Velociworld

Clientelism and the Naked Ape

My unborn grandchildren will in all likelihood look back upon the passage of this so-called stimulus bill as the tipping point when capitalist America became the Plutocratic States of America. That sad moment when the mythological Shining City on a Hill became an economically spastic failed state, with the traditional lines separating bureaucrat from capitalist merged to become an unidentifiable mass of oligarchs.

There is no economic stimulation in this execrable plundering of the public weal. It is, actually, no more or less than what it appears to be: a gargantuan and shameless involuntary transfer of the private assets of John Q. Buttfucked to the sinister Machiavels who bestride the Rogue State, bit barely in its thrashing jaws. It is what the leftists have always dreamed of: the harmonic convergence of crisis, despair, and befuddlement that will allow the muscled arm of l'etat to exercise a great vast mugging of the American people. Control of both houses of Congress, a megalomaniacal president with delusions of grandeur, propped upon his throne like a bollixed Joseph II by a press simultaneously worshipful and perfidious. Abetted by a formerly loyal opposition brought low by their own avaricious weaknesses, and a cohort of instant gratification baby boomer financiers bereft of all decency, reason, and fiduciary constraint.

Let us gaze upon our immediate future: the stimulus package is not an $800 billion jolt meant to defibrillate the heart of the American economy; it is a greasy mafiosi-style payoff to the bequeathers' collective patrons, from community outreach organizers to eco-terrorists to pork barrel profiteers to failure-sodden currency manipulators to public works defalcators. T'would be better in my estimation to give every man, woman, and child (and, yes, morphodite) in the country a check for $2500, and see how quickly the economy was stimulated. Even when a large percentage of the population frittered the money on extravagances like paying off credit card debt, or purchasing mail-order Ukranian brides, the economy would reply like one does after a sweet soft kiss in the ear.

It is a given that printing large bundles of cash by any government will only create massive debt and devalue the currency. We call this the Mugabe Rule. Even the window lickers get that. The truly risible part of the cornholing is the conveyance of this largesse into the hands of the fucking knaves responsible for our misfortune in the first place. There is a term for giving good money after bad: enabling. So, as the fast-buck artists of Wall Street failed and fucked their clientele, so shall we reward them. No issue of remorse or correcting the model. The only issue thus far is the half a million cap on executive salaries, and the wail of the banshee on this point is disgusting. The only thing more putrid than the greed of the boomer elitists is their lack of history. They act as if they are the first people in history to strike a Mephistophilian bargain, only to be impaled by the conditions. The Devil always exacts his due, you fucking twats. And as one devil to another you should consider it professional courtesy betwixt the damned.

And to industry in general: this is truly a case of the producers in manufacturing and processing versus the financiers and speculators and arbitrageurs and private asset manipulators and hedgers and derivateurs. The speculators were able to finesse the traditional corporate geniuses because the genuises were so engrossed in their exponentially increasing worth via bonuses and options lavished by circlejerk board directors that they didn't care how ridiculously valued their debt instruments were. Sure, there were imperious greedheads in the Greatest Generation, but in the last 20 years every swinging dick above middle management came to believe he or she was the current embodiment of the Gilded Age. I despise my generation for that, and for the ready leap to self-aggrandizement one often saw in the mediocre upon the lucky windfall of profit from serendipitous source.

The Senator often told me If it's too good to be true, boy, it probably is. Of course, he'd never seen a trillion dollar bailout bill, either.

Well, it shall all sort itself out. After our government caesars become the majority shareholders in a statistically significant sample of the nation's economy, and Main Street has collapsed due to the benign neglect of their superiors, we'll all sit around eighteen to a hovel and run our fingers around the rim of the expired Nutro can of Soylent Samoyed and utter nervous laughs about our earlier silly fears of a command and control economy.

Did I mention taxes? They'll be going up. Way up. At the pump. At the market. FICA. Payroll. Sales. Ad valorems. Do you think it's cheap destroying and rebuilding, you selfish cocksucker? You print a trillion dollars, you got some fucking overhead, Dick. Interest, mostly. And vigorish. A lotta vig. So get on board. The train is leaving the station, and one would not want to be left behind. With the dead.

A bleak scenario? Possibly. Then again, the glass I envision is half full of single malt Scotch, so that colours me an optimist. It's the other half of the glass, the hemlock, I'll probably hold my nose aswallowing.