He wanted to know about Viking burial customs. I gave him a copy of my book, Burial Customs in an Age Undreamed. A few days later I received a signed copy of his latest suspense novel. I guess it was his way of saying thank you.

Parsons got up from the quilted bed. He was tired after the journey and the dammed writer’s block did not improve his moods. He hoped that getting away from the capital would lead to new inspirations and fresh insights so that he could finish his sixth thriller. It might have been a mistake introducing his protagonist, DC Max Foxe, to a murder scene involving Viking gold. However, he was convinced that pleasant walks and fishing from the hotel’s rubber dinghy would do the trick. A relaxed mind is a creative mind, he thought.

The murderer enjoyed the sight of the desolate landscape. Strange how lazy people are. Only the most dedicated tourists bothered to walk the two miles to the Viking mounds, the burial grounds more than thousand years old. However, the murderer enjoyed the thought of the once pillaging Vikings, their burial gold and other valuable treasures resting under the stones. The murderer lingered on memories of violence, blood and rotting corpses. Wasn’t death the most fascinating aspect of life? The pleasures of power. The unsuspecting victim. Applying a burst of intense pain. See the surprise in the dimming eyes. The murderer felt a welcoming elation when thinking about the intense pleasures of holding the warm, shivering body, a moment or two, before letting go.

Helene measured the inside of the test excavation with a sure hand. As any trained and experienced archeologist she knew what she was doing. Getting back to the inn she would turn the notes into a report for the Museum Board. She already knew her recommendations for the future of the Viking graves. However, she wanted exact measurements to underpin her well founded, professional arguments. The Museum’s board of directors had to be convinced to do what she wished to be done.

Parsons enjoyed a delicious dish of king–prawns lightly dressed in a coating of creamy garlic sauce. Ye Old Inn was renowned for its good food and well stocked wine cellar. All in all, life was good and might turn out even better he thought when Helene glided into the dining room. He had read her book and done extensive research on the Vikings way of life. Her name had showed up in quite a few papers and international magazines. Moreover, she was a good looking woman, and if he played his cards rightly she would be the key to the inspirational release he needed. Should he talk to her? No, better keep a low profile.

Moments before the murderer drifted to sleep the thoughts went to the previous victim. How the dagger had penetrated the jugular, the salty smells of fear and the spicy taste of the victim’s blood drops on the lips. The Murderer’s hand moved over the white bedsheet like a blind crab seeking the ocean to the sound of dark wings descending.

Helene got up early next morning, had breakfast and headed for the mounds. She still had a couple of days’ work of measuring and evaluating. Her museum was in need of government funds, and publications of any kind helped secure next year’s budget. When she got close to the burial site she saw Parsons perching like a black raven on top of one of the mounds. His book, about detective Max Foxe, had been easy reading. Nevertheless, she did not like the way the author tried to wring sympathy from the reader by rambling on about the single dad policeman and his hard pressed life. Detective Foxe was a boring softie designed to please women readers in their forties. Parsons should have focused on writing a better suspense story. Helene preferred tough old fashioned private detective Philip Marlowe, and cynical Humphrey Bogart in the black and white movie, The Big Sleep.

Helene tried not to frown when she shook hands with the smiling writer after he had scrambled down. Besides, shaking hands was formal enough to create a distance between them. Personal distance made it much easier for her to explain that she was making an evaluation of the Viking graves for the Museum Board. Whether they should excavate the mounds or not. Or whether the entire area should be transformed into a major tourist attraction or not. The archeologist could see the irritation in the author’s brownish eyes.
– Why do people like you take the mystery out of everything? Why must everything be systematized to the last bone fragment? Why not leave such fantastic places like this to the rain, the fog and the fantasy of future generations?  You of all people, the Viking expert, should show a little respect for the long dead! Even if Laura Croft is a grave robber, you don’t have to be one.
– That’s what I am here to evaluate, she answered frosty. He stared at her, but Helene turned away and flung her tools down on the moist ground close to the low semi–closed entrance. She turned the key in the old brass padlock, pushed open the wooden makeshift door and crawled into the waiting dark without looking back. Parsons stood another twenty seconds after she had disappeared into the gloom and left with a disgusted grunt. He could not help admiring the woman. Alone in a tomb with only a headlight and herself. Not his choice of work places.

The murderer did not like the thought of an excavation. The beautiful landscape would be scarred, and the besides, victims from previous years would for certain be found. That…. must under any circumstances be stopped.  But how? The murderer looked at the ocean. A few seconds later a solution grew out of the wind. It was just a matter of timing. The future was decided by precise planning in the present. And, the murderer was the kind of person that made things happen. A wave of forbidden pleasures pulsed through the body as the smell of stagnant brine assaulted the nostrils.

Parsons sat waiting for dinner. He was irritated at himself for letting the archeologist see how angry he had gotten this morning. He had felt desire when he saw the slim figure approaching the mounds. He had wanted her… there and then. He had fantasized about passionate sex by the old graves. Had he spoilt his chances? As if she had read his thoughts Helene came through the dining room door as she was the owner of the inn. To his surprise she went straight to his table with a playful smile.
 – Still angry, Mr. Parsons? Or interested in sharing a superb bottle of wine with me? I choose! You pay? Parsons smiled the best smile he could muster and signaled with his hand towards the chair beside him.
– How about dinner? After my unfortunate outburst, I borrowed the inn’s rubber dinghy and went fishing. I gave my impressive catch to the inn’s chef and he promised me a delicious bouillabaisse.  
– I would love to enjoy a decent dinner with you, Mr. Parsons. Perhaps you could tell me a little bit about your new novel and the terrible ordeals your detective Foxe will go through in his next case? What will you call it? The Viking Mound? But let’s small talk over dinner. How about sharing a tasteful bottle of Chablis? Shades of sea–blue glittered playfully in her eyes.

The next morning was seven shades of grey. Helene contemplated the fog drifting across the landscape and mulled over the evening with the author. An interesting and entertaining man. Full of knowledge, but kind of naive. She had been surprised when she met him in the dining room early in the morning. Well, not exactly surprised, but she was willing to bet that he also had a headache after last night tasteful Premier Cru wines. And besides… She must have made an impression and almost had sex with him. She had left him for her room with an unspoken promise of possible future intimacies.
 –I have slept on what we discussed last night, he had said. – I might have to change my mind regarding the graves. It must be very rewarding to excavate the gold treasures waiting under the stones. I can support your professional recommendations no matter what conclusions you arrive at. However, I need more knowledge about the mounds, their history, and their origins and of cause…. How Vikings sacrificed prisoners and buried gold with their dead chieftains. Perhaps you could be my guide at the test site? We would be undisturbed in the morning fog. There won’t be any tourists today.
   Once more she saw anger in his eyes as she turned down his suggestion. – I have to finish the survey, but how about meeting me a couple of hours before dinner? We can take a close look at some of the more interesting features of the mounds. Then we can walk back to the inn and enjoy another wonderful bouillabaisse. I am sure you can get a plentiful catch even if the waves are turbulent today? A strong man like you should have no trouble handling the dinghy. See you later?

The murderer knew it had to happen that day. The victim was as good as dead, and traces of the upcoming kill had to be hidden in the same area as the other victims. They had to stay hidden under the stones for another thousand years.

Helene had finished the survey and worked for many hours measuring the inside and outside of the mound when she heard the approaching dinghy working hard to fight the increasingly heavy swells. She looked at the small rubber boat going up and down like a drunken yellow rubber duck. The author was a little early, but that was no surprise. Last evening she had seen lust send ripples through his body. He had barely managed to control his amorous approach as he got drunker. He was a man who did not take no for a no, and did his utmost to get what he wanted. The writer aimed the dinghy straight for the place she was standing ready to catch the mooring rope. Helene felt there was something ominous about his approach.

Parsons could not remember last time he had felt so passionate for a woman… And last night he had been so close to get into the archeologist to bed… So close… He jumped ashore while Helene expertly fastened the rope he had tossed her. How beautiful she was. How she fitted the landscape. A blond Valkyrie. He longed to caress her face and feel her perfect skin.
– Are you planning to start your own mound, he said with a smile as Helene pulled the dinghy on shore. Her perfect smile showed that she was warming up to his natural charm.
– Ha–ha! Very funny, she answered. – I need to know how many archology students I will need to move stones and eventually prepare for a full excavation in the years to come. Have a look at this narrow entrance into the smallest mound. I have to crawl to get to the interesting stuff. My students constructed the entrance and a tunnel last summer as part of their master degrees. I wanted to write a paper on an insertion approach instead of the top–down approach to mound excavations.  However, approaches working in South–American pyramids’ do not work well on grave mounds in Europe. Would you like to have a look inside?

The murderer saw of how perfect the bits of the puzzle seemed fall in place. The time had come. The inside of the mound would be the perfect hiding place. It would just be a matter of collapsing the tunnel over the body.

Helene pulled open the makeshift door and crawled into the tunnel. – Come on, Parsons! Don’t be afraid of long dead skeletons. Crawl in and have a look at what we have found so far. Now you have a chance to get hands on information on Viking burial customs for your new book. I’ll even show you a few half buried artifacts. Nothing like real life for inspirational writing, you know.

Parsons knew that the invitation to join her was the key to future pleasures and hands on her body were exactly what he needed. The nearness and pleasant smell of the archeologist would only add to the excitement of being in something as unusual as a Viking mound. The narrow tunnel opened into a small chamber and the light from Helene’s headlamp cast a steady white led–light on the makeshift wooden structure. Parsons could think of nicer places to be with a beautiful woman, but when she touched his neck to get his attention, it was like getting an electrical jolt.
– You know, she said with a shy smile. – I do like you and your books. I do want to get to know you better. But, I have needs…  Romantic needs in special surroundings, if you see what I mean?
   Parsons answered by letting his hand glide up her back towards her neck. This was much more exiting that he ever had thought possible. His excitement grew when she responded by pressing closer and slowly turning her face towards his. Her lips opened… Inviting a kiss as he felt a tickling of her fingers behind his left ear.
– First a kiss and then… he thought as the thin, age old Viking pin penetrated the skin behind the ear and into his brain. The perfect thrust. Helene pulled him close and stared into his dimming eyes. She gave him a tender kiss as she felt life leave him. She had never been so close to any of the other men she had killed. The arousal and reaction were fitting a mortal Valkyrie and the pleasures faded slowly in a warm glow.

The archaeologist let the headlight shine at the many bone fragments of the thralls and servants that had been forced to follow the dead Viking chief to Valhalla. Parsons was going to rest in peace in good company, she mused, crawling out of the mound. Outside she pulled hard on the rope that collapsed the timber structure. - A pity, she thought. This site would have been the perfect tourist site. Thousands of people would have learned more about the Viking Age. The gold artifacts would also rest in peace together with the dead. Her report and recommendation would strongly advice against any kind of excavations. The cost would be immense and she would also stress that the mounds should remain unopened for future generations of archeologists.
   Helene tossed the splintered remains of door into the water and checked that the entrance was blocked with big enough stones to stop amateur grave robbers. Then she loosened the mooring rope and watched the receding tidewater carry the rubber dinghy out of sight. The grey day had brought more than she ever could have wished for.

That evening, when she was sitting alone with her after dinner coffee the landlady told her with tears in her eyes that the dinghy was found drifting far from land without the writer onboard. He was presumed drowned in heavy seas and the Sea–rescue had stopped looking for the body.
 – When shall strong men learn to wear a life jacket? she exclaimed almost accusingly. Helene put on her best smile, as was proper for such occasions.
 – What a shame, she said. – He was such a knowledgeable man.

The next morning Helene enjoyed the Inn’s excellent breakfast. She replayed the moment of death time and time again. Thoughts about the decomposing writer, now resting on top of the brittle bones of the long dead, gave her a warm feeling. She was quite sure that she would come back next year. A few days in this open landscape made her breathe freer.

tirsdag 7. mars 2017

The Zen of Terry Pratchett on the Value of Gold

But, what’s worth more than gold? Practically everything. You, for example.
Gold is heavy. Your weight in gold is not much gold at all.
Aren’t you worth more than that?

mandag 6. mars 2017

The Twenty-Four Carat Moon

The Earth’s moon is a rock and mineral matrix. In the Scrooge McDuck story
The Twenty-Four Carat Moon the moon behind the Moon is pure gold.

In many stories Scrooge, Donald and the boys have been treasure hunting. However, this moon seems to represent the biggest treasure they are going to hunt for. Scrooge desires it most strongly.

Back on Earth
On Earth, the gold dug out and now above the ground could be formed into a cube close to 70 feet, or 21 meters on each side. This cube would have a weight of 175 000 tons. Gold miners must sift through 35 tons of stone, sand silt and earth for every ounce (31,103 gram) they find. The US Geological Survey estimates that there are still 50 000 tons of minable gold in the ground, but the climate cost is going to be astronomical if the coveted metal is ever dug up.

The Moon behind the Moon
The twenty-four carat gold-moon is 800 kilometers in diameter, and if the math is correct, the metric answer is 5.174E + 21 kg gold. In other words: The volume of the moon is
268083 000000000000 m3. The density of gold is 193000 kg/m3. That means that the mass
is 5174000000000000000000 kilo. These figures make Scrooge drool when he is calculating the moons value:

- That much gold in dollars would be two hundred and seventy-seven untouchaba-trillions, six hundered and six uncomprehendabalillions, two hundred and eighty-eight fantasticatillions- .

Scrooge is going to be richer than he ever imagined in his wildest dreams. He thinks! However, the old duck has been kissed by Mrs. Dementia. He has forgotten the lesson he learned in the story A Financial Fable. Too much of something valuable makes it less valuable – or possibly valueless.

More is Less
Given Scrooge manage to overcome the technical challenges of transporting even a fraction of the moon-gold back to Earth, the metal is going to lose its monetary value the moment it reaches the Earth’s surface. Millions of tons of extraterrestrial gold would saturate the commodity market on Earth. Since gold as a metal has little practical use, Gold would become cheaper than iron. The multibillion London online trade would cease to exist, and 100 million people in the gold business would be out of work.

The Illusion of Value
Anyway, The Twenty-Four Carat Moon story is meant to entertain and educate. Carl Barks often drew on real life situations. Scrooge is as an insatiable capitalist, who must always have more, more, more. The superrich duck mirrors the one percent superrich people in our world who are controlling most of the world’s resources. The superrich do not want to share even if they have more money than they possibly can spend in a thousand years. They just want to keep the money because it is theirs to keep. The catastrophic results of this mentality, this unwillingness to put their money into worthwhile projects, we see all over the world.

A Poor Country
A seemingly rich country like the USA has not been able to get rid of its slums. The country does not have free health care for the whole population, and the young have not the right to free education. True riches, true values for a better future are still an unreachable dream in the land of the free. Gold is an illusion of wealth, dross made valuable. The one percent has not understood Charles Dickens classic novel about miser Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol.

torsdag 2. mars 2017

Penger, sølv og gull

På 1800 tallet ble sølv benyttet som et sikkert anker mot papirpengenes verdi. Folket kunne bytte dem mot sølv. I dag undergraver Norges Bank tilliten til penger gjennom sin inflasjonspolitikk.

Krona synker i verdi
I 2017 er Den norske krone ikke forankret i noe som helst. Den faller ca. tre prosent i verdi hvert år. Den synkende pengeverdien gjør at folk som har formue flytter den over til eiendom og gull. Norges Banks ledelse har sin egen agenda for norsk økonomi, og Tilbakeblikk på norsk pengehistorie  speiler det som vil skje med pengene dine. Den anbefales med tanke på investering i sølv og gull.

Pengenes ulike roller
Avregningsenhet
Pengeenheten gjør det mulig å holde oversikt over fordrings- og gjeldsforhold i økonomien. Verdien av varer, tjenester og eiendeler uttrykkes i pengeenheter som aktørene i økonomien har kunnskap om og tillit til. Idag er pengeenheten krone, mens pengeenhetene man måtte forholde seg til tidlig på 1800-tallet, var henholdsvis riksdaler courant, riksbankdaler og speciedaler.
Betalingsmiddel
Penger brukes som instrument ved oppgjør mellom parter i økonomiske transaksjoner. Betalingsoppgjør skjer ved at det overføres betalingsmidler mellom partene. Sedler og mynt omtales som lovlige eller frigjørende betalingsmidler, siden debitorer kan kreve å innfri sin gjeld ved hjelp av disse. For at penger skal fungere som transaksjonsmiddel, må de være tilgjengelige og aktørene i økonomien må ha tillit til dem.
Verdioppbevaringsmiddel
Penger brukes også som verdioppbevaringsmiddel. Anekdotiske eksempler er “sølvpenger på kistebunnen”, “sedler i madrassen” eller “penger i banken”. For at penger skal fungere som verdioppbevaringsmiddel, må aktørene ha tillit til at pengenes verdi blir opprettholdt over tid. Men det er lett å finne eksempler der tilliten til pengenes verdi er blitt undergravet.
   Under metallmyntstandard vil utmynting med for lavt metallinnhold ødelegge tilliten til myntene fordi det i praksis vil være vanskelig å skille god og dårlig mynt fra hverandre.
   Under papirmyntstandard vil overdreven bruk av seddelpressen undergrave tilliten til pengesedlene på grunn av inflasjon. Penger som faller i verdi på denne måten mister tillit, og aktørene vil forsøke å unngå dem ved å flytte formuen til andre formuesobjekter.
Tilbakeblikk på norske pengehistorie av Øyvind Eitrheim og Jan F. Quigstad (red.)