Editor’s note: Michael Ackley’s columns may include satire and parody based on current events, and thus mix fact with fiction. He assumes informed readers will be able to tell which is which.
“Come in!” called the jaunty voice of Howard Bashford.
We had knocked on his office door shortly after Barack Obama assumed the presidency in 2009, with the mandate of heaven and a solidly Democrat- controlled Congress.
Now, eight years later, we were back to see what Bashford, the nation’s first secretary of the Currency, had to say about his tenure and its impact on the American economy.
We entered the lush quarters, but Bashford was nowhere to be seen. We stood some moments in the doorway of the dimly lit, dark-paneled office, perplexed at its apparent vacancy. As our eyes adjusted to the darkness, we realized that some sections of the walls were stacked to the coffered ceiling with what appeared to be bales of forest-green paper, and, on closer examinations, these proved to be United States currency.
“Take a chair,” came Bashford’s voice, and we stepped toward the occupant’s massive desk, behind which we spied his dark-trousered posterior. The secretary was kneeling at the grate of his office fireplace, stuffing greenbacks under what would be a handsome, log fire.
“Just need to take the chill off,” he said cheerfully, striking a match and setting the paper alight. He rose and pulled a screen into place as the flames leaped up.
“Nice to see you again,” he said, turning and extending a rather sooty hand across the desk top. “Please, take a chair. Just brush that stuff onto the carpet; the sweeper will pick it up later.”
The “stuff” was a pile of newly printed money, but we complied by dumping it onto the floor and sitting down.
“Can I offer you anything?” Bashford asked graciously, “A drink? A snack? A trillion dollars?”
“The dollar is what I came to talk over with you,” we said. “It seems …”
“Today’s dollar or yesterday’s dollar, or tomorrow’s dollar?” Bashford interrupted.
“The dollar,” we said.
“I’m sorry,” said the secretary. “The dollar has no relevance, as its definition changes from day to day – hour to hour, really. Here, let me give you $2 trillion. Please! It’s no trouble at all. No? Well, think about it, anyway.”
“You know, it’s funny,” Bashford continued, “but since the president’s programs took hold – after George W. Bush helped lay the groundwork – we’ve had more money than ever. Why, the gross domestic product has gone through the roof. We hardly have enough zeros to measure it, and it’s all because of the foresight of our leaders eight years ago.”
We had a lot of questions to ask, but Bashford was on a roll, so we let him expatiate.
He said, “Think about it. We started with a couple of trillion bucks in late 2008 and early 2009, ‘lending’ money to banks and automobile manufacturers, and then to mortgage holders, and then to the construction industry … and the stock market rebounded. Firms started hiring again; people were happy.
“So we launched a huge, public-works program – another couple of trillion – and put even more people to work, and we expanded the government payroll to administer the huge influx of tax dollars from the income this generated and …”
At this point we did interrupt, “Where did all this money come from, Mr. Secretary?”
“Come from?” Bashford was nonplussed. “Come from? Why it came from where money always comes from. It came from Congress. It allocated it, and we, the administration, used it to do good works.”
“Where did Congress get the money?” we asked.
“Where …?” Bashford clearly was irritated. “What do you mean, ‘where’? Congress allocated it.”
“OK, Mr. Secretary, let’s get down to cases,” we said. “What about inflation?”
“Inflation, inflation. What about inflation?” Bashford pondered the question, then brightened. “Oh, you mean the Great Leveler. Why, before we had what you call inflation, our society was stratified. Let me explain: It means some people had more money than others. Now, no matter how much money anybody has, nobody has more than anybody else – in terms of purchasing power.
“Isn’t it wonderful? We’re all rich!”
“Rich?” we asked, “rich like Zimbabwe.”
“Oh, come now,” said Bashford patronizingly. “You’re just looking at the dark side of it. By destroying the upper class …”
“And the middle class, by wiping out savings and investment,” we interjected.
“OK, OK,” said Bashford, annoyed. “By wiping out all classes, we’ve totally leveled the economic playing field. Sure we’ve topped Zimbabwe’s inflation rate of more than 10 million percent, but we have a ways to go before we beat 1923 Germany’s rate of over 30 million percent.”
“Mark my words,” he chuckled.
When we didn’t find this risible, Bashford explained, “Mark , get it. It’s a currency joke.”
He glanced at his watch and said, “Look, I have to get over to Treasury. We have to decide just how many zeros we can get on our next batch of bills.”
As we rose to leave, the secretary came around the desk and tried to press a bundle of currency into our hands.
“Please,” he said. “Take a few trillion. Really, it’s nothing.”
