Under the terms thrust upon us in 1789, when this newspaper was well into its thirty-third year of publication, the responsibility for keeping the federal government honest lies with a free and independent press. As the last remaining example of that species, we had best get cracking.
The current state of affairs is, shall we say, somewhat less than optimal. In fact, as we scan the horizon, we are reminded of Hercules, tasked with removing thirty years of accumulated filth from the Augean stables, and given but a single day to do it.
Fortunately we have fifty-two days to put the ship of state in order: this edition, and the three to follow. A daunting task, to be sure, but our faith sustains us; every day, in thought, if not in song, our newsroom echoes with the hymn, “Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life.”
This goal must be achieved—or, to give us a little wiggle room, at least approximated—before the new administration takes power. It will establish a baseline against which we can measure the changes which are sure to come.
This may all seem hyperbolic, but let us recall: every branch of the federal government now favors the wealthy over the workers. For generations now, it’s been wave over wave of tax cuts for the rich and austerity for the rest. The right’s rallying cry never changes, but the promised prosperity never arrives. One has to wonder—how much more blood can be wrung from these same stones?
The prices of meat, potatoes, and sugar—the holy trinity of the American diet—have all gone through the roof lately. The CEO of the second-largest seller of frozen spuds boasted that his company’s net income was up 111 percent due to “pricing actions.” Lawsuits allege that price-fixing is rampant—but help is on the way! In two separate cases, a grocery chain and a class-action lawsuit will attempt to do battle against armies of lawyers for four corporations which together control 95 percent of the $68 billion frozen potato market. Good luck to them, because they’ll need plenty of it.
Not everyone eats meat and potatoes, but who doesn’t want a roof over his or her head? These have become harder than ever to obtain.
These essential barriers to the elements are acquired though the “housing market”—a sacred institution, apparently. Within its confines ordinary people find themselves going up against piles of money. These piles are ultimately owned by humans, of course, but they’ve been carefully wrapped in legal language to obscure ownership. Where a quaint “family unit” might struggle to scratch together enough to stake their claim to an inhabitable hovel, a “private equity firm” can fairly easily cordon off a whole swath of homes, so as to add its profit to a family’s monthly expenses.
It’s all perfectly legal, proper, and above board—just ask any of the beneficiaries of such schemes, like our incoming governor.
One might think that the federal government would and should have the power to prevent this sort of extortion before they got out of hand. One might as well think that in golden days of yore, unicorns daintily trotted across bosky dells to lay their heads in the laps of fair maidens.
We may not be able, before January 20th, to correct the wrongs of the past half-century and more. In fact, the smart money would say it’s an idiotic proposition. There is nothing to stop us, though, from imagining what that might look like. Not yet, anyway.
After January 20th… well, even that freedom will be open to question. In the eyes of the new boss, we’re the enemy of the state—and, of course, l’etat cest lui.
We are not so puffed-up that we believe the president-elect has his piggy little eyes on us. We probably have our share of delusions, but that is not among them. We do know, though, that he hates this whole industry, and seems to see no reason why he shouldn’t try to use the federal government to crush it if he can.*
The ironies of the nation’s current condition are beyond cruel—they’re positively sadistic. One party, full of W.B. Yeats’ passionate intensity, created the situation in which we’ve become trapped: the government’s too broke to give ordinary people what they want, or even what they desperately need. “If the public has a need,” goes their thinking, “there’s a corporation to fill it. For a market-competitive price, of course.”
The other party has lacked the conviction to defend its own policies—perplexing, since they were what created our comfortable, if short-lived, middle class. Some members were paralyzed by the fear of being labeled a “godless communist.” Others joined Milton Friedman’s cult, which had no problem treating “the market” as if it were a golden calf. Either way they’re now mostly funded by the same economic stratum as their opponents, leading to the same outcomes.
Soon this whole shebang will be in the tiny hands of a huckster not even Mark Twain could ever have imagined. The professional wrestlers are taking control of political arena—literally, in the case of the Department of Education.
What will we do? What can we do? Scribble from the sidelines, while ducking folding chairs.
* Just imagine… what an ignominious fate: the Nation’s Oldest Newspaper,™ crushed under an elevator shoe.