The dismal science was never meant to be this funny. Adam Smith, the man who wrote the book on economics, literally, before anyone thought of it as a discipline capable of so many people employing so many theories to create so little understanding. If anyone is up to the task of rescuing such a book from the clutches of the men with slide rules it is America's foremost living humourist. His previous works on US politics (Parliament of Whores), US foreign policy (Give War A Chance), business (CEO Of the Sofa ) and his previous work on economics (Eat the Rich) and the peculiarities of life in exotic locales (Holidays in Hell) are all bestsellers. Combined with his magazine writing, ranging from Rolling Stone to Vanity Fair to Harper's, he has carved out a unique role in American letters.
O'Rourke's take on outsourcing bears repeating: "Some jobs require protection, to ensure they are performed locally in their own communities. My job is to make quips, jests, and waggish comments.
Somewhere in Mumbai there is a younger, funnier person who is willing to work for less. My job could be outsourced to him. But he could make any joke he wanted. Who would my wife scold? Who would my in-laws be offended by? Who would my friends shun?"
Or on the emergence of the service economy: "Later economists, such as, in the early nineteenth century, J. B. Say, felt that Smith undervalued the economic contributions of services. And he did. The eighteenth century had servants, not a service economy. It was hard for a man of that era to believe that the semiinebriated footman and the blowzy scullery maid would evolve into, well, the stoned pizza delivery boy and the girl behind the checkout counter with an earring in her tongue."
If you read one book about Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations this year. . .
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