Showing posts with label Economic apocalypse; Obama the Blessed. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Economic apocalypse; Obama the Blessed. Show all posts

Saturday, April 11, 2009

"Mo' Money," Less Wealth (Second update 4/14)



















You get mo' money from the Gub-MINT! Whiz and Ice, key economic advisers to the Obama regime (as well as its predecessor).


In comoedia veritas est.

In comedy, the truth is found.



As a 23-year-old "social organizer" in Chicago, Barrack Obama had an encounter that should have changed the way he looked at politics, were he in the habit of serious reflective thought.


Deployed as an Alinskyite "change agent" to Chicago's South Side, Obama made the acquaintance of a redoubtable woman identified as "Sadie" in his first memoir, Dreams of My Father. Sadie is described as one of Obama's "staunchest supporters" during his street-level work in pursuing what he calls "redistributive change."


Sadie, like many other poor residents of Chicago's inner city, wanted to believe in the gospel of statist wealth redistribution, but was somewhat weary of the way her grievances were being leveraged by those in charge of Chicago's political spoils system.


So it likely was with a mixture of affection and despair that Sadie informed the eager and youthful future president: "Ain't nothing gonna change, Mr. Obama. We just gonna concentrate on saving our money so we can move outta here as fast as we can."


Now, if Obama had been blessed with an insightful older mentor -- say, the equivalent of Sean Connery's wizened Chicago beat cop Jimmy Malone from The Untouchables -- that stern but kindly sage would have italicized the meaning of that moment (in a voice flavored with an endearing, albeit ethnically dubious, Caledonian brogue, of course):


"Barry, my boy, the key to real change and upward mobility is not to seize the earnings of the industrious and thrifty and lavish them on the corrupt and profligate. It's to let people keep what they earn and use it to make life better for themselves and their children. That's not The Chicago Way -- but it is what we used to call The American Way. Here endeth the lesson."


But, as Charles Glass documents in a terrific overview of Obama's gestational years in the womb of the Chicago Machine, the would-be world-saver was both ideologically tone-deaf to the significance of such moments, and too beholden to the crass political establishment in the Big Onion, to change his trajectory.


And now that he's president, Obama -- acting on behalf of the entrenched kleptocratic clique in control of our economy -- is seeking to consummate "redistributive change" on a national basis by making it impossible for "Sadies" anywhere in the country to save what they earn and improve their circumstances.


To understand how this works, it's useful to turn to the oeuvre of
the Wayans Brothers, producers of the early 1990s sketch comedy program In Living Color -- a program entirely uninhibited by politically correct etiquette.


Perhaps by virtue of their status as fully accredited minorities, they had what Seinfeld referred to as "total joke immunity"; this permitted them to examine, often in terms that would have made Rabelais blush, the comic-rich foibles of inner-city personality types. (Granted, the Wayans Brothers also inflicted Jim Carrey on the rest of us, and there are some things that simply cannot be forgiven.)


Not all of the Wayans Brothers' targets were treated scornfully. One recurring sketch featured
the Hedleys, the "hardest-working West Indian family" in the country. In this small but very energetic Jamaican household it is considered a stain on the family honor for someone to be working for fewer than a half-dozen employers. A man is judged by the number of jobs he can juggle simultaneously. Even toddlers are required to seek paying work as soon as they develop marketable motor skills.


The Hedleys' catchphrase -- which is the defining feature of recurring sketch comedy -- is: "Hey, mon'-- I gotta go to work!"


One installment find the older daughter aglow over the prospect of her date with a new beau, a wonderful man who makes more than $100,000 a year. That radiance quickly disappears however, when her prospects are occluded by parental disapproval; you see, her boyfriend is a doctor, which means that he only has one job.


At the other end of the spectrum from the eccentric but admirable Hedleys we find "Whiz" and "Ice," a pair of
petty crooks from the Hip-Hop anti-culture who consider themselves entrepreneurs and wealth-building consultants.


Where the immigrant Hedleys speak with a pronounced accent but precise, intelligible diction, the native-born Whiz and Ice converse in a patois -- sub-Ebonics-level English punctuated with spastic hand gestures -- that is perhaps a step above primal grunts and simian territorial antics. And while the Hedleys are busy earning money, Whiz and Ice are constantly exploring new ways to steal it. Their catchphrase will become quite obvious anon.


In the classic sketch depicting the "Homeboy Financial Seminar," Whiz and Ice peddle their new booklet, "How to Make MO' Money, Without Using YO' Money."


"Now, you might ask, `Whose money should I use?'" says Ice as he winds up for the sales pitch. "Well, who got mo' money than they know what to do wid'?"


"Da gub-MENT!" chimes in Whiz on cue.


With the practiced confidence of people who have lived their own advice, Ice and Whiz then give step-by-step instructions on how to use the Food Stamp program to leverage a six-pack of beer that costs $3.99 ("or even less, dependin' on the security system!" Whiz points out) into a $25 profit.


"Mo' money, mo' money, MO' MONEY!" they exclaim.


They then present a few videotaped testimonials from people who have worked their program successfully -- such as Anton "Boom-Boom" Geno, who made $45,000 in three weeks (before being locked away for 5-8 years); or Luther "Bighead" Jones, who scooped up $123,000 in six months (before being shot resisting arrest).


Whiz and Ice are creatures of pure consumption; they merely take and spend. The Hedleys are a caricature of upwardly mobile immigrants; all they do is work and save.


There is nothing new in this contrast; it's as old as Aesop's parable of the grasshopper and the ants. And, as the Wayans Brothers almost certainly understood as they created the characters, the allotment of such disparate character traits has nothing to do with melanin content or ethnicity (although culture undoubtedly plays a significant role).


Where industry and time preference are concerned, the Hedleys could have been immigrants from Korea, Latin America, India, the Pale of Settlement; they could have been 19th-Century sodbusters or 21st-century information entrepreneurs.


As for Whiz and Ice -- well, they could be considered creatures from the collective Id of post-Bubble Wall Street.


The difference between the small-scale scam described in the "Homeboy Financial Seminar" and the more exotic species of fraud that prospered during the most recent Federal Reserve-engineered boom is entirely a matter of scale.


The securitized debts peddled by the likes of Goldman Sachs were a bit like a street hustler's "flash roll" -- an apparently impressive wad of cash that turns out to be a single large-denomination bill wrapped around a handful of fives and ones with a large core of blank paper sheets. The chief difference between a "flash roll" and a Collateralized Debt Obligation, for example, is that the latter is trash all the way through.


In a larger and more uncomfortable sense, however, Whiz and Ice symbolize our entire debt-based consumer economy since August 1971, when the dollar became a pure fiat currency.


America's Empire of Debt, wrote William Bonner and Addison Wiggin in the indispensable book of that title (published on the eve of the unfolding financial melt-down) is "a vainglorious system of conceit, deceit, debt, and delusion.... Americans believe they can get rich by spending someone else's money.... They believe that foreign countries actually want to be invaded and taken over. They believe they can run up debt forever, and that their debt-laden houses are as good as money in the bank."


Or, to summarize the matter in a single pithy phrase, the entire system is based on the idea of "gettin' MO' money, wid-out usin' YO money."


One would think that the bloody debacles in Afghanistan and Iraq would disabuse Americans of the notion that other countries are simply aching to be invaded and occupied by the U.S. military. In similar fashion, one would think that the deepening horrors of our debt-based financial system would cause people to repent of the delusion that one can borrow his way to prosperity.


One would think this is the case. One would be wrong.















I'm tempted to say that the third eye is for "Inflation."
(Sorry.)


Witness the unedifying spectacle of Barrack Obama peddling his administration's new subsidized mortgage refinancing program (no equity required, as long as your mortgage is backed by one of those twin exemplars of fiscal rectitude, Fannie Mae or Freddie Mac) with the unctuous pseudo-sincerity of a late-night infomercial pitchman.


But this is just one relatively small example of the Obama regime's grand design for recovery, which is to "rescue" the economy by confiscating -- through taxation or inflation -- all the wealth earned by the Hedleys and delivering it into the hands of the Whizzes and Ices of Wall Street.


How is this to be accomplished?


Simple:


Mo' money, mo' money, MO' MONEY! -- that is, the Federal Reserve's officially sanctioned counterfeit of the same.

How is the Zimbabwean dollar superior to our own official fiat scrip? It's a multi-colored currency, which means that it can at least serve a decorative purpose.


Since last September, the Treasury Department and Federal Reserve have spent, lent, or issued loan guarantees totaling $12.98 trillion. Last year’s Gross Domestic Product was $14.2 trillion.


This means that the Treasury and Fed, in order to service their Wall Street seraglio, have siphoned away the equivalent of nearly the entire U.S. economy.


In terms individualized impact, this exercise in corporate communism will cost $42,105 for every living American. (Of course, that computation doesn't take into account the disparate impact those costs will have on the productive "Hedleys" versus the parasitical "Whizzes" and "Ices.")


The total amount diverted into the rescue effort is fourteen times the $900 billion in U.S. currency presently in circulation. Monetizing that full amount -- a likely outcome, now that the Fed is buying T-bills -- would have some, ah, interesting social consequences. As the pitiful inhabitants of Zimbabwe can testify, "mo' money" is hardly a blessing when a corrupt government simply emits an endless gusher of value-free paper scrip.


A quick note --


Versions of this document, a purported "Assessment" of "Rightwing Extremism" prepared by the "Extremism and Radicalization Branch" of the Department of Homeland Security," have been circulating in the blogosphere for the past couple of days.

I've been trying to determine whether it is an official document or a decent forgery composed by someone with a perverse sense of humor. Presently, I'm waiting -- most likely in vain -- for some people to respond to telephone inquiries regarding the document and the mysterious DHS "Extremism and Radicalization Branch."

Right now I'm inclined to treat this supposed report as a plausible fiction -- perhaps a sharply written satire.

As soon as I learn anything substantial, I'll certainly pass it along. Keep watching this space.


Second update: It Appears to be Authentic


The Washington Times this morning (April 14), in an article about the same "assessment" document, cited Homeland Security spokeswoman Sara Kuban by way of verifying its authenticity. Kuban describes it as "one in an ongoing series of assessments by the department to `facilitate a greater understanding of the phenomenon of violent radicalization in the U.S."


Ah, the advantages that still accrue to the "old media": I tried at least a half-dozen different ways to solicit a comment from the Homeland Security bureaucracy, and I'm still waiting for my most recent promised call-back.






On sale now.












Dum spiro, pugno!


Wednesday, November 12, 2008

The Good News: It's Not About Race















From the page to the screen: Hawk (Avery Brooks) and Spenser (the late Robert Urich), as portrayed in the television series Spenser: For Hire.


"You know what I like here? There's a bunch of black guys waiting in cars to shoot it up with a bunch of white guys, and it's not about race."


Leave it to Spenser, the irrepressibly sarcastic Private Eye from Robert Parker's durable series of detective novels, to find the ironic humor in a potentially lethal situation.



"Be about power and money, mostly," agreed Spenser's fearsome ally, Hawk, employingthe economical street patois he employed while on the job (and abandoned, when it suited him, when he found himself in refined company).



In this instance, as described near the climax of the 2005 novel Cold Service, the duo was quietly preparing for the first volley in a multi-ethnic gang war in a Massachusetts village called Marshport, the government of which was run by a Ukrainian crime ring controlled by the Mayor-cum-mob capo Boots Podolak.



Hawk's motive was revenge: He had nearly been killed in the ambush arranged by Podolak's men, an attack that claimed the life of a man Hawk was supposed to protect. Spenser's motive was primarily loyalty to his friend and comrade from many previous campaigns.



Some of those who assembled for battle did it for purely mercenary reasons, working as subcontractors for Spenser. Others were simply in pursuit of what most people in such conflicts seek: Control over turf, and the apparatus necessary to exploit it through the creative use of duress. To obtain it, Podolak and his clique had to be removed.



In all of this, as Hawk pointed out, power and money played a much greater role than any atavistic attachment to ethnic or tribal loyalties.



That's
a gun: The Colt Python .357 Magnum, Hawk's preferred instrument of persuasion.
Excuse me while my eyes glaze over with lust.



As the USA careens toward bankruptcy and, perhaps -- hopefully -- some variety of schism, I find myself taking ironic consolation in the fact that the conflict won't be defined by racial or ethnic divisions, despite the best efforts of our rulers to cattle-pen us into such categories.


Granted, this could change very easily. Madame Obama could change her name to Winnie and start hanging around with a murderous "football club." The Holy One Himself (peace be upon him) comes under armed attack by some disposable dimwit with a conveniently conspicuous paper trail through Klan and neo-Nazi groups and a jones for The Catcher in the Rye.



But there's ample reason to believe that the Obamas -- despite their successful shared career in racial shakedown politics and their cynical use of race to make themselves a marketable brand -- aren't interested in pursuing identity politics.



To judge from the composition of the Obama transition team, the Exalted Apostle of Change (we pause to tug on our forelock) is interested in little more than the standard politics of corporatist plunder. Obama's signature touch is to transpose that agenda into the key of cultural Marxism, as opposed to the pious militarism that remains in favor with what remains of the Republican Party.













Oh, yeah, this guy's just
itching to rule:

For the record, there is no such
"office" as "President-Elect" --
and this dude's
not even
officially entitled to call himself
by that title until after the Electoral College casts its votes.



For Obama, the collapse of our financial system was a politically fortuitous event. For reasons that defy rational understanding, the public perceives Obama as a transcendent figure who can cast his gaze upon the turbid markets and command them, "Peace -- be still."



The fact that the markets have reacted to Obama's election with something less than confident relief has yet to register with the True Believers, who likewise remain untroubled by the fact that those whom The One has gathered as his inner circle of disciples include many of the architects of our ever-deepening financial catastrophe.



Rahm Emmanuel, the issue of terrorist loins and one-time servant of an obnoxious foreign power chosen to be Obama's Chief of Staff, made a cool $200 K in 2001 through a sinecure at Freddie Mac; this happened at a time when that government-sponsored entity (GSE) was one of the chief engines inflating the Housing Bubble. Three of Obama's key economic advisers -- Anne Mulcahy, Richard Parsons, and William Daley -- enjoyed similar posts at Fannie Mae.



Clinton-era Treasury Secretary Robert Rubin, another prominent figure in the Obama transition team, was a master chef at cooking the books on behalf of Citigroup and a consulting gourmet for Enron when that company's degenerate corporate elite was looking for just the right recipe to use in swindling its shareholders. And more than a third of the spots on Obama's transition team -- which is a farm club for both ambassadorships and more consequential executive branch posts -- are the most successful "bundlers" of corporate donations to His Holiness's campaign.
















The imperial guard:
Secret Service agents armed with machine guns prepare to swarm a car that ventured too close to the auto carrying the sanctified personage of The One.




Already assuming the mien of a dictator before formally inheriting the mantle of dictatorship, Obama, asserting the suppositious authority of the non-existent "office" of president-elect (a status he won't actually enjoy until after the Electoral College meets next month), Obama "is pushing Congress this year to approve as much as $50 billion to save cash starved U.S. automakers and appoint a czar or board to oversee the companies," according to a Bloomberg report.



This proposed nationalization of the auto industry, which has the support of the Wee Emperor, has been urged upon Obama by two of his key advisers, former Federal Reserve commissar Paul Volcker and former Treasury Secretary Lawrence Summers -- two veterans of the entrenched Establishment Obama supposedly seeks to de-throne.



In defining how Obama will rule, his practical connections to the entrenched corporate socialist oligarchy are much more important than his cultural Marxist background. There is little danger of Obama instigating a proletarian revolution; as John Derbyshire wryly pointed out, Obama can't incite a worker revolt to seize control over the means of production, since all of our factories have already moved to China.



Besides, what's the point of staging a revolution from below to consolidate power in the state, when the Bush administration has already done all of the heavy lifting? The most tangible accomplishment of a generation of Republican rule is the creation of an apparatus of regimentation and wealth redistribution that Lenin would have coveted.


The Commissar in the cowboy hat: Jeb Mason, former flunky to White House political hack Karl Rove, now supervises the delivery of plundered taxpayer "bailout" money to corporations.


There is not a particle of hyperbole in that statement. Witness the observation offered by Jeb Mason, the Treasury Department's liaison to corporate lobbyists seeking a portion of the $700 billion in "bailout" boodle. Under siege by supplicants, Mason, a 32-year-old GOP apparatchik who served under the feculent Karl Rove, commented to a friend: "This must have been how the Politburo felt."



As I've noted before, the mechanism of wealth redistribution from the middle and working classes into the hands of corporate parasites is now fully autonomous: With the Treasury Secretary and the Fed Chairman able to create "money" in any volume they please, and disburse it as they see fit, with no oversight or accountability, Congress really doesn't have a role -- other than that of misdirecting the public.



Those actually in charge of looting the country before its collapse -- whether in the commanding heights, like Comrade Bernanke and Herr Paulson, or in the trenches, like K-Street Pimp Jeb Mason or the Wall Street bagman bearing the deliciously Dickensian name Neel Kashkari -- are entirely unaccountable. From their perspective, the uninitiated have no right so much as to know how much is being spent, let alone for what, and for whose benefit, the sums are being spent.



The $700 billion that raised the public's ire and attracted the attention of corporate lobbyists is merely a small bucket drawn from the immense pool of "liquidity" flowing from the Fed. The ruling economic Triumvirate has actually taken on $5 trillion in liabilities since the financial collapse began last March, and I would be surprised if that figure didn't at least double before Obama, sitting astride his magic unicorn, stages his triumphal entry into the Imperial Capital next January.

Cryogenically cool: "That man Hawk is one baaaaad mutha-" "Shut yo' mouth!" "I'm just talkin' bout Hawk!"



Once again, as Hawk might put it, all of this "be about power and money, mostly," even though the racial aspect of Obama's impending advent is quite useful to the Power Elite that created his campaign, and are eager to exploit him as a human shield.


When The One acts as a conduit for policies created by the same gang of parasites that have ruled our nation for decades, every criticism will be cynically supplied with a spurious racial subtext. This tactic will inspire critics on the left to stifle themselves. It could eventually be used to imprison critics on the right.




On sale now!










Dum spiro, pugno!