Scandals, Squirrel Pelts and Stimulus Rebates
Say what you like about Eliot Spitzer. At least he distracted us from the economy. For a few merciful days, we took a vacation from news about the fallout from “market overexuberance” and considered overexuberance of the gubernatorial kind.
Political sex scandals are good for society because, like Amtrak, they bring people together. They’re easy to discuss and therefore encourage conversation. Economic news does not serve this social function. The truth is, we the American public are a bunch of pea wits who have no business attempting to understand, let alone talk about, the nation’s finances. Leveraged loans, collateralized debt obligations, liquidity puts…are these real terms, or is the media making fun of us?
In contrast, we knew how to handle the Spitzer scandal. Those of us who were adults during the Clinton years were already well practiced in the knowing smirk, the double entendre, the cocktail party analysis of what inspired a highly intelligent man to behave like his brain cells were songbirds in autumn, migrating en masse to tropical climes.
Likewise, we knew just how far to push the conversation, just when to hop back on the high road by tsking at “lost opportunities.” We segued to more general discussions about men, women, Mars and Venus. We communed in collective speculation about the influence of chimpanzee evolution, old hotels, Ed Koch and hormones in the water.
Anyway, the vacation’s over. Spitzer resigned and we’re back in the pit of incomprehensible Wall Street eggheads. Speaking as a non Wall Street egghead/representative of the pea witted masses, I don’t know how to react to recent news stories about the economy. Should I (a) succumb to a boredom coma (b) cower before the intellectual might of the people who, as far as I can tell, got us into this mess or (c) call up the neighbors and make a run on the bank?
It’s all very confusing. From the bits of information I’ve picked up before words turn into so much buzzing noise and I have to go soak my head again, the economy is teetering on the brink of a recession. Different experts hold different views on the likely severity of this recession, a happy coincidence that justifies all of them getting face time on CNN. There seems to be consensus, however, that The Future Is Bad. The question is, will it be “time to cut back on our latte budgets” bad or, “time to return to a nomadic existence in the woods where we’ll garb ourselves in squirrel pelts and subsist on fern fronds” bad?
Given the prospects of latte withdrawal, squirrel pelt chafing and other inconveniences, we the public deserve answers. Specifically, we deserve simple answers. Answers that we’ll enjoy discussing during long nights in the woods as we huddle together for warmth.
In other words, somebody, please lie to us. We’ll suffer enough from the economic meltdown; expecting us to understand how it happened is just plain cruel. Personally, I’d be much happier thinking that the trouble started not from a big mess of financial hoodoo but because a swarm of giant locusts emerged from the sewers of New York City and ate all the money.
Speaking of the need to speak slowly and use one syllable words, this whole “stimulus rebate” program strikes me as needlessly complicated. I mean, assuming that boosting consumer confidence is even a viable strategy at this point, why put the IRS in charge? “IRS” is about as far as an acronym can get from “confidence boosting.”
My own experience of the stimulus rebate started when I opened my mailbox and noticed an envelope with an IRS return address. After several days of praying the mail carrier would take it back, I opened the letter to discover not a demand for money, but an attempt at pre-stimulus stimulus: a letter informing me that I may, or may not, receive a check from the government.
“Dear Taxpayer,” began the letter, “We are pleased to inform you that the United States Congress passed and President George W. Bush signed into law…”
Oh dear. This was not a good beginning. On a seven diamond confidence booster scale, it rated negative carats. The letter then proceeded with several paragraphs of blather about eligibility requirements and 1040 forms. I stopped reading at “1040NR-EZ” because by that point, I had an overwhelming compulsion to stuff pillowcases with money. By the way, the widely reported cost to the government to mail this letter: $42 million.
Lying would be so much more effective. I think the government should ditch the stimulus rebate and instead send actors out to densely populated areas. These secret “consumer confidence agents” should draw as much attention as possible to themselves as they buy overpriced Starbucks mugs, $300 pillow cases, sequined pet outfits and other junk, all the while bragging loudly about how their house values doubled, “after that swarm of giant locusts hatched from the sewer and ate up all those buildings.” Hire Spitzer – not the IRS – to manage the program. He’s perfect for the job - smart, charismatic and a proven big spender.