Over the weekend a fierce and savage cold front descended on New York City making outdoor excursions fit for neither man nor beast. It was the kind of crippling cold that makes you feel like you’ve just stepped out of the shower no matter how many layers of clothing you pile on. So, I decided to hunker down in the apartment.
By 2 a.m. Saturday, temperatures had dropped so low a piece of metal snapped off a window I was trying to close as if it were made of cheap Mexican plastic. I needed that window closed because with the apartment door open, it was creating a kind of wind tunnel effect through the kitchen, making it impossible to boil anything with the precision I required; a classic catch-22. If I closed the door my boiling would take on a proper rigor, but the deliveries from the pub downstairs would wake everyone up. If I left the door open the deliveries would function smoothly but the boiling would become haphazard and problematic, also waking everyone up. The situation demanded a compromise. So I turned the music up.
That’s how my weekend started, with a hard compromise. Two days later I’m sitting here still combing through the Special Inspector General’s report on the Troubled Asset Relief Program and I see the same game plan at work; when confronted with mutually exclusive and impossible-to-achieve objectives, turn the music up. It’s a type of fuzzy, 2 a.m. logic. It’s Washington logic.
Despite clocking in at 244 pages, the report is fairly breezy reading, but when I first came across it early Saturday I almost never made it to the second page. Something about the report’s cover stopped me cold.
But what? The logo was fairly routine for the government; a scale of weights and a skeleton key underneath some kind of perverted Confederacy stars and bars pattern. I asked the deliveryman from the bar his take on it.
“You see anything wrong with this?” I demanded, waving the cover page around.
“Just some of the glasses keep coming back broken, but — ”
“No, no,” I yelled. “This image. You see anything that looks… weird, out of place?”
He took the page, glanced at it and handed it back with a shrug.
“Two dollar bill,” he said flatly. “Means it’s fake.”
Enraged, I chased him out of the apartment, threading the closing elevator door’s needle with a well-thrown shoe; a small price to pay. He was right but for the wrong reason, and now he’d never know why, because sometimes a random show of force is needed to keep the delivery process on track.
Yes, that was it, alright. The American two-dollar bill, not exactly fake, but goofy, suitable only for birthday cards and broken down horse players. Was this supposed to be somebody’s idea of a sick joke? A 244-page report on a massive $700 billion government relief program illustrated by the corner of a $2 bill?
Perhaps there’s something else going on. On his next trip, my deliveryman apologized profusely for insulting the authenticity of the American $2 bill. “I’m Irish, you know, and we’re deeply suspicious of all forms of currency,” he said.
Briefly, in 2006, near the height of the credit bubble, savvy strip club owners across America began stocking up on two-dollar bills. “Strip clubs hand out $2 bills when they give customers their change, and the bills end up in dancers’ garters and bartenders’ tip jars,” USA Today reported at the time. “The entertainers love it because it doubles their tip money,” Angelina Spencer, a former stripper and executive director of the Association of Club Executives, an adult nightclub trade
group, told the newspaper.
But I digress.
See, I did comb through the report, all 244-pages of it, and there are literally dozens of fascinating paragraphs and charts, all explaining in great detail how the program functions and why, exactly, it doesn’t work; it’s a Calculus of Fools. While the word calculus may also mean a kidney stone or some kind of nasty gall bladder concretion, the word fool is straightforward enough. It’s either a lack of judgment or an outright deception. Take your pick.
From the Executive Summary:
“Despite the fact that the explicit goal of the Capital Purchase Program was to increase financing to US businesses and consumers, lending continues to decrease, month after month, and the TARP program designed specifically to address small-business lending — announced in March 2009 — has still not been implemented by Treasury.”
Of course, one of the main dilemmas here is that no matter how comprehensive it is, the TARP program can do little to end the vicious cycle of credit bubble corrections where lenders, having facilitated the bubble by relaxing lending standards too much, are forced as the bubble unwinds to tighten standards, which has the perverse effect of lowering overall credit quality.
What’s happening is that even as the goal of the CPP is to increase lending, the pool of available borrowers is shrinking, and this shrinkage is occurring from several different trigger points, including natural credit aversion and increased lending standards.
But let’s go back to this Capital Purchase Program for a moment, because the purpose of the program and the mechanics of how it’s working are instructive on a couple of different levels.















Fat Cat Bankers, the Pimps of Wall Street . . . The New American Dream . . . Fear & Apathy on Club Rancho Drive . . . We Got the Money, It’s the Wealth That’s Missing . . . Mackin’ Ain’t Easy
1. The Economic Crisis Takes a Virulent Turn
Here it is updated.
3. DeMark Indicator Update



