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PERRIN LOVETT

~ Deo Vindice

PERRIN LOVETT

Tag Archives: Tom Ironsides

Economic Imitates Fiction

15 Wednesday Apr 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in Legal/Political Columns, News and Notes

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economics, fiction, Todd Vispoli, Tom Ironsides, TPC

Not that long ago, just as the Corona Hoax and concurrent Economic Collapse were getting underway, I ran a lengthy analysis of the same, at TPC, using fictional voices to make real points and predictions. It’s interesting, and alarming to see nearly all of Todd’s (and Tom’s) calls coming true. Just a few (more) that I saw today alone:

WE HAVE NO MONEY ANYMORE!

Universal Basic Income

The System Is Rigged

Not sure if I directly relayed the following, though I’ve mentioned it here and at FP for years: They Want To Steal Your Cash!

Another example(s) of reading it from me with humor, today, or get it weeks, months, or years later from the drab MSM. (Read it here!)

PS: A new TPC column should be along later today!

The Very Strangest Thing Happened … at TPC

12 Sunday Apr 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in Other Columns

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Tom Ironsides, TPC

Imagine this: you “create” a fictional character, writing about him sometimes. Then, the next thing you know, he’s writing on his own:

From TPC, Sunday, April 12, 2020:

12 April 2020

A Letter to the Editor by Tom Ironsides: Celebrate Life & Hug Your Children

Dear Mr. McCart:
Greetings. I do not think we have ever met, such are my strange interactions with the “real” world. I was asked to write something for you publication by our mutual friend, Perrin Lovett, whom I have cc’d if for no other reason than to stem his incessant pestering. It is my understanding that he is working on another of his usual columns for next week (and, for that, I am blameless). The attached submission (DOC and PDF) is not what I gather he was interested in. However, as noted in the letter, it kind of sprang into my heart more than my mind. While it is admittedly a little out of my character as some know it, I hope it is sufficiently interesting. If so, then I concluded it with a brief bio, lifted from my college faculty page (my apologies, but the picture would not transfer). The title, while provided by me, is ultimately your call. I ask only that my email address or other direct contact information NOT be included with the letter.
As an aside, Mrs. Tuggle’s weekly work is always interesting and delightful. Please pass that message along to her. The rest is certainly … something. Thank you.
Sincerely,
Tom Ironsides
PS: Go Cavs!

###

Celebrate Life And Hug Your Children

Dr. Thomas H. Ironsides, II

 

Dear Mr. McCart and Friends:

My acquaintance and your colleague, Mr. Lovett, asked or begged me to write something regarding late events, both biological and geo-political. Some of my experience and opinion I understand he has recently relayed, and more of which I believe he is currently imagining. Personally, I have just about had it with my house arrest, which to my great credit, I have been breaking on a regular basis. No apologies to Sheriff Hagaman. So, of that, I have little more to say or to think. Instead, as I was instructed to write “from the heart,” I will tell you a story. It’s a little late in coming back to my mind, however, it is perfectly fitting for this Easter Season.

On the afternoon of Friday, February the 14th, I was entertaining myself in the quaint downtown of my adopted Blowing Rock. Happening upon the wonderful Art and History Museum, and having never ventured therein, I decided to peruse the galleries. Immediately, I stumbled upon what I at first took for a community party. Soon, I realized it was a public wake for a local dignitary. Someone informed me that it was not, in fact, a funeral; rather, it was a celebration. And so, I would like to share some of that experience and brave spirit with you.

The woman of the hour, of the day, was a little girl. Her name was Bexley Svana Moffat and she was only a few months into the ripe young age of two years when she unexpectedly succumbed to leukemia. Please read her unusual and heartening obituary, as linked, courtesy of the Austin and Barnes Funeral Home: 

https://austinandbarnesfuneralhome.com/tribute/details/2230/Bexley-Moffatt/obituary.html#tribute-start

According to Saint Jude Children’s Research Hospital, approximately American 3,000 children are diagnosed with leukemia every year. Around ninety percent enter into remission and are effectively cured within ten years of the onset of aggressive treatment. Why is the minority taken by this accursed disease? Most can imagine the horror of losing a precious baby. Some of us, unfortunately, know the shock and lasting pain, first-hand. In dread times such as these, we do well to remember our temporal existence in and on the physical Earth. As hard as it is to fathom, sometimes the little ones are more needed elsewhere. Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, said, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not hinder them, for the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these.” Matthew 19:14. 

Well, from the very little I know, and as you may readily gather from that infectious photograph, it is a much brighter day in Heaven. That face and especially those big, blue eyes say, “Hello! I’m sweet though a bundle of fun trouble!” The parting message left for us first-person by Bexley, notes that among the things she loved the most were her mommy and daddy, her grandparents, and her puppies. You just know each was the world among the others. 

It’s fascinating, to me, that I write about this brief encounter, particularly as I consider its context in my life. Why am I still here? For decades, I walked hand-in-hand, as a partner, with death. My own demise could have easily found me a hundred times over and yet it did not. I surmise the Almighty must require bubbly sweethearts more urgently than gruff, stubborn jarheads. (Who could blame Him?) And I could have told you a similar story about Gloria, but after thirty years, my words still fail me. I trust Bexley understands both my ponderings and my discourse.

This adorable little stranger-friend whom I never knew has given me the strength and the joy to look upon otherwise unspeakable tragedy as the celebration of the eternal. For this Miracle, I might deem her Saint Bexley (though I think she is not one for formal pretense).

I leave you with the following thoughts: our days, currently, have about them a bleak disposition. Some of us are sick. Some are scared. Some are unemployed. We lack a certain direction or purpose. Yet, it is all but temporary tribulation. Just as the Mightiest Son rose for us, so the smallest daughter helps us to raise our darkened spirits. So, right now, go on and hug your children – of any age. Leave a social distance between you that you couldn’t slip a piece of paper through. 

Thank you and may God bless you,

Tom Ironsides

[dthi/fac.jpg] Dr. Thomas H. Ironsides, II (Ph.D., Harvard) is Professor of Classics at Saint Thomas of Aquino College. When not teaching Roman philosophy and culture, he is also President of the American Classical Education (ACE) Center. He previously retired as a Paramilitary Operations Officer and Acting Deputy Director of the Special Activities Division, National Clandestine Service, United States Central Intelligence Agency and as a Colonel with the United States Marine Corps. Given his experiences, he is adamantly opposed to gratuitous warfare and attendant international usury. Currently, with an aching back and sore thumbs, he attempts to build by hand a small cabin.

 

A Social Distance – a little fiction where we left off…

28 Saturday Mar 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in Other Columns

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Coronavirus, fiction, hoax, short story, Todd Vispoli, Tom Ironsides

Noo Yawkas and Congress-critters are telling each other to “shut the f-ck up,” and the police are hunting out-of-staters in RI, FL, and TX. But, let’s take a look at the lighter side, if any, of the current panic:

A Social Distance

Steubenville, Ohio, Saint Patrick’s Day 2020, 6 PM…

A woman was screaming at the top of her lungs. The words were incoherent but her tone and demeanor left no doubt as to her murderous intentions. Another woman, a little older and quieter, had just connected with the emergency operator and frantically pleaded for help. On the floor, two men rolled and wrestled violently. Neither trained or experienced for the encounter, they flailed and tugged; each unsure whether to grapple or strike, they did both with inartful abandon. Nearby, a larger man began shoving several teenagers towards a wall, cursing and spluttering as he did so. It had come to this so rapidly. And it would surely get worse as night fell. Part of the large crowd pressed in closer, jostling with each other – to avail themselves of a better view of the mayhem or, possibly, to join it. Others, having no desire for brutality, began to depart the scene.

Seeing his chance, he darted through the madness and ran a short distance. He quickly glanced over his shoulder. Someone, maybe another irate woman, yelled something about “go ahead and run!” He didn’t care so long as he was temporarily free. He had a job to do. Turning away he again scanned the environment. It wasn’t his usual neighborhood and he would have been out of place on a good day. Just then, as he started to recover his wits, a crazed man in a medical mask rushed by in a frenzy. Rammed almost to the ground, he jumped up. He resisted the urge to say anything and kept moving. He was also resisting the calls of his own better judgment: “Just get out of there, you fool!” He’d never in his life been in war nor any serious criminal altercation. As he ducked and dodged forward, he wondered if his luck would run out. He fully expected gunfire to ring out at any moment.

Then, when from behind the shouting, screaming, and sounds of physical objects being broken reached a frantic peak, he came to a corner. Turning it, he beheld utter devastation. It was like the views of some third-world country in the midst of a civil war that one sometimes sees on the evening news: he was about to enter an area of desolation and despair. He did so at a run, fast enough (he thought) not to become a target, but slow enough (he hoped) to allow his senses to process the survivors – if there were any left. 

Foot by torturous foot, he made his way – as quickly though carefully as possible – through a sea of destruction, down a veritable bombed-out street. He knew it had been quaint and civilized just hours earlier. The thoughts, augmented by the whirling fury around him, made him sick. What has become of us! he asked himself. Portions of a lunch too hastily consumed ventured to the back of his mouth. He fought the urge to vomit. He fought the stronger urge to make a break for safety. To say things were looking black would have been an understatement. Here, here of all places where it should have been, he found only chaos and the crumpled remains of civilization. Only when he was about to give in to all his urges, to abandon his desperate quest, did a ray of hope shine in like the sun through dark clouds: he saw something! No, it wasn’t what he’d come for, what he expected, or even what he thought might be useful. But, damn it, it was all he had now. Figuring any alternative would make do under the circumstances, he reached out his free hand and grabbed it. He grabbed it and ran! Now! Now, he pursued a speed he had not known since his days in college and that failed tryout for the varsity track team. This time around, his prize might well be his life. He knew that and made use of all his cascading fears and all his remaining energy.

A moment later he was rewarded. This thing, made so precious by the insanity of his fallen world, along with the other odd bits and pieces of things he’d found in a pinch, was finally and truly his. The monetary price, small though it was, did not matter. Ten times the value he would have paid and happily. The extra plastic bags he snagged, almost as an afterthought, were the icing on the sour cake. He had made it through the gauntlet of death! Phone in hand, he collapsed into the comfort of his waiting SUV, somewhere out there in the vast Kroger parking lot.

‘Honey! Honey,’ he cried into the small, flat glass screen, ‘I found some! They were all out of toilet paper, but I got a box of Kleenex. The last one. It’s a small square one, but it’s better than nothing. I love you, baby, I love you!’

‘Todd,’ Claire asked with mild annoyance in her voice, ‘where are you?’

‘Kroger. Steubenville,’ Todd gasped as another police car screeched to a stop nearby. ‘On my way back, I tried everywhere. The Kroger and the Shop ‘n Save in Weirton. Even Walmart. All I could find was a little four-pack. A roll of paper towels. Some canned tuna. No… No hand sanitizer anywhere. It’s a wasteland out-’

‘Todd Vispoli!’ Claire said, the annoyance crystal clear now; ‘It’s time you came home. I’m cooking supper and Bryson wants to toss the football around. Ruthie wants to play cheerleader. And Lizzy has a question about something. I need my husband and the kids need their father. Quit playing soldier and come home!’

‘Okay, okay, baby,’ he panted as he watched more police cars and a firetruck enter the lot. ‘But, it’s going to get rough. We need toilet paper. Basics. Tom Ironsides, my new friend, said it’s going to get really ugly. Already is. I just saw people trying to kill each other for grits and bacon. Not a loaf of bread left in the store-’

‘Todd, my dear,’ Claire said with a bit more understanding in her voice, ‘we know that. It’s all on the news – all that’s on. You didn’t need a CIA spook to tell you. I asked you not to go to Pittsburgh in the first place. Remember?’

Todd thought back to the weekend and her advice that the conference would probably be cut short even if it was allowed to commence. As he watched an officer retrieve a rifle from the trunk of a Dodge Charger, he shifted into reverse and prepared to depart. ‘You were right, you were right,’ he said. ‘We were wrapping up a panel discussion when the cops and the health inspector shut it down. Tom and I went to a bar – you’d remember it, Marv’s place on the river – for beer and sandwiches. But, we’d just started eating when the police came in and ordered everyone out. I was a little afraid we’d get arrested or something. They had many harsh words for Marv.

‘Anyway, as we were walking out the front door, these two FBI agents approached and wanted to talk to Tom. “Colonel,” they said, “we’ve got some really bad news. Need your input on some things,” they said. He talked with them for a few minutes, half of it in whispers. He seemed almost amused and kept telling them, “I just don’t care.” Then, they said something that got his attention, something about it backfiring and the Omega Section, whatever that is. All of a sudden, Tom got really serious. Before he left with the G-men, he told me to head straight home but to maybe stock up before I got to the house. He said there was about to be panic – but not for the right reasons – and that things like toilet paper would be in short supply. He said we might be locked down for a while. Said it might turn into martial law – or worse. I’ve been looking for tee-pee since I left Pittsburgh. Tough luck out here.’

‘Well,’ she said, ‘I did my big monthly shopping a few days ago, while you were packing. Then, this morning, based on the ordinary news reports, I decided to do a follow-up. Riesbeck’s in Anytown had plenty of toilet paper, paper towels and everything else. We’re set for a good three months, maybe longer. I’m a prepper if you recall.’

‘And, thank God, baby!’ he said with relief as he pulled onto the highway, passing an ambulance and more police cars, all with sirens blaring and lights flashing. ‘I’ll be home in thirty minutes. Tell Bryce to be ready.’ He thought for a second and then asked, ‘Hey, in all your prepper readings and so forth, did you ever hear anything about this Omega whatever?’

‘We’ll all be ready when you arrive, dear,’ she said. ‘Omega? No, sweetie. Sounds like a big hoax to me.’

 

 

You CAN Go Lower Than Zero

25 Wednesday Mar 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in Legal/Political Columns, News and Notes

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Economic collapse, economics, Federal Reserve, government, interest rates, Tom Ironsides

And, you have.

Just the other week, my avatars, Tom Ironsides and Todd Vispoli (neither of which is me, by the way) discussed the real crisis behind the ridiculous Corona Chan false flag and hoax. Todd said: ‘The funds rate is already effectively below zero, and it has been for some time. All the idiot pundits say, “you can’t go lower than zero,” but that’s just another one of their lies. Of course, you can go lower. The Europeans are below zero.’

Now, US Treasuries are too.

Yields on both the one-month and three-month Treasury bills dipped below zero Wednesday, a week and a half after the Federal Reserve cuts its benchmark rate to near-zero and as investors have flocked to the safety of fixed income amid general market turmoil.

It was the first time that happened in 4½ years, when both bills briefly flashed red and yields fell to minus-0.002% each. The readings Wednesday were well below those.

This comes while the criminals in DC scramble to give away even more value to the masters of usury. (But hey! You’ll get $1200 or something). This, while Americans hide in their homes, leaving only to run around in masks and fight each other for toilet paper. What the rate drop means in real terms is that when you buy a short-term bond and loan the Empire your money, you have to pay them to take your money. That means your money is … worthless. Think about it (if that’s possible anymore) like this: if you have something valuable around the house – gold, timber, stamp collection, etc. – then people will pay you for the privilege of taking it for themselves. On the other hand, you have to pay to have worthless or dangerous things removed from your home – like black mold or toxic waste in the soil.

Extrapolating further, to Wall Street, the relative worthlessness of the cash means that it takes more of it to buy things, like stocks. Thus, the prices of the stocks rise, driving a false sense of prosperity in the DOW. But, as soon as the bailout cash is spent (tomorrow), we’re back to square one and a lack of true value. Those at the top of the chain (the banksters) reap the greatest rewards. The rest pay the price.

A few related questions:

If all non-essential offices are supposed to be closed, then how the hell is Congress open?

If you get $1200 “free” from Uncle Sucker, but there is no toilet paper available to purchase, do you use the fiat to wipe your ass?

If Washington can afford to part with Trillion$ in giveaway cash, then why do we have to continue to pay taxes?

Is a combination of Chloroquine and UV radiation effective against usury and tyranny?

We need answers.

The Snakes – St. Patrick’s Fiction – from TPC

17 Tuesday Mar 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in Legal/Political Columns, Other Columns

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Coronavirus, economics, fiction, Saint Patrick, snakes, Tom Ironsides, TPC

The Snakes

Happy Saint Patrick’s Day! The following is a fictional tale involving all-too-real national events and themes, an homage of sorts to the Socratic dialogues of old. It’s almost 3,700 words long. For the “TL;DR” and Farcebook crowd, I offer an appropriate alternative: CLICK HERE (no reading required).

*****

Announcer: ‘…concludes the administration’s latest remarks on the ongoing national emergency. C-SPAN now returns to our coverage of the Current Events Panel Discussion at the National Education Policy Conference in Pittsburgh. Doctor Thomas Ironsides of Saint Thomas of Aquino College is answering a series of questions related to the crisis in the schools and the Coronavirus…’

A confused young school administrator sought to clarify the panelist’s previous answers: ‘But, Doctor Ironsides, you said, you said that the situation with the virus is akin to the allegory or the metaphor of Saint Patrick and the snakes. Wikipedia says there were no snakes in Ireland back then. If there’s another meaning in all of this, for, say, students in my district, then what is it?’

‘No. Saint Patrick didn’t drive out literal reptiles. It was more like reptilians. Snakes were a collective metaphorical name given to his true target, something much worse, something that Church Fathers and medieval scholars were loath to even name, so wicked, was it. Let’s just say that if he was in America, today, then his work would impact some of those demonic storytime hours you host for the kiddies and some of the truth-averse rainbow Read One-Eighty lessons,’ he answered with a smile. She frowned and he continued: ‘For us as a nation, it means that, as bad as it may be, that the Coronavirus isn’t the long-term problem. It’s the economy and the culture. That’s what has been revealed by the current crisis. That, and just how gullible and foolish the people have become; America is now a giant George Carlin skit.’

The woman blinked and then asked, ‘So, you’re saying the virus isn’t a big deal?’

‘No,’ Tom said, ‘what I’m saying is that the economy – all that money – is a bigger, more dangerous deal. The Corona-nineteen is obviously dangerous, but call me a skeptic, I have some doubts. I think they’re using it as cover, both for the economy and to mask some of their latent agendas. They keep saying this is the new nine-eleven. That, I have first-hand knowledge of – more than I can tell you and certainly more than you would believe. But remember, they said that nine-eleven was the new Pearl Harbor and that nothing would ever be the same – the new normal. Given who in the government and the media beats the drums about the bug and the comparisons they make, I wonder if this is yet another example of one false flag hoax begetting yet another, latest in a never-ending series of lies and manufactured panics. Or, could this finally be the ballyhooed wolf at long last emerging from the woods? Either way, how can we trust the powers this time?’

The moderator took advantage of a pause and spoke, ‘Doctor Ironsides, that’s an interesting point. Well, several, really. We, among ourselves, had some talks and more questions about what is going on with the economy. Do you have any inside insights as to what policy changes we can look for in the coming weeks or months?’

‘Other than it’s going to be really bad, no,’ Tom said with a laugh; ‘I’m no more an economist than I am a medical doctor. But I think Todd may have some answers. He’s been over here kind of fidgeting like he’s got something to say.’ He turned to the younger man at his left and said, ‘Been awfully quiet the whole time, this far. Whatcha say?’

‘Thanks, Tom, Doctor Ironsides,’ the younger man said. ‘If it’s all the same, I think I can take it from here.’

‘Have at it,’ Tom said.

‘Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,’ the other man began. ‘I’m Todd Vispoli and I am the Adam Smith Chair of Economics at Anytown University just down the road in Ohio.’ He looked around the room and, for a second, watched the red light atop the television camera blink. Then, he said, ‘It is the economy. And, it’s not what we should be looking for – although I think there’s plenty more to come; it’s what we’ve seen already. That should be the cause of general alarm. We are in a full economic collapse now.

‘Last week, around the time that the President spoke from the Oval Office, the Federal Reserve announced that they were immediately injecting one-point-five trillion dollars into the financial markets, into the commercial banks. That was allegedly in response to the day’s, Thursday’s stock market collapse, with that coming on the heels of other terrible bear-market days. It’s interesting, the President had just assured the people that the banks were fully capitalized and then they needed that level of assistance. CNBC said it was a direct intervention to calm the markets. Super plunge protection, if you will. The announcement worked for maybe an hour. Then, the market continued to tank. I think the day was the then biggest loss since the crash of Nineteen-eighty-seven. The next day saw a recovery when the money hit, but what a price to buy back one day of loss. This week, the roller-coaster is back in motion, with the Dow down three-thousand points yesterday, now the worst day since Eighty-seven and the largest point drop in history. Again. The roller coaster – I haven’t even looked at it today. Yesterday, the Fed cut the funds rate to zero and printed another seven-hundred billion dollars for the banks. Then, they printed another half-trillion and the IMF agreed to kick in yet another trillion. They’re even calling it quantitative easing again. Yeah, all that and the closures and the voluntary lockdowns, the masks and toilet paper, et cetera; Carlin would have had a field day with this mess. 

‘God, they’ve ginned up almost three-trillion dollars in a week! We have paleo-conservatives and assorted liberals now glibly calling for socialism to make Bernie Sanders look like a spokesman for the John Birch Society. And all this craziness comes after the recent revival of Fed interventions in the so-called repo market. Those injections were on the order of a hundred-billion per day, a revival of procedures from the fall of last year-’

‘What are they, what is the repo market, Doctor Vipoli?’ asked the moderator.

Todd laughed. ‘A great question! The truth is, other than being a free money giveaway program, no-one outside of the Fed has any idea. I’ve been teaching economics for almost twenty years and I don’t understand it. Other than that it is theft. The banks are not capitalized at all. They meet their day-to-day or night-to-night operating requirements – transfers to each other on computers – with an electronic shifting of funds that we’re not even sure exist in any real form. Lately, the books don’t balance and they have overnight shortfalls in the transfers, so the Fed provides easy money to make up the difference. The original reasons, back in September, had something very nebulous to do with quarterly tax payments and high-volume trading calls – both allegedly signs that the system was booming – and that a one-time infusion was necessary to carry liquidity demand. I guess they liked it so much that they decided to make it semi-permanent. Or, permanent. They say they’re overnight, one-day loans, but we never see any evidence that they’re paid back. In fact, if they were paid back, in full, the very next business day, then what was the reason for them in the first place? Other than pitiful management or crooked accounting or short-sightedness?

‘Rhetorical questions, of course. It’s obvious that there is a deep structural problem both in the markets and in the monetary system itself. First, there is no money in our economy! Zero. I’ll get back to that in a moment – someone remind me if I wander off. Second, given how this charade has devolved, there just isn’t enough of what they call money to go around. That’s why they run the overnight printing presses. Last fall – and, I had an argument, a debate about this, last week with Gerald Celente – last fall, through the end of the year, they printed, loaned, and inflated trillions of dollars into the banking system. Gerald says six trillion; I say over ten. We simply don’t know, other than it is a ridiculous sum. I doubt the Fed even keeps track of it. They stopped publishing accurate monetary base estimates years ago.’ He laughed again, shrugged his shoulders, and took a sip of water.

‘Is there a generalized name or theory behind this phenomenon, doctor?’ the moderator asked. ‘This is all news to me, new to me.’

‘Well, Gresham’s Law held, perfectly: the bad money drove out the good. Period. For a few years now, I’ve been calling it Kemp’s Last Stand,’ Todd said with a chuckle. ‘It goes back to an older theory, a historical observation: in general, large-sector currencies, or the currencies of powerful nations, only last about fifty years on average. When do we start the clock running on the dollar? It’s not Seventeen-seventy-six or even Nineteen-thirteen. Nixon took us completely off the gold standard, any last remaining link, in Seventy-three. Ten years later, the move was effectively permanent. I’ll pick the date as July sixteenth of Eighty-four. That’s the day that Jack Kemp’s Gold Standard Act, a last-ditch effort to return to some normalcy, was left to wither and die in a House banking subcommittee like a deformed Spartan baby left out in the cold. So, on average, the modern dollar has fourteen years of life left. But, I don’t think it’s average. It’s worse. And it could easily collapse in four years or even four months. Sooner or later, I say sooner, it’s done; too much debt and damage at this point.’

The moderator’s face, what could be seen of it, mirrored much of the confusion floating around the room. He adjusted his medical facemask and said, ‘Okay, I’ll bite. Why don’t we have money anymore? What do we have?’

‘What we have is financial sorcery,’ Todd said in answer, ‘black magic literally conjuring up fiat out of dark nothingness. It was a long, torturous death and it started in Nineteen-thirteen with the creation of the Fed. Inch by inch, year by year, they sucked all of the actual value out of the money and from the real economy. Like vampires. It’s why the things that used to cost a dollar a hundred years ago now cost a hundred dollars or more. It’s why banks and corporations own everything. It’s why the government will never pay off its debts. And, it’s why at least a third of all corporate revenue gets sucked into finance payments. More monetary dilution than monetary inflation and they’ve diluted the money until it is no longer money.

‘Money, like any other word, has a meaning, a definition. It was the same in the Eighteen-twenty-eight Webster’s as it was in the Nineteen-eighty-six Barron’s Financial Dictionary. The same as it still is in many economics texts today. Gold, or some other precious metal, was literally the standard because it was: valuable in and of itself, it was portable, acceptable to the masses, and it was fungible, or mutually interchangeable. Most importantly, it was valuable in and of itself. If for no other reason – and there are many – people have always valued gold because it is pretty.

‘These digital ones and zeroes that comprise our gazillions of modern dollars are not pretty. No woman would suggest you give her a bracelet of finest computer code! They have no value unless it’s in the substance of the electricity needed to write them on a disk or to transmit them from one server to another. How much electricity does that require? And, how much does that much electricity cost for hosting all the fake money in the whole economy? A penny? A dollar? Ten dollars?  What’s the relative value of the same amount of current, not currency? Could we, for the worth of all the Fed’s fake money codes, say, power a lightbulb for an hour?! The relative value is either zero or it’s negative.’

‘Oh, that reminds me. The funds rate is already effectively below zero, and it has been for some time. All the idiot pundits say, “you can’t go lower than zero,” but that’s just another one of their lies. Of course, you can go lower. The Europeans are below zero. That just means that either the central bank loans an extra fraction on top of the usual principal sum – at zero; or, it means that only a sub-one-hundred sum has to be repaid. Or, both. We’re there, because of the free easing and repo infusions; they bribe the banks to take the fake money with even more fake money.’

‘How can they continually print all the fake, er, the debt, uh money?’ the moderator asked.

‘It was once called the Mandrake Mechanism,’ Todd said. ‘That’s what Edward Griffin called the process – named after a cartoon magician, Mandrake – in his Creature from Jekyll Island book, a must-read. Based on growing debt demand from the federal government, the Fed manipulates the reserve requirements of the commercial banks to create additional private money – we’ll call it that, money – based on public-private debt. There used to be a ratio – nine to one or ten to one. For every dollar in public debt, they could technically manufacture another nine on the private side, though they didn’t always do it or have to. Now, that’s a thing of the past. There are, now, no reserves to manipulate. It’s all debt-based fakery and smoke, and now, they just print whenever and whatever they think will work. Or, that they think they can get away with. The government, secure with its never-ending pot of fool’s gold, is happy enough to never intervene – unless, as lately, they say, “print more!” The public is just too – what’s the word for it, Tom?’

‘Stupid,’ Tom said.

‘That’s the word!’ Todd replied. ‘Even as their relative incomes go down, and even as their purchasing power vanishes, even as they and their children become slaves to the money-lenders, the people are silent. They stay quiet because even though it’s all dearly bought with debt and more debt, at least they have their televisions, their smartphones, McDonald’s, their booze, and their pills to give them the illusion of partial prosperity. The self-delusion and the hedonism go hand-in-hand. That, and the failed schools Tom talks about, the moral decay, and all the other self-inflicted problems have brought us to a place where the people are happily menaced by Mencken’s imaginary hobgoblins. It’s ridiculous.’

‘How long do you think it can go on?’ asked another panelist in an N-95 mask.

‘No idea,’ Todd said. ‘I’m surprised it has lasted this long. The wizardry is powerful. But, sooner or later, maybe now, it has to end. Financial collapse, hopefully with a reset, a Biblical Jubilee.’

‘But, isn’t the government helping the little people with the thousand-dollar bonuses that they’re talking about?’ asked the masked woman.

‘That’s help we could do without. That’s an inflation catalyst. Besides, how, other than with more and more debt, do we pay for that?’ Todd answered and asked. ‘They’re talking about making it a yearly thing – the beginnings of universal basic income? More of the socialism that everyone suddenly likes but no-one understands. If they give it, take it. Maybe take the money and run. Fast.’

‘Doctor Ironsides, do you have any estimates on the greater geopolitical or the societal situation?’ the moderator asked.

‘I give us five, maybe ten years,’ Tom said.

‘And, then what?’ the other panelist asked.

‘Then, comes a breakup,’ Tom said. ‘Maybe it’ll come with that happy reset, a mere parting of the ways, but history dictates it will more likely involve a civil war. Multi-sided, short but nasty. I hope whoever gets to rebuild will at least do so with sound money.’

There was another pause and then Todd spoke: ‘And back to the fake money: most of it is electronic. It’s only a fraction that makes it into paper or metallic circulation. I haven’t checked lately, but we reached the point, some time ago, that making a coin cost more than the value of the coin – in terms of the value of the electronic currency, which we have established is itself worthless. I think it’s safe to conclude, in relative terms, that anything south of a five-dollar bill, is absolutely or even doubly worthless. And, we’ve lost all desire to combat the decline.

‘President Kennedy ordered, above the Fed’s angry objections, the last batch of real, literal United States Currency, ordered in the early Sixties and in circulation until Nixon’s decree or thereabouts. Rather than being styled Federal Reserve Notes, these bills were titled United States Dollars. They came directly from the Treasury. Old school style. We don’t do that anymore. Johnson, Nixon, and the rest learned the lesson after the Fed had Kennedy assassinated.’

Following a collective gasp, the moderator spoke: ‘Wow. Okay, I think we have a question. Sir?’

A portly, effeminate man approached the microphone and spoke through his mask: ‘Oh my, no. I had a- But now- Come on! I don’t really understand everything you just said, but the Federal Reserve would clearly never kill anyone. Actually, everyone knows that!’

‘I’ve killed people for them,’ Tom said with dead seriousness; ‘More than a few – aaack-tually. These modern-day serpents don’t aim to lose, but as Todd said, they’ve run the game about as far as it can go. Here’s an interesting way to frame some of this! While he was talking, I was playing with my calculator. A dollar bill is about six and one-eighth inches long. Three trillion of them, laid end-to-end, would reach from here to Mars and back again – two-hundred-eighty-four million miles long. Each bill weighs exactly one gram. So, in a great big stack, they weigh – hang on – they weigh three-point-three million tons! That’s like ten fully-loaded supertankers – full of electronic paper garbage. We’re being crushed by monopoly money, figuratively, maybe literally.

‘If that’s the price of buying stability today, whereas it only took a tenth of it to buy peace, six months before, then what’s it going to take tomorrow? How many zeroes do they have on their calculators?’

‘Not enough,’ Todd interjected, ‘especially if, or when, this level of fiat starts leaking out of the commercial banks, which it has too, like with the thousand-dollar bonuses. The resulting inflation will call for more money to combat, which will, in turn, make things even worse. Everything in the economy is based on fake debt. I say fake because they don’t ever loan any real value. They give hollow promises, and we give them slavery in return. The quote-unquote money for the loan is created by the loan itself. You school people are always babbling about equity these days, not quite, I think, understanding what that means. But, true equity would allow the borrower – and we’re all borrowers – to repay in exactly like kind. If they press a button for free cash, then we get to do the same in repayment. That would, of course, mean canceling all the debt out, which is just what is needed. That, and making usury a capital felony. We’re overdue for a Jubilee.

‘It’s really all the banks do with all the back and forth nightly loans. Why not let it apply to everyone? With all this free fake money flying around, why does no benefit from it ever go to genuine living humans? One, it’s because they hate us, and two, it’s because they’re desperately afraid of losing their power – which is all their sorry existence amounts to.’

‘And desperate people do desperate things,’ Tom added; ‘like killing people who get in the way. Or, say, manufacturing a crisis. Or, more likely, taking advantage of a natural crisis. You know, like a pandemic or something? My friends, not all wars are fought with bullets.’

Announcer: ‘We are being ordered to cut- We are leaving the National Education Conference in Pittsburgh so as to show our, uh, regularly-scheduled coverage of the White House Tour Office, which is closed, but in which men are currently steam-cleaning the carpet. Let’s watch that…’

 

After the panel prematurely concluded, in a hallway full of reporters in masks, policemen in masks, and health officials in NBC suits…

‘That was almost kind of fun, huh?’ Todd asked Tom.

‘Yes, it was!’ Tom said. ‘Now, I almost feel like walking around and punching some of these ridiculous facemasks. You wanna join me in a little mayhem?’

‘Think we just caused enough of that,’ Todd laughed. ‘But, I’m done for the day. All of us are, now, with the police dispersing the conference. There were more than ten of us. Anyway, how about we grab some green beers for the holiday – if inflation hasn’t made them too expensive – and you tell me about some of those bankster kills? Much as you’re comfortable with.’

‘I’m no longer comfortable with any of it – best forgotten. But, beer is a great idea! Put some social distance between us and these nuts.’ Tom said. ‘I saw a place around the corner overlooking the river – if it’s open. Are any bars left open?’

‘I know that place. Yeah, he’ll be open. Guy’s a rebel. Let’s go!’ Todd said. Then, as they started walking, he lowered his voice to a whisper: ‘Hey, rumor around the word processor has it that you’ve met him, you know, the big guy…’

‘Yeah,’ Tom said quietly, ‘he roped me into an interview’ – here he made air quotes – ‘in one of his idiotic columns ahead THE SUBSTITUTE. Very strange, the whole thing.’

‘You think the family and I will ever get a novel?’ Todd asked.

‘Probably depends on how much green beer he has…’

 

READ AT TPC

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TPC Preview and the Economy

16 Monday Mar 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in Legal/Political Columns, News and Notes, Other Columns

≈ Comments Off on TPC Preview and the Economy

Tags

Economic collapse, economy, Tom Ironsides, TPC

Greetings. I am putting the finishing touches on a TPC short story for broadcast tomorrow. It features Dr. Tom Ironsides! And, he and a friend you might remember will discuss current events. I’m still working on it, packing as much up-to-date-ness in as I can. I’ll let you in on the gist:

The US Economy is Probably in Full-scale Collapse.

In the morning, I’m making the same claim at FP, and Tom and Co. present as much tomorrow at TPC. You heard it first if you didn’t already know. I hope I’m wrong, but even if I am, then this is a good taste of “the big one.” This could be the chance to finally reset things. But, so far, our “leaders” have only exponentially increased the same insanity that brought us to this point; they’re using the Corona as the most convenient cover. Think of it this way: soon the bug will be a memory; but, when the toilet paper comes back to Walmart, it might cost $10 per roll and you might have been laid off.

I’ll feature the TPC bit, here, in full. We’ll try to have fun with it.

Now, let’s see, was today’s 3,000 the DOW drop, or the COVID increase…

Another Take on the Modern Schools

08 Sunday Mar 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in Other Columns

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Dorothy Sayers, education, schools, Tom Ironsides

“Is it not the great defect of our education to-day (—a defect traceable through all the disquieting symptoms of trouble that I have mentioned—) that although we often succeed in teaching our pupils “subjects,” we fail lamentably on the whole in teaching them how to think? They learn everything, except the art of learning.” – Dorothy L. Sayers, The Lost Tools of Learning.

It does sound a little like Tom Ironsides, no? Except, she said the above … in 1947. Read about the Tools.

 

 

 

The Return of Dr. Ironsides

03 Tuesday Mar 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in Books For Sale

≈ Comments Off on The Return of Dr. Ironsides

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Aurelius, novel, Tom Ironsides

Tom is coming back, in a new novella. I have just finished the first, rough draft of AURELIUS. I would list the anticipated publication date, but I thought it would already be out now. We’ll say a little later in 2020. It’s a prequel to THE SUBSTITUTE, set about a year before the events of that book, and a fast-paced action story. It’s much shorter than the SUB. And, it’s told in Tom’s first-person. You won’t want to miss it.

I also have, among many other projects, several additional works of fiction in various states of draftiness. Look for those when you see them.

I Think I Can Explain

24 Monday Feb 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in News and Notes

≈ Comments Off on I Think I Can Explain

Tags

China, Florida, spying, The Substitute, Tom Ironsides

A lot of Chinese spies tourists in Florida lately.

In total, four Chinese men have been arrested for trespassing and taking photos at Naval Air Station Key West since September 2018, and two Chinese women have been arrested for trespassing at Mar-a-Lago since March 2019.

“Coincidences take a lot of planning,” said Frank Figliuzzi, a former FBI assistant director for counterintelligence.

Maybe. Or maybe it’s all literary. I have no idea about Mar-a-Lago, but the NAS visitors obviously wanted to see where Tom Ironsides crashed that Dassault Falcon in Shaded of Cuba (THE SUBSTITUTE). Ever wonder where the plane came from? You’ll find out soon enough, along with whatever became of their passenger.

Feminism = Witchcraft = Satanism

14 Friday Feb 2020

Posted by perrinlovett in News and Notes

≈ Comments Off on Feminism = Witchcraft = Satanism

Tags

culture, decline, feminism, Satanism, society, The Substitute, Tom Ironsides, witches

Dr. Tom Ironsides has been proven correct once again; it’s like he and his author were on to something. The Atlantic, a magazine given to softly pushing the next great thing – cannibalism, has a new and exciting article on the rise of witchcraft in the remains of America.

“Witchcraft is feminism, it’s inherently political,” Gabriela Herstik, a witch and an author, told Sabat magazine. “It’s always been about the outsider, about the woman who doesn’t do what the church or patriarchy wants.”

Yes, witch, we know that. Rebellion against God, His Church, and His People. It affects everything in society, from the government, to the bar associations, to the public schools. Sayeth the Ironsides:

Later, he almost kicked himself: ‘“Feminists, queers, and globalists” would have been more accurate. Or, just “satanists…”’ He let it go. [THE SUBSTITUTE, Ch. 11]

Magical, huh?

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