Monetary Lapse of Reason

Add to the impressive decision list of the smartest political regime since oatmeal, this wonderful piece of news. The Fed has just dumped another $600 billion into that jagged, yawning sinkhole informally known as the U.S. economy.

This would seem to be a particularly hollow gesture, given the bounteous economic miracles already wrought by the supple hand of Lord Obama. But it gets better.

The paltry six-hundred-thousand million dollar infusion was done through a process known as quantitative easing.

A rough analogy may be in order for you fiscal neophytes. Suppose you need to buy a car. You find you have no money. So, you simply slit the throat of the car dealer. That’s quantitative easing. No, wait, that’s murder. Just a second while we look this up here in our copy of The Idiot’s Guide to Idiotic Monetary Policy for Idiots. Ah, yes:

Quantitative Easing: a central bank tactic wherein money is created out of thin air and used to buy government securities from the market, thereby flooding financial institutions with capital that is based on nothing; also known as ¡Fiat Fiesta!

Creating money ex nihilo might seem to be really cool. It might also seem to be really counterfeiting. It’s not; it’s only counterfeiting if you do it. But when the most powerful, least accountable and cutest-named central banking system ever does it, it’s quantitative easing.

The Fed simply brushes the Big Mac wrappers off the keyboard, adds a couple more zeroes to the nation’s fictional money supply and—poof!—instant monetary debasement money. With no chance of hyperinflation! Or a huge chance! We can’t remember which! So, weary carless citizen, put your mind and wallet at quantitative ease and give no thought to the recursive nightmare of a government monetizing the debt which perpetuates its very existence.

In related news, Ben Bernanke, the avuncular Chairman of the Federal Reserve, would not comment on today’s move as he left for a head-waxing appointment. But before being driven away, he slowly turned to those gathered and, penetrating their brains with telepathic waves, sent the following message: Annuit Coeptis.

Concur, Uncle Ben. It’s all good.