‘Twas The Death Of The Dollar

 (News & Editorial)
You’ll see inflation begin to take root and grow this coming spring, you won’t need to read about it in the newspaper or a magazine, or even watch TV news to find out when it arrives…you’ll find it alive and ravaging your pocket-book at the grocery store. The price hike curve will start inching up slowly and rise over the months. At first, the decline of the Euro will seem to stem the dollar’s slide, but soon, too soon, the dollar follow the Euro and the Japanese Yen… the dollar will slide and prices will rise. Mr Larry)
Merry Christmas.
…see you in the trenches this Spring


Twas The Death Of The Dollar
by J. Kent Willis, AGAPI Financial LLC, 2004


‘Twas the death of the dollar and all through the land
Not a greenback was traded for more than a Rand.
The paper was shoveled with nary a care
With hopes that inflation would not soon be there.

My children sit quiet and await the sad tale
Of the day that the Dollar Standard had failed.
In the quaint days of old when money was good
We bought nothing with debt and saved as we should.
But Lord Father Keynes had preached to the crowd
That paper was good and honest and proud!

We’ve no need for metal like silver or gold
Such thinking and bias is foolish and old.
We’ll print all we need and make not a fuss
The lessons of history apply not to us.
Reserve Notes were hailed as safe from the fate
That befell all nations both humble and great.
Then oceans of ink and forests of trees
Were forged into money by sovereign decrees.
The world emerged from her shackles of rust
The barbarous relics were tossed in the dust!

Dreaming we had beaten the liquidity trap
We all settled down for the Kondratieff nap.
When straight from the East there arose such a stink
The unmistakable scent of paper and ink.
We’ve seen these before, we sent them to you,
How terribly rude to refuse I.O.U.’s!

With credit for you and credit for me
There’s no cause to work for the things that we need.
Our friends in the East are happy to loan
Their savings back West, but it’s us they shall own.
Their factories were built by the sweat of the brow
And their people were fed from the fruit of the plow.
The things that we bought they shipped them all here
Prices are low, so there’s nothing to fear!
Our presses of print glowed white from the heat
Once cut loose from gold there is no retreat.

So the banks of the world stacked them twenty feet high
Locked safe in their vaults away from the eye.
Its funny, you know, that they guard them with care
They sold out their gold to make room for them there.
Protected by buzzers and bells that alarm
Believing that this made them safe from all harm
While so far away to the debtors delight
A fresh batch just like them appeared in the night!

While in the short term the sad joke was on them
They planned and they plotted the payback of men.
They graciously smiled when we handed them more
Knowing full well they’d be back on our shore.
At first they bought Treasury Debt by the ton
It kept the game going; it’s all in good fun!
But the more that they loaned the more they got back
Their grand plan had failed, it’s time to attack!
We know what we’ll do, well dump them en masse
We’ll buy all the gold and the silver and brass.
Right at the mine with our briefcase of bills
We’ll buy it all up then head for the hills.
Whatever is left we will dump on the floor
With metal in hand we’ll need them no more.

I remember the fear in the pits on that day
The index had tumbled, all support went away.
She opened no bid and was down for the count
No one was buying in any amount.
The bottom had fallen below the last floor
The traders and hedgers all rushed for the door.
Where was the fabled Japanese boost
When the chickens aplenty had come home to roost?
Elliot’s disciples who worshipped the waves
Were blinded by graphs and so they behaved
By dumping their gold when reading twin peaks
They regretted their choice at the end of the week!

A six-pack of Joes arose from the din
They wondered whatever had done the buck in?
With her intaglio portraits of leaders of yore
And shifty black ink that seemed green just before.
“Its counterfeit proof” was the Treasury song
It only requires that the world play along.

The sheeple did bleat with their handfuls of cash,
Shell-shocked and seeing their wealth was now trash.
The Maestro who had turned his back on his youth
Could no longer hide from the rod of the truth.
Our masters are cruel and their judgment is right
It’s very dismal for all, and to all a cold night!



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