Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Bernank-Eyed Peas

I‘VE ALWAYS MAINTAINED that the American public needs to have a basic understanding of economics, and not simply Monetarist ideas about controlling the money supply or Keynesian notions of how to stimulate aggregate demand. Now, I could drop the ill shit on reduced-form wage adjustments, then perpetrate some aggregate supply equations for that ass, but it’s not my job.

Enter the Black-Eyed Peas! You know the gang: Fergie, will.i.am, that curious hypeman of indeterminate Afro/Asian stock, and there’s also one other guy. With their mega-hit “I Gotta Feeling,” the Peas hit the nail on the proverbial head with respect to what needs to happen in this country economically. We don’t need to postpone our choices. We need to live! Tonight! I know you will have some difficult decisions to make. Player, I do too. We just gotta make ‘em. Peep this, yo:

I gotta feeling, that tonight’s gonna be a good night
That tonight’s gonna be a good night
That tonight’s going to be a good, good night…

You’re starting to feel it, aren’t you? The opening stanza is almost hypnotic in its repetition, reminding us that we’re going to be all right. Indeed, that tonight is going to be a good night. And look at Fergie’s lady lumps! That booty still makes me want to slap my Momma. (Unless Fergie is referring to breast lumps, in which case, I recommend she visit an oncologist. Or I can check her—Snaps!)

Now, I know for most of you, the idea of spending the summer in Gstaad has gone the way of so much shit. (Alas, we Bernankes are also tightening our belts: It looks like July in Zermatt.) Of course, your pension has disintegrated, and you’ll have to continue working until your last thanatoid gurgle. Your savings are also shrinking like a bitch-made chump peeping me ghost-riding my whip, as interest rates fall below the rate of inflation. Trust me, none of that ought to affect your day-to-day expenditures, or your street cred.

Tonight’s the night, let’s live it up
I got my money, let’s spend it up
Go out and smash it, like oh my God
Jump off that sofa, let’s get get … off

Now that’s a sentiment I can sink my ice trays into. Livin’ it up, pumping some cash back into this broke-ass economy. I’m a little unclear on what we’ll be smashing, though (Interest rates? Asymmetric monetary approaches to asset froth? Furniture?). But do indeed GET OFF THAT SOFA! You’re gonna snap the Louis XVI cabrioles off my good shit. Motherfuckers, this isn’t Pier One! I thought you knew.

All right, now grip this full, y’all: To avoid budget deficits, we’re going to have to choose between higher taxes, changes to Social Security and Medicare, less spending on everything else from education to defense—sort of an economic Hobson’s Choice—and I know this, man. Just relax your mouth and pick up the knowledge the Peas are putting down: Go spend that cheddar, because bet: I can print more. (O.K., we don’t actually print anymore, but a few keystrokes on my Mac and we got several hundred billion more dollars to buy Treasury bonds, biatch!)

Now, I know I’m going to be stepped to by everyone saying I’m promoting a Weimar economic policy and debauching our dollar, and I resent all that player-hating. I know what I’m doing. But, before we move further, and since we’re hovering around that area, I do have two bits of constructive criticism for the Peas:

Fill up my cup (Drink)
Mazel tov! (L’Chaim!)
Look at her dancing (Move it, Move it)
Just take it off

1. I can get down with a Kiddush cup of Manischewitz, but I worry the otherwise inspirational celebratory oaths of “Mazel Tov” and L’Chaim” may confuse Jewish children and cause them to imbibe too early in life. Such a mistake could doom our youths to second-class educations at schools like Vassar, or God forbid, Tulane. Just two weeks ago, I saw two beyarmulked tweens with a serious lean on at the Stark Bat Mitzvah in Temple Emanu-El. “I Gotta Feeling” was pulsing ad infinitum from D.J. Ice-berg’s system … just saying).

2. How much more clothes can you take off Fergie before the censors weigh in? You can almost see the periurethral glands on that shapely shiksa! L’Chaim to that no doubt, players.

Let’s paint the town
We’ll shut it down
Let’s burn the roof
And then we’ll do it again

Now feel me, and feel the Peas. I like the sound of painting the town. Painting the town creates jobs and good times, assuming you don’t select a taupe. So, we’re going to shut it down, y’all. And God I hope that means the Merrill/BoA investigation. As for another recession: Please. The only double dippin’ I want to see in this economy is all of us out there in our ‘Lacs, riding dirty (but not Goldman-Sachs dirty).

Oh, yeah. And the roof. Let’s burn the roof, fo’ sho. Actually, not only is the roof is already on fire, the China bubble looks primed to burst. You see? No need to trip! Yeah, the roof is on fire, but we don’t want no water, let the motherfucker burn.

And then we’ll do it again…

Described as an “up-and-coming humorist” by Esquire, Tyler Stoddard Smith’s works have been featured in: The McSweeney’s Joke Book of Book Jokes, The Best American Fantasy, Esquire, Meridian, Opium, Pindeldyboz, Identity Theory, Yankee Pot Roast, Word Riot, Barrelhouse, Monkeybicycle, Johnny America and McSweeney’s, among others. He is also a regular contributor at The Nervous Breakdown and edits a political satire Web site, www.demockeracy.com. In addition, he serves as an associate editor of the online humor site, The Big Jewel. Visit his Web site at http://tylerstoddardsmith.wordpress.com/.

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