The Fingerprint of Failure

Falling through the universe at the speed of life

By David Glenn Cox

Many years ago, I quit smoking cold turkey. As my tensions rose and my body cried out for a nicotine fix the only thing, I could tell myself was, if you smoke now, all that you have done will be wasted. You will have endured all of this for nothing. As the hours went by my determination grew. This sucked rocks, but I’ll be goddamned if I’ll ever go through this shit again! Smoke now and it’s pain with no gain. A psychological footnote to remind you of a failure and of your weakness. You don’t control the cigarettes, the cigarettes control you!

It’s seems Dr. Fauci won’t be striding the boards of the White House briefing room anymore. He won’t be boring us with his medical facts and knowledge and stuff. He has disagreed with the leader once too many times. Under the leadership or Fuhrer principle, the leader is always correct. If you discover that the leader is not correct and you have a problem with that, it’s you who must be removed. Thus, explains the White House H.R. problem from day one. It sets up like concrete, a few become a cadre surrounding Der leader singing sweet siren songs of success.

The Nazi’s 1942 campaign in the east was all about capturing the oil fields at Makop and Grozny. Stalingrad wasn’t a goal. The Germans were desperately short of oil, but the boss had an idea. Maybe we could split our forces and do both! The Dr. Fauci’s of their day were likewise quickly dispatched. Generals and know it all’s with their facts and figures and years of training muddling up the argument when the boss has a hunch. Finally, the Fuhrer principle is replaced by the Elvis principle; Whoever laughs loudest when Elvis tells a joke is the King’s best friend, especially when the jokes not funny.

The fingerprint of failure repeated over and over. The senior engineer at Morton Thiokol resigned rather than sign off on the Challenger launch, it’ll be alright the boss has a hunch; Taking an Ocean liner through a known Icefield at top speed at night to win the blue pennant for fastest trans-Atlantic crossing. The boss has a hunch, you won’t hit anything.

His simian lordship the Cheeto Bandito worries a falling stock market could hurt his re-election prospects. The time to worry about knocking the vase over is before it shatters on the floor. The horse is out of the barn. The whore is out of the house. But the boss has got a hunch… maybe if we dispense with social distancing and relax the protocols, everything will be alright again. People can go back to work, and a sense of normalcy will return, and everyone will be so happy going back to work that they’ll all vote for me…Donald Trump!

The vase is shattered, splinters stuck between the toes of our barefoot economy. These stock market crashes are expensive things what with margin calls and falling reserves. You can’t put that money back on the table, it’s gone. Oil is selling or not selling for $22.00 per barrel, two foreign governments are putting Americans out of work by the truck loads and destabilizing the financial markets. The orange one contemplates…now what can I do to get re-elected? Putin and Saudi Arabia have a free hand to do whatever the hell it is they want to do. The Cheeto won’t lift one orange finger to stop them, Putin wins again.

Sir Lies a lot, is concerned for his re-election, taking a mental detachment, a flight of fantasy. “Steward? Will lowering all these lifeboats delay our arrival in New York?”

Our gravest issue is a chief executive with an inability to judge fact. Easily swayed by opinions of those with vested interests. He’s unmolested by principles and ethics and rather than playing checkers when he should be playing chess, he’s masturbating under the table unaware a game is even in progress. With a childlike innocence which will kill thousands.

As I understand it, the virus hit our shores along the coasts, New York, Washington and California and will move inland. Look at the air routes of international travel and you can see the path of the virus. They found live virus on the Carnival cruise ship seventeen days later. Lifting the protocols is wasting all the pain we have endured for nothing. It’s like fixing the climate. If climate scientist are wrong, we’ve cleaned up our environment for nothing. But if we ignore them and they are correct, we’ve doomed ourselves to a nightmare scenario without correction.

The President is like a child thinking I can take half my medicine and still get well. Rather than living in the world of have too like the rest of us he lives in the world of wanna be. Then the automakers can build cars and ship them to dealerships where customers will wait anxiously to purchase them, and I’ll get re-elected! Paging Article twenty-five! Article twenty-five you have a phone call on the white courtesy phone. A chief executive ready to sentence thousands to an unnecessary death to try and save the stock market. “I don’t want to live in a world without 7/11’s!”

Wall Street calls them Zombie companies making profits because times are good and interest rates are low.  They are the high-risk patients to the economic virus. And all the king’s horses and all the ape’s men can’t put them back together again. The car has hit the garage door you can’t undent it. The Cheeto’s magical mystery tour where he pulls the drowning man from the water by his hair saving the day illustrates the detachment. He doesn’t get it…this is systemic.

The oil collapse, the stock market, the pandemic, healthcare, employment are all interconnected. To pull on one string pulls the others as well. To lower the protocol to help employment or the stock market dooms the rest. It is drilling a hole in the bottom of the boat to let the water out.

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