Last weekend, with our beautiful weather, we wanted to get the kids outside for some play. So we took them to a local city park. As we arrived, there was a group of folks at the picnic tables, obviously celebrating a kid's birthday. David asked, innocently enough (and thankfully out of earshot), "don't they have a home?"
Yes, David, our 3 year old. I suppose this might somehow reflect poorly on our parenting skills, but i thought it was humorous.
All the buzz in Washington these days is the euphemistically termed "rescue plan" for our struggling economy. We're not supposed to call it a bailout, even though the essence of the deal is that financial firms will be bailed out of their shoulda-seen-it-coming, too-aggressive mortgage loan deals.
This thing is so widespread because everyone wanted in on the gravy train. It was the very definition of a market bubble, even though the residue from the last bubble (dot-coms anyone?) still hadn't evaporated. But you gotta get yours while the gettin's good. There are fortunes to be made, bonuses to be "earned". Everyone associated with the mortgage side was the belle of the ball there for a while.
Meanwhile, the Miss Prudences sat on the side like wallflowers, with no one to dance with. Watching the glitzy belles twirl around the floor, dizzyingly flirting with a bevy of suitors. And when the recklessness spun out of control, as it always does, the belles limped back, asking the wallflowers for a lift home.
OK, i've stretched the metaphor too far. Let's return to DC and the scary proposition of all the pork-barrel-hogs banding together for a "solution". It's our Rescue Plan, Coming to the Rescue! I call it that, because it reminds me of the Rescue Pack from the kids' TV show Go, Diego, Go! It's this dangerous idea that the federal government can just pony up more cash to solve any problem. Just raise the debt ceiling and we can do it!
