“The Zuckerberg admission has much larger implications than anyone has yet admitted. It provides a first official and confirmed peek into the greatest scandal of our times, the global silencing of critics at all levels of society, resulting in manipulating election outcomes, a distorted public culture, the marginalization of dissent, the overriding of all free speech protections, and gaslighting as a way of life of government in our times.”
Archive for the ‘Crashology’ Category
When the world gets weird, build a greenhouse.
Sunday, March 31st, 2024The March X ends today, and among the things accomplished: a new greenhouse kit was assembled at the back line of our yard. My thanks to Russ for his catalytic inspiration, Terie and Marty for their help, and Dana for her reliable support.
Happy Easter!
Monday, September 5th, 2022
“Since the G7 oil price cap was announced on Friday, Russia has retaliated by cutting gas supply to Germany to zero, and joining forces with Saudi Arabia and others at OPEC+ to reduce global oil production. I’m going to go to the pub to drink some beer now.”
— Javier Blas, 9/5/22
Saturday, December 11th, 2021
“What I foresee going forward is a government clinging white knuckled to a crisis response when regular people would far prefer to simply stay home for a few days if they’re sick and get on with their lives if they’re not. Instead of safety maximalism, they would prefer to balance risks and rewards in a world where other priorities such as business, school, and a full reopening for people without comorbidities (who have never been at much risk and have been in even less risk after vaccines) or others that simply want to make their own health decisions.”
— Chris DeMuth, Jr., 12/11/21
Monday, November 22nd, 2021
“Every institution that was once trustworthy has been debauched to maximize private gain: higher education, science, medicine, national defense — the list includes virtually every sector and industry in America. Nothing can be trusted because somebody behind the scenes is spinning the story and data to mask their self-interest, their immense gains, and the carefully contrived structure of diverting investigation and eliminating transparency, competition, and accountability.
“The consequences of the drip-drip-drip of moral decay is difficult to discern in day-to-day life. It’s easy to dismiss the ubiquity of artifice, PR, spin, corruption, racketeering, fraud, collusion, and narrative manipulation (a.k.a. propaganda) as nothing more than human nature, but this dismissal of moral decay is nothing more than rationalizing the rot to protect insiders from the sobering reality that the entire system is unraveling and heading for its final reckoning: collapse.”— Charles Hugh Smith, 11/21/21
Sunday, August 1st, 2021
“Americanism — the ism — with the universal thought that is expressed and manifested in the brotherhood of man into group thought, as expressed by the Masonic Order, will be the eventual rule in the settlement of affairs in the world. Not that the world is to become a Masonic order, but the principles that are embraced in same will be the basis upon which the new order of peace is to be established… When these things are considered, then it is self-evident that individuals should be up and doing.”
— Edgar Cayce, Reading 1152-11
Wednesday, May 26th, 2021
“Americans should increasingly question the role of the Federal Reserve and its impact on society. It’s not normal, nor should it be, that the economy keeps running from bust to bust to bust and requires ever more debt and intervention to ‘save it’ from the fall out of the asset bubbles the Fed has propagated time and time again. ”
— Sven Henrich, NorthmanTrader.com
Friday, May 14th, 2021
“I think the next stage in the market psychology is when people figure out there is no adult supervision left in these markets… Daddy is not going to come home and fix this. We are at the point where there are no solutions, and that’s when things spin out of control…”
— John Rubino, DollarCollapse.com
Friday, April 16th, 2021
4/13/21 — “Nothing matters inside of a bubble until it does. The phrase new paradigm is becoming ever more prevalent to justify prices and the tape. Truth be told, there is no new paradigm except this one: More artificial liquidity than ever and more debt spending than ever and as a result people chasing stocks into higher valuations than ever. That’s it. There is no mystery.”
4/15/21 — “People are engaging in investing behavior that would be severely punished in any other time in history, but, because they aren’t, the belief becomes self fulfilling. This is the environment the Fed has unleashed with its reckless insistence to keep printing. What crisis? We are looking at big recovery growth everywhere. Stimulus is flooding through the system. The virus is getting under control with vaccines that are rolled out aggressively. Consumers are flush with cash and ready to spend.”
— Sven Henrich, NorthmanTrader.com
Saturday, February 27th, 2021
“There is no reason to suppose that they [central bankers] understand the modern financial system and economy to any greater extent than they did in 2007 (that is to say, not at all). Nevertheless, they plow ahead, expressing total confidence that what they are saying and doing is wise and not dangerous drivel.
“It is unlikely that these unprecedented and experimental government policies of such gargantuan scope will actually create the desired result and allow themselves to be able to be unwound without great shock and disruption to the global financial system.”— Paul Singer, 2014
Saturday, February 6th, 2021
Earlier this week, Dana and I traveled to Ohio with Terie to pay tribute to her grandmother, Jane. I like to point out that Dana found only one satisfactory mate in life, but she was blessed to have two first-class mothers-in-law. Saints, like all human beings, have imperfections, although they best emulate the only perfect example known to us, and show us how to live. Jane was that kind of person.
It was an emotional trip for another reason. Jane’s street-level funeral procession, from Moraine to North Dixie Highway, will stick with me for a long time. I can’t recall ever having seen such a disturbing progression of urban blight than what I witnessed from the back seat as Dana drove. We were all acutely aware of our surroundings. Every red light was bypassed within the supervision of local police. The steady, harrowing vision outside was that of a sad wreck — a city that I knew so well in the ’80s as Dayton, Ohio.
“Oh, the humanity . . .” (in the true spirit of the original lament)
Thursday, June 11th, 2020
“This growing sense of injustice and unfairness will hit across economies. As the virus bites harder in less developed economies, the pressure and unrest is likely to escalate. As the global economy deteriorates, unemployment rises and inequalities widen, the pressure on governments will mount. Economies in crisis and rising unrest are going to prove a fertile ground for political agitation and populism.”
— Bill Blain — The Morning Porridge
Friday, May 8th, 2020
“No one has ever taken this kind of jackhammer to the economy in such a brief time and shut it down. We just don’t understand whether this is going to take a year or ten years to work out of. Therefore, the prudent thing right now is to hunker down, minimize discretionary spending, build up liquidity, get into cash, and buy gold. There’s no playbook that will tell you where we’re going. We’ve violated all the rules of economic life and monetary rationality that have ever been created over the last centuries.”
— David Stockman — InternationalMan.com
Friday, April 10th, 2020
“The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by menacing it with an endless supply of hobgoblins.”
— H L Mencken“The projections from the data were wildly off base, but were the basis for this national lockdown. Remember when you hear that social distancing and other measures are why the projections are now being revised down: key data models assumed full social distancing.”
— Brit Hume“I would lift stay-at-home orders except for known risk groups. We already know certain conditions that are predictive of severe disease. Especially since young healthy lungs tend to be resistant, I would let the virus circulate in the population that is not likely to get severe disease from it. This is the only path that comes close to balancing the needs of all groups. Vaccines are not coming anytime soon, so natural immunity is the only way out for now. Every day, every week in the current situation is ruining innumerable lives in a criminally unjust manner.”
— Michael Burry, MD
Loving her from a distance . . .
Friday, March 20th, 2020
I’m pleased that Dana and I were able to visit Mombo at ‘The Grandview’ in Campbellsville, before the facility was locked down as part of the pandemic response. Jerome is now the only member of the Clan who can enter the building. There was a time when she would’ve been vitally interested in all the daily developments and whether or not we’re on the verge of a potential “Crash” (an ongoing topic of discussion in our family for decades).
Thursday, March 19th, 2020
“There is no precedence for the situation we are facing now. An epic battle of humanity trying to combat a new virus for which there is no cure and still no all clear signal, a global asset price collapse at the end of an aging and highly indebted business cycle and central banks with limited ammunition desperately trying to regain and maintain control. … I think all the excess and reckless monetary policies of the past 11 years are directly responsible for the severity of this crash.”
— Sven Henrich @NorthmanTrader
Pick up where you left off
Tuesday, November 6th, 2012Quoting Jesus of Nazareth, Abraham Lincoln told America, “A house divided against itself cannot stand.”
The election results are clear. Very little has changed, and all the deep division resumes again tomorrow. It looks as though the president has earned a second term with fewer electoral votes than he won the first time, and with a popular-vote margin that falls short of a mandate. Although the man has succeeded in putting together his “pied piper” coalition once again, he is not the unifying leader he claims to be, and, sadly, never was.
Pray For Japan
Monday, March 14th, 2011
March Exercise —day fourteen— Needless to say, there’s been a hazy layer of melancholy over my year, but nothing about it can compare to what so many souls across Japan have been forced to endure since last week. With no cable news feed, I can’t say I’ve spent any time with live coverage. Nevertheless, I’ve watched enough video to feel sick over the heartbreaking developments, and no self-respecting crashologist can fail to recognize how abruptly this type of disaster could befall any of us. We are more accustomed to appraising the aftermath of nature’s fury in less-advanced, relatively unsophisticated places. There’s something about seeing this devastation visited upon such a meticulous, aesthetically refined culture that rips deeper into my sense of well-being. When we were little, we would block up the creek or the pond overflow, build little villages out of sticks in the channel, and then release the water to see the miniature dwellings swept away. The boyhood pleasure we would derive from such activities comes back to haunt me now. Is some unseen cosmic juvenile at play with our little wet rock, or must we accept that each of us is merely a scintilla of this devilish lad—one of the billions of tiny cells that make up this singularly inept planetary steward?
Today’s sight bite— The swirling, gargantuan black mass oozing over everything in its path —c-l-i-c-k— as terrified observers cry helplessly, yet continue to point their video cameras at the unthinkable.
Tomorrow— The annual regime is nearly half over . . .
Crash Bucket Chronicles — Epilogue
Friday, February 20th, 2009“Death is at all times solemn, but never so much so as at sea. A man dies on shore; his body remains with this friends, but when a man falls overboard at sea and is lost, there is a suddenness in the event, and a difficulty in realizing it, which give to it an air of awful mystery.”
—Richard Henry Dana, Jr.
Two Years Before the Mast
We navigate in a sea of souls…
Grim reality has a way of sweeping aside all the self-absorbing trivialities that clog a journal like this, but rather than ask myself — “What’s the point of it all?” — why not scratch ahead with a continued search for meaning? Maybe for me. Maybe for you. Maybe, maybe not. If I stopped believing it worth a try, this would be my final post.
Not long after the bulk of our community had shaken off the surprise of our shared crisis, most of us were shocked to learn that the life of a respected local leader had been tragically lost. If his name was added to the list of Kentucky’s weather-related deaths, it is unknown to me, but what is clear is that he was found in a vacant house where he’d been working with a generator. The coroner said the circumstances were consistent with carbon monoxide poisoning. It was a mild day. He wasn’t attempting to heat the building. People speculated that the wind blew the door shut while he was operating a sump pump. The precise circumstances remain a puzzle. I didn’t know anyone active in town affairs that didn’t consider him a friend. He covered the leadership bases—from business to social service. He made multiple trips to the Gulf Coast as a volunteer to help with the Katrina response. He was highly intelligent, compassionate, and knew how to do almost anything. The Chamber of Commerce named him “outstanding citizen” over fifteen years ago, but he never slowed down. He took to his grave an unmatched knowledge of the County’s industrial development history and infrastructure. He was the last of a breed of quiet men who had made a truly significant difference. The abrupt vacancy was painfully felt. I spent two hours in line to offer his family a few words that wouldn’t sound trite. I’m not sure that I succeeded.
I didn’t attend the funeral the next day, but paid a visit with my friend Danny to the Abbey of Gethsemani. It was my first time there. It was raining and in many respects would have been considered a dismal day, but others were also making the same pilgrimage, and I found a sense of peace in the setting that defied personal understanding. God is everywhere, but keenly present in some places, and that suggests to me the appropriate use of the word “sacred.” We also stopped at the Saint Rose church in Springfield to meet Father Murray, and I had my first look at the extraordinary Bavarian-style windows. Father Murray is extraordinary, too. At age 87, he looked to me to be in his mid 70s. He told me, “Well, I’ve always gotten a lot of exercise.” He pointed out 70-year-old trees damaged in the ice storm that he helped plant when he was a novice. The seminary was moved east long ago and the associated buildings demolished, but the church remains, a splendid structure full of artistic treasures, including a 13-figure Last Supper and a 12-figure Pentecost, all wood carved in the Italian fashion. Danny wanted to show me the Convent near Loretto and to check on any damage to the outdoor Way of Sorrows. It was evident that huge limbs from the tall grove of surrounding trees had crashed all about, but the only casualty was The Crucifixion. We marveled that each figure of Our Lady had escaped harm, but that “Christ took the hit.”
Several days before, Joan had an opportunity to meet Danny when he joined Joan, Dana, and me at the Hub for coffee after one of Hayley’s high-scoring victories. It was another meaningful, in-depth discussion about heavy subjects. Joan thought she might have intruded and skewed the conversation. Nothing could be further from the truth. Danny told be later he was pleased to meet her and said that my sister was a “strong soul.” He is correct, of course, but I’ve already known that for some time. Danny is quite a soul himself. The word I would use is “magnanimous.” Yesterday he brought over his pole saw and tied himself to my chimney so he could deal with the big branches that were still jack-knifed on our rooftop. One of his earliest memories is watching his father top trees as a lumberjack in the high Sierras. He seems to have the right tool for everything and knows how to use them safely. I can’t say how much I appreciate that in two hours of work together, his generous favor of skill has saved me hundreds of dollars in tree-service fees (or maybe more, from what I’ve heard around town about what people have been charged since the storm).
So, with power now restored for Mombo and Clan Valley and the last of my storm-related headaches resolved, can I say that circumstances have returned to normal? “Not hardly,” as the expression goes. I think I’m battling the same virus that put Bruce back in the hospital yesterday with pneumonia. We’re sleeping on the floor because we made the blunder of giving away our old mattress before FedEx delivered the complete replacement set (and, wouldn’t you know it, they lost part of it). I have no complaints. Things are picking up in the studio, and I have a fun project to work on with KK & K. It’s time to put the Crash Bucket away and begin preparing for the March Exercise.
Crash Bucket Chronicles — Day Six
Sunday, February 1st, 2009“A well man at sea has little sympathy with one who is sea-sick; he is too apt to be conscious of a comparison favorable to his own manhood.”
—Richard Henry Dana, Jr.
Two Years Before the Mast
Seven Deadly Zins
Lee fixed an elaborate, delicious dinner last night, and my plate’s fare was more than I could finish. The Harrisons broke bread with us, too, and then left for a Norton Center performance. They’re still based at a motel, so that tells me Gose Pike remains off the grid. Access to David’s laptop provided an opportunity for us to glance at our growing accumulation of email. I could merely glance at Caitlan’s request that I design the invitation for her year-end wedding. And after that, the big news: Bruce called to let us know our power was back on—at last. We relaxed with Appaloosa for an encore viewing and then gratefully returned to a gradually warming house.
When the ordeal is over, a strange kind of pride or sense of self-congratulation comes alarmingly easy. While others foundered, panicked, or were just plain clueless, if one was in a position to rely on prior judgments and preparations, there can be a satisfaction that is not entirely admirable, because it too easily creates a comforting detachment from those who are still suffering, from those who are still counting the days. Somewhere in the heart is a motivation to move beyond protecting immediate family to a more general community outreach, but the longed-for end to personal crisis brings too strong a desire for the return to ordinary living.
And how smooth it can be to slip into that “new era of normalcy” without also seeing the experience as a call to greater preparedness. True, there seems to be an ongoing series of natural disasters distributed here and there, and this could be seen simply as “our turn” and to say, “All’s well that ends well.” But is it more astute to count blessings without losing a sense of guarded optimism, keeping one eye on the potential for more of the same or worse? Or perhaps that’s the unbroken “crashologist” within—my inner “doom-and-gloom-er” who needs to keep his powder dry and the gas tank on F.
Crash Bucket Chronicles — Day Five
Saturday, January 31st, 2009“It is not the least of the advantages of allowing sailors occasionally a day of liberty, that it gives them a spring, and makes them feel cheerful and independent, and leads them insensibly to look on the bright side of everything for some time after.”
—Richard Henry Dana, Jr.
Two Years Before the Mast
HITCH—Can I finish my coffee first? COLE—You surely may.
Terie’s power was restored last night, so all of us ate dinner at her place in Junction City and watched the Ed Harris picture, Appaloosa. (Superb western!) Terie fixed me up with a replacement mobile phone before we left. Even though KU has declared our residence restored, there was no power when we got home, but things seemed a bit more tolerable, just for having been in a warm, functional space for a few hours. Dana and I shifted our sleeping arrangements to the downstairs room in front of the gas grate. I was restless most of the night, until early morning, although probably better off than I would have been on the frigid second level.
Worked outside today on the “endless” expanse of fallen limbs—slow progress without a chain saw. I talked to Bill, our business neighbor, and, although he still had no power at his Parksville residence, he discovered he had electricity in his law office across the street. Dana got through to the light company again and informed them of our status. The CPAs next door are still without power, too, and, since we’re both connected to the same utility pole, all we can do is wait for someone to show up to fix it. Ruined limbs are visibly putting pressure on the line. Bill thinks that might have triggered something.
Dana is anxious to get out of the house, so we’ve decided to use the locker rooms at Centre, find an open restaurant, and then spend the evening at Lee and David’s, not knowing what we’ll come back to. Bruce went to Terie and Marty’s, so we’re shutting off the gas and leaving for the evening—with our fingers crossed.