unclemick2 said:
De Gaul: "God looks after Drunkards, Fools, and The United States of America." aka modern version - Bogle's TSM and watch costs.
Uncle Mick:
My De Gaulle argument is a bit simple: He was right at the time (America is a blessed new empire); but no human, especially if he’s French, is right forever. I liken your blessing idea to my own youth, when I and a group of friends were also blessed. It seemed like we could do no wrong or at the very least never suffer the negative consequences that often come to adults who do wrong things. We would ride our bikes crazily in busy streets and suffer no ill. We would fall while tree climbing, suffering only a scuffed knee, a few cuts, or perhaps, at worst, a broken collar bone. We would careen down a hill on our toboggan, hit a tree, and all get up laughing, then dust the snow off and scheme a new and even more fun bash. We had soft, flexible bones. We had unlimited energy. Unlimited natural resources. And infinite non-sensible ideas. Thank God we were blessed.
Our county is only moderately young--at best--in the grand scheme of worldly empires and other organic, living systems. Organic things get older and sometimes can’t take the abuses they inflict on themselves.
Maturity and adulthood take away a large sum of that blessing, and just like mature or maturing empires of the past, we then suffer the real consequences of our thoughts and actions. We spend too much time occupied by bread and circuses (beer and sports?); and too little time ensuring domestic tranquility (e.g. ensuring SS payments will be there in twenty years). As adults, when our economy isn’t working correctly, we can no longer run to mom for comfort and assistance, nor can we run to the bank if there are no tax reserves stored there. We just may now be crossing over to the shady side of the empire bell curve. There may also be a fat tail. This I know is true: we are all getting older.
But there’s hope. I liken it to what I once heard about how Canadian Inuit children are raised. The little ones are pampered silly, getting most everything they want until about 11-12 years of age—spoiled rotten. Then, one day the little brat’s incessant whining and begging ends. Mom smacks him a good one, and the child either grows up quickly or dies not trying. Adulthood and childhood are different worlds. The smack transfers adulthood upon the child by the mother (or perhaps by God?). The blessing, freely given by God and moms to all young, tender organisms, dissipates and moves somewhere else, perhaps China.
But this stuff is way too bleak, dark, and grey. To add some color to the dismal scene painted here, we need to look at the AMERICAN Inuit who do things differently-- this time: Imagine a single-parent family living in the ice cold, dark north . . . Mom can be seen trudging home, pulling a seal she has just clubbed to death and faintly humming “I built that igloo in the wrong damn plaace,” a top-ten Inuit hit. Her 25 year old son, who isn’t just visiting to get his laundry done, says “hi” when mom crawls thru the front door. Mom says “It’s kind of cold in here; I’ll go out and get some fire blubber to warm the place up.” The son says “Hey ma, while you’re out there getting fire blubber, would you cut me some fresh food blubber, fry it up in blubber oil, and serve it to me. Ummm, that sure would be good. Thanks ma.” Ma goes outside.
Ma comes back in and drops the frozen fire blubber strips on the now greasy fire. She walks toward her son and slowly drops her hands to her sides, with the finger tips of her right hand near the top of her loosely fitting mukluk. Her pupils look cold and hard and if you look closely you can see them twitch upward, just once (kind of like Martha when she finds out I ALREADY ate the Monster Burger Meal).
Suddenly, she sucker smacks him with a strip of frozen fire blubber hidden in her mukluk. The boy drops to his knees (Whoa, I didn’t see that coming). Ma smacks him again (Whoa, the housing bubble just popped). And again (Whoa, the DOW drops 25%). And again (Gold drops to $363.26/oz*). And yet again (the retail etf, RTH, bites the dust).
The boy’s stomach twists up into the shape of one of those dog balloon toys. He begins to rise from his knees as this feeling in his stomach moves toward his brain . . . . The big epiphany strikes, Ah HAAA! His head rises to meet his mother’s eyes.
“I’m sorry Ma,” he says, “I’m sorry for everything.” They hug. This really looks sweet and tender; life in the wild appears wonderful again. Maybe, just maybe, history won’t repeat itself again, the world will now be a different place. Then he drops his arms from around Ma, kisses her forehead, and walks to the igloo front door thinking “Sh*t, I guess I’ll just have to go get my own snack this time.”
To sum up, in conclusion, therefore, Uncle Mick, I’m hoping that you’re just a little bit wrong about America’s permanent blessing and maybe I’m a little wrong in what I think it will take to wake us up. But I do believe in blessedness and that some organisms deserve it forever.
*this is MY dream world so just this once I’d like to make a little money trading PM shares
Dawife (DW) takes care of such negatives.
