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Financial Briefing: Jive Talking

[UPDATED] Giant mutual-fund firm Vanguard endorses the party of wealth, priviliege, and disregard for the common man. That's right: they endorse the Democrats (Via CDR M in the comments.).

Doomed! Doooomed! DOOOOOOOOMED!

I always say this about deflation and inflation: first one, then t'other. Well, guess what? "T'other" is drawing nigh.

Which leads to....

Treasury Inflation Protected Securities (TIPS) sell at a negative yield for the first time since the dark days of 2008. Lots of people see inflation looming, and are willing to actually *pay* Uncle Sam to issue them inflation-protected paper. Me? I'll stick to gold, thankyouverymuch. (Or I would, if I could afford to buy any more of it. So silver it is, for the time being.)

Remember that little nothing of a problem, that little minuscule easily-solved non-issue paperwork thing the banks were waving off with a "Pshaw!"? Well, guess what? That little nothing of a problem might be a bit more problematic than they thought. As in: "I ignored the burning discharge because I thought it would clear up on its own. Now my penis looks like a burned-up ballpark hotdog."

If you're Holland, Belgium, Poland, Russia, or France, this story probably raises a few goosebumps on your arms.

What would you do if your income disappeared? As long as hobos roam the land and the market for hobo-jerky remains robust, my income will never disappear.

Visit us for our overpriced coffee; stay for the boner-inducing ladies in skimpy outfits. Somehow I don't think this was what Tom Friedman had in mind when he started calling for new erections in America's cities.

Here's a handy tip: if you're nearing retirement, don't piss your money away. It's not differential calculus, folks. If you don't save enough when you're young to carry you when you're old, and if you spend what little you do have (and more besides) on shit you don't need, then don't come crying to me about how your retirement is "endangered". You got your own ass into the crack; you can get your own ass out. (Oh, and if you're supporting your 25+ year old sons or daughters? Kick their goldbricking asses out of the house and tell them the tit has run dry.) Here's a feculent little nugget for you:

Although young Americans grew up in a world of easy credit, older bankruptcy filers have 50% more credit card debt, according to Pottow's study. The median credit card debt of older bankruptcy filers in 2007 was $22,562, compared with $13,615 for younger filers, the study said.

I feel bad for old folks who get into a financial hole because of unexpected medical problems, but I don't consider getting cancer after 40 years of smoking, or diabetes after a lifetime of eating Ring Dings and drinking soda-pop by the liter, or hypertension after eating too much salt and fat, to be "unexpected". If you're going to expect me to help cover the cost of your health-care in your geezerhood, then you're going to have to allow me to insist that you eat better and get more exercise when you're younger. It's only fair. Tyrannical, you say? Fair enough. Eat, drink, and be merry, then -- and pay for the consequences yourself.

A wizened little gnome straight out of a Brothers Grimm fairy tale Teh Krugman gives the dead horse another resounding thump with his cudgel. The villagers wonder if they shouldn't put the poor soul in an asylum somewhere for his own safety, but it pleases His Majesty King Obama to watch his subject's antics from the palace window, so they leave him be. (Stephen Spruiell at NRO cuts Teh Krugman a bit of slack, and exercises some Shaolin-style chart-fu.)

The Fed to Bloomberg: F[REDACTED] YOU.

Britons tighten their belts to hang on to little luxuries.

Jeffrey Katzenberg: "As far as I'm concerned, giving you a rotten, thumping headache is my #1 job." (I'm paraphrasing a bit, but that's the gist of it.)

I always knew that Sauron was a pothead. It's that giant, bloodshot, flaming eyeball. It's a dead giveaway. It also explains the Dorito shortage throughout much of Middle Earth. (The whole place is full of confused dope fiends. Why else would Sam and Frodo fucking walk all the way to Mordor and Mount Doom when Gwaihir could have flown them there in like fifteen minutes? I'll tell you why: they were high. Gandalf too. Completely baked. Nobody was thinking clearly. They could have dropped the ring into the volcano from the air and been home in time for afternoon tea.)

TWO GENTLEMEN FROM CALIFORNIA - A TRAGEDY IN ONE ACT
(SCENE: A rustic cabin in the Sierra mountains. Autumn. A BEAR can be heard roaming about outside.)
[Chet]: We've been holed up in this cabin for days! Is the bear still out there?
[Chuck]: (Looks out the window.) Yeah.
[Chet]: So what are we going to do?
Chuck: Is the door locked? He can't get in, right?
[Chet]: Well...the lock is broken. But I don't think the bear knows that. We've got to chase him off before he realizes he can break down the door. How can we chase him off?
[Chuck]: Uh...we could throw bundles of money at it.
[Chet]: We already tried that! Like a hundred times! We don't have any money left!
[Chuck]: Oh. We could engage the bear in a multispecies roundtable and establish a consensus of understanding where we respect his bear-ness and he respects our human-ness, and we all agree not to eat or maul each other.
[Chet]: ...that is the stupidest fucking thing I've ever heard in my life. Why don't you just go out and let the bear eat you? While he's busy gnawing on your patchouli-flavored hippie carcass, I can make my getaway.
[Chuck]: Well, what do you suggest, Mister I'm-So-Smart?
[Chet]: (Thinking) Maybe if we ignore him, he'll go away. He can't hang around forever, right? Right?
(CHET and CHUCK stare out the window for a long moment as the BEAR comes closer, roaring mightily.)
[Chuck]: So...we're screwed. That's basically what you're saying.
[Chet]: Yeah. We're boned. We'll be bear-shit in some leafy glade before the end of the day.
(The curtain falls as the roaring of the BEAR overwhelms everything.)
***FIN***

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This one goes out to all the finance-industry bullshit artists, dumbass lying politicians, perfidous bankers, and mentally-arthritic liberals. Oh, and Beaver's Mom.