Category Archives: Social issues

Why Pro-Profit is Pro-Life: The Market for Bone Marrow

In my last post on profit that I wrote, I said that, “When you outlaw the profit motive, you outlaw one of the very things that makes us human…you further outlaw the source of social cooperation.”

The reality of this debate is very clearly seen in the issue of bone marrow donation (and, by extension, organ donation).  Currently, there is a widespread shortage of bone marrow donors.  This means that there are many people who are dangerously ill and in need of a bone marrow transplant.

However, many of them cannot get one because the government and the medical community stand by an age-old tradition that says people should only donate out of altruism, without any desire for self-gain.

And in the meantime, many of those sick people die.

My question is, all self-righteous pining from the medical community aside: why haven’t we legalized profit for the provision of bone marrow sooner?  The answer of the one doctor in the middle of this video is telling: he doesn’t want to compensate people for bone marrow donation because it would encourage “the wrong motivations,” namely self-gain.

Ok, fine.

Let’s not allow people to profit from selling clothes or food.   Let’s just hope that all of the people that profit from selling things that we would literally die without will make such goods for us out of the goodness of their heart.  After all, it’s immoral to make a profit selling things that people absolutely need, like clothing and food.


This is one of the reasons why I wrote a blog post about the moral goodness and humanity inherent within the idea of profit.  If you deem a good desirable, you don’t outlaw people’s ability to make money off of it. In the case of the markets for bone marrow and organs, relying on benevolence does not save lives.

It actually kills them.


If You Can’t Take the Heat, Get Back in the Kitchen

Not to be offensive or anything, but I don’t like feminists.*  Today, I just experienced a small reason why. A friend of mine on facebook shared a blog article by a self-proclaimed “feminist economist” who praised deficit spending as a “Grrrl’s best friend,” because it stimulates the economy.  One of her points was literally that we can always have as much money as we want because, don’t you know, we have these magical things called bonds! How wonderful is that!  (How often have we heard that line before?)

*An intelligent, competent, reasonable, and respectful woman is great.  It’s just that feminists are generally the opposite of these traits.

I’m not going to link to the post because I’m not a big fan of giving positive SEO signals to search engines for worthless content. However, google “feminist economist grrls best friend” and it’ll be your first hit if you want to read it.

Well, I took issue with this mess of an article for its poor economics and lack of intelligent reasoning. So much so that I again violated the rule that “I should not care if someone is wrong on the Internet.”   I decided to post a lengthy comment that was admittedly opinionated and significantly opposing the viewpoint of the original post, but I figured she’s a feminist economist, so she could take it. And if she’s a good open-minded liberal, I figured my comment would be accepted. There was no profanity, no name-calling, no threats, nothing that could be interpreted as anything but an opinionated presentation of an opposing view.

I mean, if you can’t take the heat…

Anyway, I saved my comment as a precaution just in case it wouldn’t be accepted.  Sure enough, I just checked the post and my comment is gone while a ton of new comments are in.   So, it’s safe to assume that mine is out.

Not to fear.  Here’s my comment re-posted.

For those who think this might be spiteful, it’s really not.  I’m just pointing out the:
A) Horrible reasoning by those who like to advocate deficit spending
B) Inconsistency of the “open-minded” mantra
C) The lack of backbone by this particular feminist…

..who just doesn’t know how to take the heat.


“Here are the facts: U.S. government borrowing creates interest-bearing assets. The bonds are bought with dollars, the interest on them is paid in dollars and, at maturity, the bonds are paid off in dollars. Since the U.S. government is both sovereign in its own currency and the sole issuer of dollars, it can never run out of them. How could it?”

In simple language, it’s called counterfeit money. U.S. government monetary policy is in no way any different from what a counterfeiter would do. If I were to just cut up random bits of paper and say, “Here, use this, it’s worth $100!!!” you’d look at me like I was crazy. But the feds do it and all of a sudden, simply because the feds do it, it turns worthless paper into some form of valuable currency.

Here’s a simple fact: to my knowledge, most (if not all) nations that have introduced paper fiat currency into their economic system have always suffered severe inflationary whiplash afterwards. Of course, these nations introduced paper fiat currency because they wanted to spend more by creating money out of thin air. Well, they accomplished that goal, but it eventually crushed their economy.

I would like to thank the author for pointing out that U.S. infrastructure is failing, specifically bridges,
aviation, and dams. News flash: most of these infrastructure projects are built, maintained, run by, or overseen in some part by the federal government.  If you want to make such projects safer and more cost efficient (but I guess the author doesn’t care about the latter, since it isn’t consistent with a “MAXING OUT MY CREDIT CARDS…LOLZ!” philosophy), then privatize them.

The fundamental error of the author is that she believes that government somehow magically can violate economic and mathematical principles that the rest of us can’t. Another news flash: government is run by humans subject to the same physical and social laws that govern the rest of us. It’s amazing how in a modern society that has long ago left behind such ancient and ridiculous practices as child sacrifice, chants and amulets to ward off evil spirits, mystical oracles, and roaming druid priests, we still chant the hymns of political magic as if we expect to escape mathematical and economic laws by wishing they weren’t there.

Very poorly thought out article.

Special thanks to Shaun Connell of Stand Strong Research for pointing out the existence of this article and joining me in finding it absurd (I figured if I was going to share a link on this post, I’d actually do it to some worthwhile content).

P.S. My long-in-coming “Love Wins” review will hopefully be done this weekend at some point.  Depending on how high-quality it is, it may end up on  my Yahoo Contributor page, but regardless, I will let you know of its existence.

“Mommy!” – A Short Story by Jason Hughey

In response to the Casey Anthony non-guilty verdict, many people are expressing outrage.  I admit to being upset over it as well, but I also must admit that I am not surprised.  Additionally, my anger over this case does not exceed my anger over legalized abortion.

A justice system that legally protects and sanctions the murder of babies inside the womb cannot be expected to deliver just verdicts.  Although it is right to be upset about the Casey Anthony trial as a great injustice, we cannot lose sight of the fact that mothers murder their children by the thousands every day under legal protection.  Based on this precedent, Casey Anthony should’ve been expected to go free all along.

This is the fundamental issue: Casey Anthony, if indeed guilty of this murder, did nothing more than what happens every day legally in abortion clinics.  If you are outraged over this trial, then I must ask you, where has that outrage been every single day when you thought about legalized abortion?

That’s all that I’m going to say from an analytical perspective.  Instead of further analyzing the case, I’m going to re-post a short story that I wrote and posted as a Facebook note years ago.  I trust it will be fresh for many because I have a larger audience of FB friends and online readers than I did then.   For those who have already read it and are willing to read it again, I trust it will have the same (or perhaps even greater) impact.   I will add that there is graphic content in this story and that it’s meant for mature readers.

by Jason Hughey

“Where are we going, mommy?” asked Rachel from the backseat. Her innocent 5-year old face peered curiously out of the car window in an attempt to derive some sort of clue as to the destination point of this trip. She squealed with delight when she saw the pet store with puppies in the window.

“Are we going to the pet store, mommy?” she asked excitedly.

“No, we’re going to the clinic,” Mommy replied. “I’ve made an appointment for you to be seen by the doctor.”

“What’s a doctor, mommy?”

Mommy replied, “A doctor is someone who checks on your health and makes sure you’re ok. He wants to make sure you feel well.”

“But I feel GREAT, mommy,” exclaimed Rachel, making a big gesture with her arms to prove how “great” she felt. Her eyes gleemed as she broke out in a bubbly smile to add to her confidence. Then she added, “Can we go see the puppies?”

“No, sweetie,” replied her mother. “We need to make sure you’re healthy, and the doctor will do that. Derek and I think it’s best for us and for you.”

The little girl’s smile disappeared. She didn’t like Derek. Ever since mommy had called him her “boyfriend,” Derek had done nothing but regard Rachel with disgust. Sometimes when she asked him questions or tried to get him to play with her, he would mutter something like “Stupid kid…” and shoo her away. Rachel didn’t know what he meant, but she knew he didn’t mean nice things when he said it.

A few minutes later, their car pulled into the parking lot of the clinic. Mommy took Rachel’s hand and led her into the reception area. Derek was there and rose to meet them.

“Hey, babe, how you doing?” He casually winked at Rachel’s mother, but looked at Rachel with a smirk. Rachel leaned closer to her mother for security.

“I’m doing ok, Derek. Thanks for being here,” replied Rachel’s mother. But her voice relayed a tone of anxiety and nervousness. It didn’t make Rachel feel comfortable.

Derek casually shrugged. “It’s no problem. Wanted to make sure you went through with the decision and everything. If you really love me, you know, we kinda’ have to do this.”

“I know, I know, and I do think we’ve made the right decision, Derek. Uhh…I’m just…something just is nagging at me and I don’t know what it is. Are you sure we’ve done the right thing?”

“Perfectly sure,” replied Derek. Trust me, you won’t worry like this after it’s over. It’s just a safe, normal procedure.”

“Right, I know, I know…” replied Rachel’s mother.

A door opened and a stern looking nurse stepped into the room. She half spoke, half barked out:

“Rachel Aeron.”

Rachel’s mother got up and grabbed Rachel’s hand. Rachel was beginning to feel scared. She didn’t like the look of the nurse and she didn’t like being dragged towards the door by her mother’s dry, cold hand.

“Is this the little girl?” asked the nurse.

“Yes,” Rachel’s mother said. “She’s ready for the appointment.”

“Excellent. Well, wait out here, Mrs. Aeron. We’ll take care of everything inside,” replied the nurse.

“Thank you,” replied Rachel’s mom.

The nurse took Rachel by the hand and led her to the door. Rachel turned around and looked at her mother with big frightened eyes.

“It’s going to be ok,” said her mommy. “You’ll be fine.”

But her mommy didn’t kiss her, hug her, or even smile when she spoke these words. Her face was pale and her lips quivered. Rachel didn’t like it.

The door closed and the nurse took Rachel into a small room and told her to wait. The doctor would come shortly.

Rachel was very scared now. She looked around the room. There was a table in the middle of it. There was also a sink next to the wall with two cabinets above it. The walls were white and bare.

The door to the room opened and in walked the doctor with the nurse. The doctor’s countenance was even more gloomy than that of his counterpart. They closed the door behind them. The doctor looked at Rachel and gruffly told her to “get on the table.”

Rachel walked to the big table in the middle of the room. But she couldn’t get on top of it. It was too tall for her.

The nurse said, “She’s too short.”

The doctor replied roughly, “I see that. Pick her up and put her on it.”

As the nurse bent down to pick her up, Rachel began to cry. As she was placed on the table, she felt overwhelmed with insecurity looking up at the doctor and nurse menacingly standing over her.

Then the doctor walked over to one of the cabinets. He reached inside and pulled out two objects. The first was a small knife, about 6 inches long. The next object was a longer blade…about 18 inches long.

Rachel’s crying grew to an intense screaming as she saw the knives.

“Hold her still,” said the doctor.

The nurse grabbed Rachel and pinned her back to the table, holding her head so that the front of the neck was exposed. Rachel squirmed and sobbed even more.

“This will just take a second,” the doctor said.

As he grabbed the shorter knife and stood over Rachel at the table, Rachel’s sobbing and screaming intensified to an ear-piercing shriek. Her mother heard it in the lobby.

“Oh, Derek, we didn’t do the right thing! What are they doing to her!?” she screamed.

“Whoa!” Derek replied. “Hold it a sec, this is the toughest part, just sit back and…”

“NO!” she yelled and ran through the door into the hallway.

At the table, the doctor leaned over Rachel with the knife in hand, preparing to slit the throat of the little girl that lay before him. Although the strong nurse held her so firm that she couldn’t move, Rachel suddenly screamed out with all of her might:


“Quiet!” yelled the doctor as he lowered the knife to her throat.

“M-M-MOMMY!” she yelled again through her gasping sobs.

“Do it now!” yelled the nurse.


The door burst open as Rachel’s mother flew into the room. There she froze, sickened at what she saw.

There her daughter lay…once a beautiful, loving, and innocent child, now a mangled body being chopped to pieces by the blade of her killer…at the consent of her mother and the man she called her “boyfriend.” Hacked limbs and blood covered the table in a viscous and gory spectacle.

With one horrific shriek, the dead child’s mother screamed: