An Inhuman Condition

“I can see the future, and the future holds nothing for me
I can see the future, and it makes me wish that I was blind
All the hype that intoxicates us tonight
All the crap out of which we manufacture our lives”
-Snog The Future

Here in the States people seem to be watching the news, eyeing the financial section of the newspaper and praying to their gods that the dollar doesn’t collapse like the WTC. Folks are without jobs, Wall Street is riddled with pot-holes, and the government is spending China’s money trying to patch our leaky roof. Ben Bernanke at the FED ready to slash interest rates down to a single percent as if somehow cheaper borrowing costs will drive debt-laden Americans deeper down the rabbit hole. OPEC has decided to produce one-and-a-half million less barrels of oil each day so they can continue lining the pockets of Shell and Exxon-Mobile. Everywhere I look the people with the money, the people with the power, are looking for bandages to patch up the Titanic global economy, but the water keeps flowing in.

The sale of new automobiles and other luxury goods are falling in a way that would make Newton proud, and somehow it surprises people that nobody really wants to buy shit they don’t need when they’re scraping by. Hell, even the Guardian ran an article saying that pubs in Britain are selling less alcohol. When a nation’s money problems are bad enough that people can’t afford a few drinks to forget them, something is terribly wrong. But a lack of booze isn’t the only problem facing the Brits; the pound is finally subject to the force of gravity and is sitting somewhere shamefully around $1.50. Sterling must feel like a cheap one-night stand after the past three months have seen it lose 50 cents overall. Currency investors, those powerful money-havin’ folks, are reluctant to poke pounds with stick, let alone buy them. The bigwigs must be thinking, “if only we had a good waroccupation to stimulate industry like good ol’ WW2, things would be bouncing right back.” Except we have been in a state of war and occupation for the past 7 years, the war production hasn’t helped, and it seems as though one cannot increase spending, decrease taxes and expect it all to work out in the end Reagan-style.

Alan Greenspan even admitted that his dollar-dogma may have been in error and that deregulation and faith in the market may not actually cause financial bliss. I don’t know if Marx was right, if Capitalism is its own enemy and we will all dance happily around a communal fire after its death; what I do know is that we can’t fucking afford it anymore. We can’t afford rising CEO salaries. We can’t afford to buy those picket-fenced homes. We can’t afford to drive assault vehicles to soccer practice. I’m sorry, but it’s true. A second round of $150 billion in rebate checks is not going to save this sinking ship. The government would be better off burning that money than handing it out deus-ex-machina style because it’s not worth owing any more to China.

It is times like these that any cynic cherishes because there is nothing sweeter than the taste of an “I told you so” smoothie, but there are times when it’s annoying to be right. I’m just glad that I haven’t wasted the majority of my life in a soulless job pumping quarters into a 401k for that rainy day. I’m glad that I haven’t been saving for my future and betting on my hope. I do, however, wish I had a rifle with a scope because when things inevitably get worse interest fixing and lender nationalization are not going to feed me. What will feed me is the fact that I don’t have a whole lot to lose, and there are a bunch of folks out there in similar positions who understand that capitalism is a dog-eat-dog game and grocery stores do not often have armed security guards. If we end up together around The People’s Fire, even if it’s burning in a barrel of oil, maybe those like-minded individuals and I can share some roasted investor on a stick with a dash of thyme and reminisce about the good ol’ days of commercialism.

Sic semper tyrannis.