“First thing you do is unload all the guns in the house.”
Uncle Pundit is discoursing on how to survive the recession.
Why, Uncle? What’s that got to do with it?
“‘Cause you don’t know how depressed you’re gonna get. Remember,
I lived through the ‘30’s. Some guys I knew didn’t. It got to be
tough as a night landing on a carrier.”
But they say it’ll all be over soon. All we gotta do is spend
about a trillion dollars. They already voted it.
“Voted it, or printed it? They just gonna find it on Mars or some
other planet? No, someday, somebody’s gotta pay it back. Somebody
like you or your kids.”
Well, they say unemployment is about 7 percent, going on 8.
“That is a percentage figure. All kinds of ways of figuring them
numbers. Know what it was in the late ‘30’s, going into the war?
About 17 percent, little more.”
What’s the war got to do with it? Which war?
“Little tussle we called World War Two. Bad as it was, it saved
our hides, economy-wise. Trouble is, there’s nobody egging on
another war like that. Next one, if it comes, will be so quick
you won’t know it happened. But listen. After the guns, what you
want to do is find some good music…the old stuff, with lyrics,
words, that make sense. Turn off the TV and listen. Find some
better stuff, sonatas, classics. Sit back. Listen, and let it
calm you.”
No TV?
“Nope. That’s part of what got us into this mess. Dozens of
channels, each one trying to outdo the rest with There’s more
bad news tonight… As if the ratings depend on whose
got the worst news about the economy.”
Who does?
“Hard to say. That NBC outfit that does market news, CNBC, had a
good documentary about what did us in. Documentary told of a
pizza delivery guy selling mortgages on the side makin’ 22 grand
a month.The Wall Street guys would slice these worthless
mortgages up into chunks and sell ‘em around the world. Guys
would violate every law up to and including the second law of
thermodynamics.”
“You don’t need to know. One word you gotta know— greed. Greed
that extends to the out-of-work guy who lies on the mortgage
application that he’s makin’ a hundred grand a year. But when the
house price collapses like a cheap suitcase and the mortgage
interest goes up anyway, he is stuck. Thousands are stuck. And
who’s gonna bail ‘em out?”
I give.
“You are. Your tax dollar. ‘Cause Uncle Sam has declared
everybody has a god-given right to own a house, no matter who
lied to provide it, who cut up the worthless mortgages, and who
bought the pieces.”
Is that why this Senator Gregg doesn’t want to be Commerce
chieftain?
“Nobody knows. His explanation sounds like Treasury Geithner
explaining his plans for a pullout. Put ‘em together, I say, and
send ‘em out on the road like Hope and Crosby.”
Who and who?
“That’s right. I forget you are a youngster. They were funny
guys, and one could sing. Hope and Crosby were a little relief
during the big depression. Another relief was the Chicago World’s
Fair where one night they shot Dillinger.”
Shot who?
“A bad guy who robbed banks.”
But the way you talk about them, banks sort of deserve it.
“Yeah. But now they’re robbed by the guys who run ‘em. Turn on
the music. Let’s listen to some good stuff and then — know what?
We’ll go over and meet those new folks who moved in a week ago.”
Really?
“Yep. ‘Cause that’s another thing, like the music, that got us
through the last one. Neighborliness. Giving a damn about the guy
next door.”
