There was, of course, a catch: Catch 25. The Trump Catch.
I envision, as I embark on the journey of writing this essay, a series of frantic, closed door meetings, designed to arrange an expedited escort of 45 off the premises — before he blows us all to smithereens.
Because at this point, one could certainly envision an “if I’m going down,so are the rest of y’all” scenario. Which we should seek to avoid – through any and all available means.
There are any number of ways to delete his ass. With (a shred of microscopically retained dignity still intact) resignation being the most painless and logical option. But given what we know about him to whom we refer, it’s a tall order. And, meanwhile, the engine for Impeachment 2.0 – with its gnarly cast of characters, is revving up. Of course, this exercise is practically irrelevant and entirely political – particularly insofar as the proceedings cannot even commence until after Trump’s term is over.
Got what a spectacle. It’s still avoidable, but the clock is ticking. Late Friday afternoon, Senator Lisa Murkowski (R, AK) became the first Republican member of the Upper Chamber to call for The Big Guy’s early exit (stage right).
But there’s still hope. In happier tidings, able to report that the landmark case of Jagger/Murkowski v. Grant has been settled – through means that did not require a ruling by the (still 9-member) Supreme Court. There’s also another way around an impeachment Pig Circus. It takes the form of a Catch. Catch 25. The Trump Catch.
Specifically, I refer to the 25th Amendment, which bestows upon a president’s Senior Advisors the prerogative (or duty) to remove him (or her), if in their best judgment, he (or she) is unable to faithfully discharge his (or her) duties.
To back up a bit, our thematic motif derives, yet again, from Joseph Heller’s Catch 22, which specifies that a medical officer MUST ground any WWII flight crew member deemed to be crazy. But first the crew member must ask to be decommissioned on these grounds. However, by so asking, he proves himself not to be crazy at all, and is thereby rendered ineligible for grounding in the first instance.
I had planned to use this hook when the 25th Amendment concept first reared up, about a year ago. It wasn’t going anywhere at that time, so I reverted to Catch 21. And then Catch 23.
But we’re well past that now, and we’ll skip over 24. All the way to Catch 25. Which is now a go.
Here, the rules of engagement are less clear. Must Trump ask to be deep-sixed because he knows he’s crazy? And if he knows he’s crazy, is he really crazy at all? And if he’s not crazy, can he still be removed?
I reckon it won’t matter much, one way or another. His day is done. His actions and decisions — since the election and particularly last week, rank among the worst series of misjudgments in presidential history. I can’t think of anything that comes close. Neville Chamberlain at Munich? Probably, but that doesn’t count because he was British.
I will spare you a detailed rehashing of the events and their implications. I will, though, state that I take this episode as an affront — to myself and all like-minded individuals (of whom, presumably, there are at least a few). We are very skeptical, downright afraid, of progressive sacred cows such as identity politics, redistribution, and a full menu of rehashed “isms” that appear to us to have a common objective of diluting individual prerogatives, in favor of protocols determined not by the many, but rather by the few.
We managed to convince ourselves that Trump was a partial antidote to the foregoing. A deeply flawed antidote, but the only one available to us in a pinch. None of us really liked him; we all recognized his flaws, but at least he seemed (to us) to be invested in civil liberties, individual choice, and all of the magic that ensues from these life-enriching gifts.
Deep down, though, we were aware that he was all about himself – and nothing else. In this, he is not unique, but we hoped that he could show the infinitesimal amount of discipline necessary to allow us to preserve these virtues – for everyone’s benefit. In the end, our hopes were dashed; he could not do so.
And, in the end, there is Catch 25.
And now, those of us who showed any sympathy or support for him (including yours truly) can just shut the f_ck up. And we (I) will. Well before this latest farce, they were bringing the hammer down on us. People were losing jobs, friends and family for any deviation from woke consensus. After this week? Fuggedaboudit. As I have repeatedly told my soul mate, for conservatism to have prayer — in a world where the field is tilted against it, it must manifest through the virtues of civility, humility and grace. Now, to suggest that we retain this one thin read of advantage is to be scoffed at, derided, dismissed.
Because our guy stoked up a protest that turned into a violent breach of sacred public property, disrupting one of the most important (if designed to be mechanical) undertakings assigned to our elected officials. Happened on his watch; he arguably incited it. Took wholly inadequate steps to address the unfolding crisis.
And this is after pushing the duly elected GA Secretary of State to manufacture votes that simply weren’t there – a stunt that arguably contributed to the loss of both Senate seats — on what once was GOP home turf. And, by doing so, he giftwrapped the entire Washingtonian government apparatus to its opponents.
Through these and other actions, he threw every one of us who heretofore refused to demonize him (and supported portions of his agenda) under the bus.
So, now, there’s nothing for me to do but shut the f_ck up about this. But one last word to the wise. Our political, social and economic challenges are not solved by the fallout from this episode; arguably, they are rendered the worse. I and my ilk were not wrong about everything; a large measure of our concerns will still abide our society, and the challenges faced by those who are convinced that theirs is a “better way” are in their embryonic state – beasts slouching towards Bethlehem, waiting to be born.
I wish our new overseers Godspeed.
Meantime, seeing as how this is a market commentary publication and all, I present, for your consideration, a corollary to Catch 25 – call it Catch 25a: No matter what happens, the market goes up.
The following statement sums it up: you know you’re in a stone-cold bull market when violent protestors breach into the Capitol Building, and the market fails to record a single downtick. But that’s what went down. Bid ‘em up on Wednesday, when that dude from Arkansas had his boots on Nancy’s desk, rallied ‘em on Thursday and again on Friday, when the fallout began and then mushroomed.
So, just to be clear, all of our indices lurched to new record highs in a week where:
- The Republicans lost the Senate.
- There was a murderous attack inside Congressional chambers.
- The whole D.C. power hierarchy turned its focus to the removal of the President.
- For the first time since Spring, the Dec. Non-Farm Payrolls Report went negative (-140K).
It’s enough to make an old market jock weep with admiration and gratitude. And I believe it will continue.
Friday’s cherry top rally, most of which took place long after the dismal Jobs Report dropped, was certainly catalyzed, at least in part, by proclamations by the (now firmly established) President-Elect, that trillions in incremental stimulus will most certainly be needed this winter. And who is going to stand in the way of this wisdom and largesse? New universes of cash are forming, to be super-imposed upon the untold and growing number of monetary galaxies already created. We’re all dressed up, pockets full, but no place to spend. Lots of spare change, though, for everyone to buy speculative assets.
And they will continue to do so. Presumably at the expense of the besieged and beleaguered USD. The only thing that stops or even slows this wave is the threat of inflation, about which (like Charles Dudley Warner’s weather) everyone talks, no one does anything.
There is ample reason to be concerned. Consider, for instance, the Energy Patch, currently operating at ~60% capacity – before the new environmental czars have even taken formal control, weapons trained on the entire fossil fuels complex, and bent on its destruction. What happens when (if) the virus dies down and all those cabin feverish folks take to the road (and maybe even the air)?
Well, energy prices, could, ought to, skyrocket, maybe setting off that whole inflationary chain reaction about which everyone talks, but no one does anything, in response.
I think it has to happen eventually, but the timing is unclear. When it does, the only policy offset will be higher rates. Which will cripple a capita market and economy, drowning in debt, at the most in opportune time. Meantime, Biden and crew enter, stage left, with the Fed Chair’s former boss at the Treasury controls, and, presumably a (temporary) blank check to celebrate the new dawn that purportedly emerges when the Big Orange Blob bounces into oblivion.
There is, however, a catch. And if you don’t know what it is, you haven’t been paying attention.
So, I’ll quietly take my leave, with the sentiment that what goes ‘round comes ‘round. For all of us. No matter what. Be forewarned.
Let’s carry forward with our plans, anyway, shall we? We don’t need to say much about them, and (particularly after last week) nobody is likely to listen to us anyway, right?
But if you let me catch you, then I’ll get caught and stay caught. And that will be the best catch of all – so good, in fact, that it won’t even require a numerical suffix.
TIMSHEL