So, Ben Bernanke comes on 60 Minutes and says that maybe the recession will be over in 2009. Where does this guy get off for saying something like this? He has nothing to stand on. He’s got to say something, or it’ll look like the government hasn’t a clue about what’s happening. They have to make predictions, otherwise it’s just the fear of the void. And the void is not pretty. But that’s what we’re all staring at.

The market is responding, and cratering, to the idea that a significant portion of these mortgages are going to fail despite there being not that much evidence to support this theory. Yes, a lot of people are failing to pay their mortgages today, but we don’t know about tomorrow at all, so what sort of percentage are going to be able to pay in 2010? Nobody knows, and the market is assuming a large percentage. Yet every time the market assumes a lot of people are going to be foreclosed on, that drives the market downward, because the stocks for the banks hit bottom. That leads to all the companies that actually produce something to get flushed down the toilet as well. Once that happens, these companies start slashing jobs because their expenses are too high, considering that they now don’t expect anyone to buy their products because nobody can get any loans from the banks that have all failed. Then people get fired and they can’t pay their mortgages. Then the market goes down more.

I guess my point is none of these guys, like Bernanke or Bush or Paulson or Geithner or Obama, really have any clue how far the economy is going to go into the gutter. And as far as pessimism goes, have we reached bottom? No, because people keep predicting, yeah, we’re pulling out of this thing. People are worrying about other things, like Afghanistan and Prop 8 and snuggies. These people are just deluding themselves until they lose their jobs. No, we haven’t reached bottom, nowhere near.

The worst part every day for me is also the most selfish. I don’t know how I can help. I can keep doing the work I do, but it’s only adding a tiny fraction of product into the world, and the world would be just fine with a couple fewer press releases about Mexican resorts, I promise you. It’s all about me, and how I’m adding nothing to this country and its imminent economic collapse.

Stay warm…

9:30 am EST: Market immediately heads into a nosedive. Asleep.

10 am EST: Market continues to head into the pits. Asleep.

10:30 am EST: I wake up to hear the market is crashing. Fear mixes with dread. Then NPR launches into a long report about how police have discovered dozens and dozens of dead bodies scattered throughout Tijuana. The bodies are found in schools, half buried, on the sidewalk – basically anywhere where there’s a flat surface. Many bodies are shot in the face, or simply beheaded. I breathe a sigh of relief and go back to sleep.

11 am EST: The market is imploding, going under 10,000 for the first time in five years. I expect people will probably start jumping out of windows at this point. Sadly, I live in a two-storey building so nobody would die here. I continue to sleep.

12 pm EST: The market briefly recovers. Blogs are published across the net, offering new advice and more hate toward the bailout program. I drink tea.

1 pm EST: I get to work. I feet my cat. I log onto LOZcat for fun.

2 pm EST: The market keeps falling and so does gas prices. Since I don’t have a car, a job to go to, any savings, any financial security, a need for loans, at-work healthcare, medical expenses, or even a retirement account of any sort, I still don’t care. I drink my second cup of tea, which is often the worst of the three I usually indulge in on any given morning.

3 pm EST: The market falls under 9600. Pacemakers all skip a beat. Old people start rioting in the streets. Social Security anthropomorphizes and throws a flag through Paulson’s chest. NPR is discussing Prop 7, which involves solar power. I tune out in favor of peanut butter and honey.

5 pm EST: I don’t notice two hours going by. I have my third cup of tea. Much better. The market is closed. Wow, what a day.

Originally Posted on The Huffington Post:

Friday was International Talk Like A Pirate Day, in case you hadn’t noticed. Everyone’s getting into the act, even Google, as they unveiled a “pirate slang” version of their home page. But no one, not even Google, could compete with the pirate-talk of Treasury Secretary Henry M. Paulson Jr.

In his press conference today addressing the bailouts of major financial institutions on Wall Street, Paulson donned his eye-patch, shouldered his sword, and doffed his best pirate cap:

“I am convinced that this bold approach will cost American families far less than the alternative – a continuing series of financial institution failures and frozen credit markets unable to fund economic expansion.” Arr.

“These illiquid assets are clogging up our financial system, and undermining the strength of our otherwise sound financial institutions. As a result, Americans’ personal savings are threatened, and the ability of consumers and businesses to borrow and finance spending, investment, and job creation has been disrupted.” Avast, me matey.

“We’re talking hundreds of billions.” What foul-smelling grog.

No offense, Mr. Paulson, but the $600 billion tab, according to estimates from the AP, you’re handing US taxpayers is official, state-sanctioned piracy. You’ve threatened us with your sword of economic catastrophe, taken our taxpayer treasure, and handed it to the same pirates and thieves that got us into this mess.

We have no recourse. We can’t say, “Hey, Mr. Government, would you mind spending those $600 billion on roads, safe bridges, green energy infrastructure, and education? No? Ah.” Well, we can, but it won’t amount to beans. We have been keelhauled by our own government, laying the risk-averse American public – those people who can’t afford to invest more than the $100,000 the FDIC insures – with all the responsibility of decades of capitalistic piracy.

So, please, spare us the pirate talk. My parrot could do better.

Obviously, these are incredibly sophisticated economic problems. But that doesn’t mean the Treasury’s solution isn’t criminally wrong. A friend recently compared the bailout to the myth of Daedalus. An inventor of great things, Daedalus built wax wings for him and his son, Icarus, to escape a prison island. Icarus, however, kept flying higher and higher, his ambition too great, and came so close to the sun that the wax melted and he plummeted to his death in the ocean. This myth is meant to teach us wisdom, common sense, and humility. But in the US Government’s 2008 sequel, Icarus doesn’t die; no, he falls but is caught a net and saved. Deus ex machina, we call it. Icarus learns no lesson, and neither does Daedalus.

Paulson is putting out the net for these falling financial institutions, saving them from their greed, and teaching them only that the government will not let them fail. So, Mr. Paulson, you are bailing out people who knew exactly what they were getting into, and many people who weren’t smart enough to know any better. Yes, millions of people are going to lose their homes, and will end up with horrible credit scores. They will suffer, oh yes, for years. But the people who knew better, the government is bailing them out.

For the money we are going to spend bailing out the investment and insurance industries, we probably could have paid for health insurance and higher education for everyone in this country. Imagine that: we’ve got socialized banking, courtesy of cutthroat, free-market capitalism, but we still can’t afford socialized medicine.

Blame Bush, blame Clinton, blame Paulson, blame Greenspan, blame Bernanke, blame those who didn’t read the fine print on their loans, blame those who took advantage of a progressively dumber population; none of these will shoulder the true responsibility. They’ll all be dead and gone by the time we finish paying for the sins of these pirates. So yo, ho, ho, and hand me that bottle of rum. We’re going under, friends.