The essential lunacy of what we have done to our economic system is illustrated well enough by the simple lede in a Reuter's market story:

"U.S. stock index futures rose slightly on Friday as Greece asked the European Union and International Monetary Fund to trigger an aid package in what could be the largest state bailout ever attempted."

Translation: Greece borrowed until its creditors had no more chance of repayment that you do of ever seeing that $500 you loaned you brother-in-law back in 1984. So the world will loan Greece some more money in hopes that a miracle will occur before anyone notices the (a) resultant inflation of currencies and (b) irony of adding to debt to retire debt.

You say it makes you uncomfortable to have the value of your hundred shares of SWHC dependant on things like what Greek pols decide to spend to support the crucial grape leaf industry? Me too, except I own, Thank God, no SWHC. I have others that the Greeks and Tim G. are fubaring, however.

Encore

Some reader comments just demand reprinting above the fold. TJP writes:

Congress isn't so much exercising a power to tax to the ends of its constitutional duties as it is extorting an allowance to use at its sole discretion.

Tracking the enemy

It can be challenging to keep track of some old presidential buddies after the sting that exposed Acorn's love for helping hookers and pimps launder money. The nutty bunch is quick-stepping all over the place, rebranding itself under a variety of names.

But Matthew Vadum is trying, and he has a list of some of Acorn's new AKAs.

Two and oh

It may be a little gauche to post about strictly personal affairs, but I have just scored twice against the retail automobile establishment, and that's newsworthy.

The new F150 clutch didn't hold up under even the light use I've made of it for the 4,000 miles since the the $1,350 repair job, and I was being set up to pay for the entire replacement cost. The installing dealer blamed me and the clutch manufacturer. The clutch maker blamed me and/or the installers. Serious negotiation ensued with a certain firmness on the part of yours truly. ("Pardner, a new clutch on a four-by-four truck ought to be all but immune to even an intentional effort to burn the SOB out just to see what a melted clutch smells like.") A letter with an undertone of "also got a lawyer in my back pocket" may have helped. I'll get the job done for the clutch-kit cost. The dealer will eat the labor. Not perfect , but better than I expected without a good deal more hassle.

Smaller but still satisfying: At the quickie lube center today the bill for routine van service looked a little high. I found a six-buck bite for a new oil plug. The lad in charge and I performed an autopsy on the old plug and then engaged in a deep philosophical discussion. In due course he agreed it wasn't stripped at all and the slight rounding of the hex head might have resulted from his man's use of a wrench one millimeter too large. He seemed relieved that I left smiling after saying I bore him no hard feelings for trying to follow the owner's marketing orders.

It's scummy industry, and it feels kind of good to evade two stabs at sodomy in the same day.