by James Howard Kunstler
“There is only one way to explain this shambles: Every one of these crises traces back to the Democratic Party’s obsession with taking and holding power more or less indefinitely to suit its hubristic, end-of-history “narrative” of righteous liberal triumph.”
— Patrick Lawrence
That silence you hear these dog days of a wilting empire is the calm before the storm and everybody knows it. “Joe Biden’s” final desperate ploy against the menace of Donald Trump looks about on par with the Ukraine spring offensive, hardly even worth a “hey, nice try.”
So, the best they could do was to charge Mr. Trump with objecting vocally to an election that looked as rotten as Hunter’s uncapped teeth? We all saw what happened overnight November 3 and 4, 2020: what the numbers looked like in the swing precincts at midnight and the magic mathematics that swapped tens of thousands of votes over from the Trump column to the Biden column (say, whu?) … the shutdown of the Fulton County State Farm Arena due to a supposedly leaking toilet and the ensuing monkey business with rolly-bags full of ballots under the tables captured by the closed-circuit cameras… the miraculous wee-hour harvest of ballots in Milwaukee… US Postal Service truck full of completed ballots out of Bethpage, Long Island, that turned up in Philadelphia… Mark Zuckerberg’s $419-million-dollar operation using two front orgs, the Center for Technology and Civic Life (CTCL) and the Center for Election Innovation and Research (CEIR) to staff precinct election boards with party shills and buy votes… the thumb drives and modems in the vote-counting machines….
Special Counsel Jack Smith may find it difficult to prove that expressing an opinion about all that is some kind of crime. Meanwhile, he’s turned Mr. Trump into the poster boy for the many other aggrieved victims of a government weaponized against its own people. More than half the country sees exactly what’s going on and no amount of video footage showing “JB” and Jill holding hands on the beach is going cover for that. We are on the threshold of a king-hell national crisis.
Consider: a 27.4 percent drop in goods of all kinds “roaded-in” on semi-trucks to the northeast USA this summer. That’s everything from auto parts to lumber, clothing, and food. What else do you think sent the Yellow Corp trucking company, one hundred years old, spinning into sudden bankruptcy this week? Yellow won’t be bought and reorganized, either. It owes three quarters of a billion dollars in loans to the federal government (i.e., to us taxpayers) and untold pension obligations. Next, 22,000 Yellow Corp workers will hit the unemployment rolls. Yellow Corp had a special role in the supply chain: the LTL (less-than-truckload) niche, often the final journey of a product to the customer. It was also the cheapest. Whoever picks up the work — FedEx, ABF Freight? — will cost more, and so will everything you have to buy.
Behind this crumbling economy looms the fragile financial system of banks, securities markets, a wilderness of derivatives trades, and currencies. How long do you think it will take before that clockwork of debt obligations and ownerships in failing enterprises breaks down? Think: four to eight weeks, starting with when everyone comes back from the beach or the lake after Labor Day. Banks will resume failing, too, followed by bail-out efforts that will open a trapdoor under the dollar. The country will finally learn what Bidenomics means.
Money trouble tends to blot out whatever else is happening to you, so the nation may not even notice that the Ukraine war is a lost cause. Not that we actually lost it, the Ukrainians did, poor buggers. What role did it play in American life besides money laundromat for the Biden family and a convenient stash for any number of bio-weapons labs? Are you still pretending that the war we provoked there was a heroic stand for “democracy?” Will the place matter to us when Russia has to take it on as a charity? The only thing a lot of newly-broke Americans will notice is the more than $100-billion we pounded down that rat-hole, and the thought will not make them feel warm and fuzzy.