I graduated from Boston College with a degree in economics. My grade average was a little better than a C- and accordingly my work experience has never tapped on whatever knowledge I ignored during classes with Robert B. Samuelson, now a contributor to Newsweek Magazine, yet my mind responds freely to any stimuli about the ebb and flow of economics due to my understanding that money, not love, rules the world and right now not many people have cash on hand, despite 8 years of GW Bush’s hoodoo-voodoo trickle-down economics.
Money has levitated upward to the mega-rich in the billions faster than they can spend it. The GOP wants to keep the tax breaks for the rich, saying money is better managed by the rich, while the Democrats are ready to let the Bush tax breaks lapsed in 2010 to refill the federal coffers and pay down the trillions of debt accrued by our president, who when he said, “Bring it on.” wasn’t talking about the bill for the war of terrorism.
Congress is at a stalemate and the president is conniving how to attack Iran to guarantee his 3rd term of office. 22 million Americans bought his con game about owning a house and half those are being strangled by flipped mortgages. The banks are fucking everyone in order to black their red and as a banker I met of the beach the other day said, “There isn’t any bottom in this market yet.”
No brakes. No one at the helm and no rescue in sight.
And this problem extends around the world.
So what can we do?
Cut spending thereby shrinking demand and screwing manufacturers who want to sell us stuff we don’t really need like potato chips and Denali SUVs.
China and India are fucked too.
They built up their countries to supply the West with shitty products to give the retailers insane profits.
Opps.
No brakes.
Where is the bottom?
I asked that on a financier at Bice in Palm Beach and he said, “If you are looking for the bottom then you see the up.”
“And what’s the up?”
“Sugar cane ethanol from Cuba.” He spoke these words in a whisper. “Ethanol from sugar packs 8 times the bang as corn ethanol.”
“What about the Cuban in Miami?”
“Fuck ’em. No one gets to the up without someone holding the down.”
He went over to talk to a botox blonde I wouldn’t have sex with unless I was on ludes. I left in my banged-up Benz. It was running on fumes. I have $10 min my pocket and I’m living in a mansion. No bills. No rent. Two liters on rum in the kitchen. What me worry?
Let the rich spend their money like drunks before the end of the world.
Te moritum salutem.
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