Reaganomics 101

In case you slept through last couple of semesters (29 years), let’s recap:

Reaganomics, also once known as “voodoo economics” (coined by Bush, Sr.) had its origins in two basic premises; lower taxes and a smaller government. We got one of those.

It was to be implemented by the then Director of the Office of Management and Budget, David Stockman (remember him?), who had to defend the concept to the Congress. Amongst other things he attended divinity school.

Notwithstanding all the fancy-schmancy, high-falootin’ terminology and pedigree of Reaganomics, it really boiled down to this:

With the Democrats you get “tax and spend” economics (not for the last 29 years).

With Reaganomics you get “borrow and spend” economics (the last 29 years).

So here’s a hot flash for all of you “Greed is Good” Reaganistas out there:

The fiscal chickens have come home to roost. By the thousands, by the millions, by the billions and by the trillions.

Citibank has been all but nationalized. Bank of America is about to have its underwear crawled through by the Feds and NY State in search of corporate mis and malfeasance. A handful, comparatively speaking, of ultra-rich motherfuckers, mostly Republican, have gotten even more ultra-rich (and became even bigger motherfuckers) at the expense of the vast majority of hard-working schlubby Americans, amongst whom I count myself.

We are in a period of profound economic depression, likely to last for a decade or so and, finally, there’s this:

We are trillions of dollars in debt to the Chinese, and not the “good” Chinese, either, but rather the bad Chinese. They all but own us and could send a bunch of lawyers over here to foreclose, if they had lawyers and laws.

This, then, is the legacy that we are leaving to our children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. This, then, is the legacy of Ronald Reagan and Reaganomics.

Never vote for an actor for President. It’s bad enough voting for one as Governor of California.

Things are pretty bleak out there.

Brush Up Yer Resumes

Okay boys and girls, it's time to start brushin' up yer resumes. Soon (and sooner than you think, although not nearly soon enough) there'll be a new administration in Washington, D.C., and you know what that means...

A whole passle of new Republican Congresscritters are gonna be a-comin' to town and there's nothing they need more than a bunch of overqualified, Type-A, alcoholic, closeted, self-loathing, queer as a three-dollar bill office staffers, who can type a hundred words a minute with no errors and who have heard of this "interwebs" thing.

You'll be in rehab in no time as you drink and drug yourselves into nightly oblivion, unaware of and/or in denial about the gnawing cancer of self-loathing that's eating you alive as you slavishly serve the fag-bashing hypocrites who walked into office ON YOUR BACKS!

Like John McCain. He's against gay marriage and gay adoptions. Like where does he get off talking about marriage? Didn't he dump wife number 1 as soon as she became an inconvenient (and incapacitated) truth for the beer heiress he's married to now?

I may be wrong.

But never mind that, we're talking JOBS here.

Perhaps the only jobs remaining in America, come next January 20th, no matter who wins.

If Barack keeps his focus on one thing, and one thing only, he'll have a hard time losing in November.

"IT'S THE ECONOMY, STUPID."

All Fall Down!

A week ago we found out that the governor of New York, Mr. Goody Two-Shoes, was schtupping some high-priced slut from New Jersey.

On Saturday, just around the corner from my office, a construction crane collapsed trashing 2 city blocks, destroying a couple of buildings and killing God knows how many.

On Sunday the venerable investment house of Bear Stearns (aka "Da Bear") was sold to JPMorganChase for about $2 bucks a share. The building it occupies at the corner of 47th Street and Madison Avenue is worth more.

Today the speculation surrounds the rumors that the brokerage house of Lehman Brothers might be next (I certainly hope not. They owe me a pension!)

No wonder people drink! Especially in this city. Times either are very very good, or else they suck donkey.

Today the city has it's annual celebration which involves tens of thousands of Italian, Polish and Jewish teenagers who arrive on trains and buses to imbibe obscene quantities of green beer, festoon themselves with buttons and hats which invite the world to "Kiss Me! I'm Irish!" and to vomit said green beer in the middle of, and all the way up, Fifth Avenue, so the marchers can find their way from 42nd Street to 86th Street. At that point the parade disperses and, by 5 o'clock this afternoon just about every cop and firefighter in town will be drunk out of their minds and hanging out the open doors of every Irish Pub on Manhattan's (usually) fashionable Upper East Side.

It's a great time to knock off a few banks. Ain't no way you'll get caught.

I only suggest that because, well, times are hard. Even if Georgie Porgie can't or won't see it.

So, Happy St. Paddy's Day, everyone.

Eat, drink and be merry! But especially, drink (if you can).

(And for those who keep track of such things, I am one-quarter Irish, one-quarter English, one-quarter Scot and one-quarter Welsh. Now you know why I never stood a chance.)