за ширмой
20:09 | 24-03-2011 | Economics, Lifeform, Story | No Comments
еще немного о формах жизни — на этот раз почти из учебника по экономике:
Leeds’ ownership structure came under scrutiny at the Culture, Media and Sport Select Committee’s inquiry into football governance, in a hearing at Burnley FC. Shaun Harvey, Leeds’ chief executive, said the club was owned by a holding company called FSF, based in the West Indies island of Nevis, and owned by three discretionary trusts. The trustees have appointed Patrick Murrin and Peter Boatman to run the club and they had asked Bates to be chairman.
Harvey told the committee: “I don’t know who the beneficiaries of this discretionary trust are, no.” Asked if Bates knew, he replied: “Not to my knowledge. There is no individual [owner], that’s the nature of discretionary trusts – it’s a perfectly legal and much used ownership structure in many different industries, not just football.”
One MP, Damian Collins, queried whether that was a healthy state of affairs, saying: “With a club like Leeds United the majority shareholding is owned by a mysterious trust and we don’t know who the investors are and I think that is a legitimate concern.”
и ведь ясно же, да, какие именно натянутые параллели я хочу провести?
“<...> You saw a double. A hologram perhaps. Many things, Marly, are perpetrated in my name. Aspects of my wealth have become autonomous, by degrees; at times they even war with one I another. Rebellion in the fiscal extremities.”
<...>
“Forgive me,” she found herself saying, to her horror, “but I understood you to say that you live in a vat?”
“Yes, Marly. And from that rather terminal perspective, I should advise you to strive to live hourly in your own flesh. Not in the past, if you understand me. I speak as one who can no longer tolerate that simple state, the cells of my body having opted for the quixotic pursuit of individual careers. I imagine that a more fortunate man, or a poorer one, would have been allowed to die at last, or be coded at the core of some bit of hardware. But I seem constrained, by a byzantine net of circumstance that requires, I understand, something like a tenth of my annual income. Making me, I suppose, the world’s most expensive invalid.