Committing National Suicide

According to the Times of London, the Swiss government is planning to crack down on what appears to be an epidemic of suicide tourism. I'm not familiar with the situation, but I suppose people from less enlightened countries, in need of ending their lives, can visit that alpine paradise to get the deed done.

We in the United States, however, needn't worry about raising the air fare from our shrunken pocketbooks. We are in the midst of committing national suicide. I know, know, people have been predicting the end of American civilization as we know it since the New Deal, or perhaps since the Wilson administration. This time the doomsayers maybe on to something, though.

We have adopted a perverse variant of Keynesian economic theory, whereby we run large budget deficits in the good years, and gigantic ones in the bad years. At the same time, economists, or at least those who would be heard, have divorced their theories from any concept of a balance sheet, taking shelter in their particular ideologies. This condition guarantees that the American economy will sooner or later come to a full stop, and to the day when we can no longer find buyers for our debt. Our only alternative to social, economic, and political chaos will be to print money willy nilly, touching off inflation on a scale that will dwarf that of the 1970s. At that point the American emperor, whose "full faith and credit" have been the gold standard, will be shown to have no clothes, and will become the "sick man", just as once the Ottoman Empire did, as it faded away.

They Say Our Debt is Ballooning

According to Economist Joseph P. Stiglitz, our national debt is ballooning. Didn't that already happen? Was I otherwise engaged while we ran a bunch of budget surpluses, and paid the debt down to sub-balloon level? I've had attention span issues before. There are enough statistic generators out there, so I'll not review the deficit numbers. I just have one question for our bosses (formerly our elected leaders): At what level will the deficit start to seriously worry you? I don't need to ask whether winning the next election is more precious than the future of the country; you've proven that to be so. Once again... I'm out of here.

A Remembrance of Old Champagne

I'm not much of a wine drinker, but once upon a time I was. As a brand new ensign, I wasn't likely to drink much in the way of really fine wine, but there are occasions when the rule meets its exception. I was flying over seas the next day to meet my first ship. I frequently passed a very fine wine shop near the Boston Public Gardens and while I'd occasionally visited to chat with the salesman, on this day I was a customer. The bottles were arranged on their sides, in hoppers, and above each hopper lay a single display bottle, so that customers could check out the merchandise. I entered, passing the more than ample Bordeaux section without a second look. The champagne section was in the rear, and given the nature of the product, it was the smallest. I didn't have to look far. Right on the corner was a unique bottle. Most champagne bottles were green, but this one had a purplish cast, and an odd shape – Veuve Clicquot - 1961. I'd had a few half bottles of champagne, though never a vintage bottle, and never Veuve Clicquot. It was August, 1975. Fourteen years can be a long time for a cork to hold pressure, so, in a fit of pure insanity, I bought not one, but two bottles. The only wine book I'd ever read said that old champagne could be a delight, or a disappointment.

Each bottle came wrapped in tissue paper; the salesman carefully bagged them, with plenty of padding, and I walked home to chill them. When the time cane, I carefully held the cork, while twisting the bottle. It cane away without a sound, leaving an eighth inch plug in the neck. A cork screw made quick work of the plug. The faintest phht told me that all might not be lost. The champagne gave off just a few bubbles in the long, slim fluted glasses. The surprise was in the drinking. I don't think that it's possible to clearly describe the taste and aroma of old champagne. The closest I could come would be to suggest a light perfume of liquid flowers. All good people should be lucky enough to taste this once in their lifetime.

Fire The Bums

Well, let's start with Mr. Timothy Geithner. Fire him for failing to recognize the train wreck that was the financial collapse. If he claims to have recognized it, but says that he had no portfolio to prevent it, congratulate him, and tell him that he can get his 'safe little bureaucrat' card punched on the way out.

Dr Ben Bernake? Get him in front of the appropriate Congressional committee, then ask him exactly what he thought his job was during the last three years. Give him no peace until he stops obfuscating. We have a right to know.