Dec 2005
The Latin "panem et circenses" (literally "bread and circuses") is a derogatory phrase which can describe either government policies to pacify the citizenry, or the shallow, decadent desires of that same citizenry. In both cases, it refers to low-cost, low-quality, high-availability food and entertainment.
– Wikipedia
As you probably know, Thanksgiving is followed by the busiest shopping day of the year."Black Friday" is widely known as such because it is the first day of the year for many retailers to book a profit. They make a loss on the first ten months and then clean up in the final stretch. That's the plan, at least.
Following this year's Black Friday, a story was reported under the waggish headline: "Season's Beatings." At a South Florida electronics store with a deliciously awful name—BrandsMart USA—a 73-year-old woman was trampled. According to the local paper, "The crowd of shoppers...angry at being forced to wait by security personnel...pushed their way under the security gate and down a hallway into the store."
'Crowd' is an overly polite choice of words in this case; 'Mob' would probably be more accurate. Poor Josephine Hoffman, the 73-year-old in question, never stood a chance. "I was trying to get out of the way, but they knocked me down," she said. "I hit my head on the floor, and people stepped on me...I don't understand why people do these things."
Apparently they do it for the discounts. The mob knew that Black Friday would be chock full of bargains, and there was no time for civility - even if someone's grandmother had to pay the price.
"There is more than enough for everybody. The sale is going on all day," a BrandsMart manager shouted. "We have your money out here. We need to go to other stores," an angry mob leader shouted back.
In other words, "We've got the bread. Now give us our damn circuses." Panem Et Circenses.
"Dear Lord," your editor mutters to himself."Are these people even human? All that's missing are the bearskin pelts and bones in their noses. Like the raiding hordes… Visigoths sacking the coliseum."
We may not be reliving the last days of Ancient Rome, but it sure feels like it. If Juvenal were here, he'd be quoting Yogi Berra: "Déjà vu all over again." The sacking of BrandsMart has transfixed us.
But why are the parallels so striking? And seemingly so ubiquitous?
It is not just the wolven shoppers howling for discounts that intrigue us, but also the rivers of "bread," i.e. paper money, flowing through the streets. Goldman Sachs is reportedly handing out more than $500,000 worth of Christmas bonuses per employee. Corporations in general are embarking on the grandest series of dividend payouts and share buybacks in financial history. American consumers withdrew $600 billion from their homes in 2004 - and likely a good chunk more in 2005. Emperors of old juiced the money supply by reducing precious metal content in the coins. How easy the job becomes when there is no content at all!
More convenient still, Fed Chairman Nero (aka Ben Bernanke) has stated in advance his willingness to fiddle while Rome burns. "The contrast between the 1970s and today is very marked," our Financial Caesar informs us. "Back then, we had high inflation expectations." (As if there are no such expectations today, good Caesar? Someone kindly inform the gold market.)
The curiosities continue to pile up... Yet another oddity is the strange turn the media has taken. Everywhere you look, the establishment press seem to be singing the same tune. USA Today has baldly compared America to Ancient Rome. The Washington Post recently spoke of financial MADness, drawing on the selfsame analogy employed by us six months ago. And just this week, the Financial Times declared, "Decadent America must give up Imperial Ambitions." Why? Too expensive, of course. Sound familiar?
All this is more than enough to raise an eyebrow. With the price of gold around $500 as of this writing, it is enough to raise two eyebrows. But a piece de resistance is still needed. To really send a shiver up the spine—to get that eerie feeling of twilight in the bones—a mysterious sign is required. Some innocuous, yet portentous omen that highlights recent events, hints at the future, and speaks truth to power, preferably all at the same time. This Associated Press snippet does the trick:
Nov 28th, Washington. A basketball-sized piece of marble molding fell from the façade over the entrance to the Supreme Court, landing on the steps near visitors waiting to enter the building. No one was injured when the stone fell.
If only stones could talk. What might this one say? If it were a particularly erudite stone, perhaps it would whisper poetry into attentive ears.
I am Ozymandias, King of Kings. Look upon my works, Ye Mighty, and Despair.
