Monday, September 16, 2024

Bill Bonner, "A Time to Every Purpose"

"A Time to Every Purpose"
It is obvious that the real economy has developed something of an immunity
 to the stimulative effects of cheap money. Debt increases, but the economy slows.
by Bill Bonner

"One day pours out its song to another...
And one night unfolds knowledge to another."
- Psalm 19

Youghal, Ireland - “I hear you people eat cats,” said the friendly border guard in Dublin. “Only in Ohio,” we replied.

What a summer! At least, our ex-president made the world laugh. Our current president revealed himself as a mental defective, by reason of his advanced age. Then, the democrats put their heads together and replaced him with a candidate nobody liked. The press immediately fell in line, telling the public what a ‘joyful’ day it was. They had chosen a woman of color... a real DEI hire... someone whom almost no one had ever voted for to be their next president. This left Americans with the familiar choice between a fool and a knave. And then, in their first debate, the fool stumbled... and the knave took the lead. Neither of them seems to have the faintest interest in the real problems facing the US or any intention of doing anything about them.

Meanwhile, the stock market soared in anticipation of this week’s Fed rate cut. Lower borrowing rates are advertised as ways to stimulate the economy. But after nearly a quarter century of ‘stimulation’ — in which $30 trillion of stimulating deficits were added to the national debt — it is obvious that the real economy has developed something of an immunity to the stimulative effects of cheap money. Debt increases, but the economy slows. The only thing that the cheap credit does still stimulate is the stock market; it was up on Friday.

But gold knows what time it is. Reuters: "Gold hits all-time high on deeper Fed rate cut expectations. Gold prices surged to record highs on Monday (today), driven by a softer dollar and expectations of a larger interest rate cut by the U.S. Federal Reserve this week.

Meanwhile...After one of the most animated summers ever, we left the house in Poitou, putting away the furniture and closing up the shutters. In a sense, all summer was spent preparing the house for winter - painting the windows, doors and shutters... organizing the woodshed and the workshop... clearing leaves away from the drains. We do not own the house, we realized, it owns us.

It is a shame to leave in September, almost always the prettiest month of the year. The mornings are misty and cool. The sun is warm. The grass, refreshed by the first fall rains, is green. Fruit still hangs heavy on the apple and pear trees. And the French countryside seems to sigh with relief. The hot days are gone. And so are the summer visitors... family and friends... the children with their happy cries from the yard... and the parents with their shrieks of horror at the bats flying through their bedrooms. All of that is over. It is time to sit in the sun... and enjoy the calm. But we have places to go and people to see.

The plan was to load some old windows into a horse van, along with our regular baggage, and drive it (via the ferry) to Ireland. Alas, we got no further than Le Mans when the van conked out. The truck was towed to a repair shop. But the problem is electronic. A technician must come with a ‘briefcase’ that he plugs into the vehicle to determine the cause of the malfunction. “I’m sorry, sir,” said the nice man at the garage, “but we won’t be able to look at it until next week... or the week after.”

“Electronics,” as we all know, are the key to today’s wealth and technical progress. They are in everything... then run our computers... our heating systems... our spacecraft and automobiles. Even a toaster oven may have a chip or two. God forbid that a solar pulse ever discombobulates our electronics; our whole civilization may come to a halt.

In the old days, with our horse van broken down beside the road, we would have opened the hood and had a look. Points? Plugs? Fuel pump? Carburetor? What was wrong? We might have been able to fix it and go on our way. Often, people would stop to help. “What’s the problem there?” A guy with his name embroidered on his blue work shirt might come over... partly out of curiosity... partly just wanting to lend a hand. “I think it’s flooding out,” we might reply. “Don’t know why.” “Let me have a look at it... I work at the garage in town.” Likely as not, he would have a solution... .or know someone else who did.

But there are no solutions with electronics... or at least, none that are available to us. Instead, we rely on the experts... the technicians... and the system. We explained that we were on our way to the ferry and didn’t want to miss our connection. “Sorry... but we don’t have anyone to work on it this week. I don’t know about next week, either. You could try to take it somewhere else... but it’s the same story everywhere... we’re all overwhelmed with work.”

And so it was that by the end of last week, we were still in France, rather than where we ought to have been, in Ireland. The situation was complicated by the need to keep moving. We have a conference to attend... and an important wedding, too. So, after a two-day delay, we rented a car... stuffed it with our luggage... and got on the boat for the crossing on Friday night. Here, too, was a bit of tranquility. There were no children running around. No families coming back from their holidays. The deck was quiet. Almost ghostly. There is a time to breathe in. And a time to breathe out. We exhaled."

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