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A
great orgasm shuddered through the money world last week when Mario Draghi paused between scamorza
con arugula tidbits to remark that the European Central Bank (ECB) would
stop at nothing to keep the financial blood of Europe circulating. Of course
you wonder how many pony glasses of Campari he knocked back before that
whopper came out. The markets squirmed with glee. I suppose it feels good to
have quantities of smoke blown up your ass.
This
is the last month of the Great Pretending over on that lovely continent of
exquisitely preserved towns and the corniche
winding down to the crashing green sea, and the lunch table under the grape
arbor... I mean, compared to, say, the universal slum vista of tilt-up,
strip-mall America along the deafening highways, with the wig shops, tattoo
dens, pawn shacks, dollar stores, parking lot swap-meets, and supersized
citizens waddling through the greasy 100-degree heat of a new climate regime.
When things blow, as you may be sure they will, at least the Europeans will
sink amid all that loveliness while the American experience will be more like
getting flushed down a toilet.
The
more you reflect on the Draghi remark, the more you
wonder whether absolutely anyone out there is paying attention to the fact
that there is no money backing up these pledges of continued bailouts. All
the major banks of Europe are functionally insolvent and all of the nations
that charter the banks are structurally insolvent, and the economies that
depend on the circulation of funds around this Euro organism really cannot
escape some sort of cascading collapse. The big unknown element of the story
is how angry and batshit crazy the citizens of all
these countries will get when summer ends. I don't believe they will fight
each other just now, but it is very likely that the lampposts of all these
lovely towns and cities will be decorated with swinging corpses of bankers,
ministers, and a choice selection of politicians while a fight over the table
scraps of a 30-year-long debt banquet occupies the folks in the streets.
Over
on this side of the Atlantic, the question arises: where are the good guys?
Why is there not one national political figure in the USA who has a
comfortable relationship with truth? Perhaps the elimination of truth in our
banking and governing affairs is so complete now that there is no truth left
to have a relationship with. Or perhaps no American person of integrity
believes in the system enough to defend it. Which raises the corollary
question: where are the brave persons who would oppose this baleful culture
of lies, swindles, and rackets?
I
never tire of reminding readers that life is tragic. Individuals and groups
in societies make bad choices or fail to meet a challenge that history
presents. When persons fail, events take over and lead all persons where
events will. Hence, events will take over the election clown show between an
errand boy and a horse's ass. The distracted, degenerate public of tattooed
soccer moms and men wearing baby clothes have no idea how quickly the
supermarket shelves can go empty. The banking system is headed over Niagara
Falls and it will take all our comforts and conveniences with it as it goes
over.
Generally
people prefer order over chaos, so don't be too surprised if some general in
the Pentagon reluctantly decides that there is no choice but to step in and
become the government. This would be an awful and momentous thing in our
history, but it is exactly what we've asked for with our pornographic
politics of lying, grifting, swindling, and racketeering. What I describe, of
course, is the flip-side of martial law. Once civilians declare it, things
have a tendency to get martial real fast - meaning that the feckless and
hesitant civilians who allowed the situation to develop get swept out of the
way in favor of anyone who can get something done. And what will have to get
done in short order is the reorganization of a banking system to get money
flowing again and the reopening of supply lines for food and medicine in
particular.
This
is not an outcome I promote, you understand, but it is the scenario that a
foolish people in a depraved nation are sleepwalking into. Take away the
pizza pockets and the Pepsi and anything can happen. We may even live to see
Mitch McConnell roasted on a spit in some Kentucky parking lot.
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