Hans Baldung:
Group of Seven Horses
(1534)

The next few Comeuppance Stories will focus on Stages of Obsolescence. I believe our incumbent has essentially spent his wad, largely on what history will probably consider to have been candy and gum rather than anything substantial. This pattern seems perfectly congruent with our incumbent’s historical behaviors, only even more so. The first stage of obsolescence might always be a sort of inadvertent overreach, where what once naturally fell well within grasp can no longer be held. The world starts losing her handles. Whether the following Comeuppance becomes a comedy or a tragedy might depend upon pre-existing conditions. I can’t see this incumbent slinking gently into any inevitable night. He’ll probably insist upon performing every stage of obsolescence under spotlights. Lucky us, I guess, or something.

“It’s tough to maintain decorum under those sorry conditions.”

It was supposed to be different this time. The reportedly new and vastly improved Incumbent 2.0 would not be a prototype, for he was experienced and rested after his second term was so rudely interrupted and stolen from him. He would surely put the system right again, redress remaining grudges, and pardon persecuted patriots. Whether Elon actually managed to manipulate electronic votes or he won fair and nearly square, I don’t care. He was duly sworn in to assume stewardship of what the world at that time agreed amounted to an economic miracle. He assumed responsibility for what was then the genuine envy of the economic world. What was advertised as the greatest thing since sliced bread hardly qualified as a stale cracker in practice, though, as he focused almost exclusively upon the economically irrelevant or worse. His cryptocurrency launch on the eve of his inaugural prefaced what would shortly become a term of, for, and apparently solely about him and his minions. Damned the American people, full speed backward!

As has so often been the case in our incumbent’s history, his early successes backfired. What was supposed to jump-start what he’d called a lagging economy only weighed it down, with a few notable exceptions. Increasing volatility made even traditional safe-haven stocks too toxic for most to even distantly consider investing their hard-earned savings. The smartest money, gauged by the magnitude of immediate returns, was, predictably, in retrospect, only with the goldbugs, who always, always, always first anticipate the scent of apocalyptic horsemen. The price of gold exploded. This indicator has never been a positive one, because gold and other commodities are not what anybody should consider investments for the future. They serve as havens, speculations, and parking places until actual growth opportunities emerge. Sure, one might make a lot of money waiting, but gold serves as little more than an economic parking lot. Making money in gold serves nobody but the goldbug. It’s the quintessential anti-social investment instrument. Assuming there’s even an economy around later, the goldbug will have capital to invest in an actual enterprise; otherwise, they possess little more than an ultimately useless Midas Touch.

The earliest indicators screamed that our incumbent’s economy would be exclusively focused on the already rich and famous. It would be a headline-seeking economy best appreciated without reading the underlying story back on page fifteen. Hopping from headline to headline, the first few months of this incumbent’s reign were continually screaming something, declaring another unlikely success. Each pinnacle soon disappeared from the front page, never to return in its original form. Each lofty promise soon crashed and often burned shortly after launch. Most didn’t last until the middle of the following week. What might have seemed like momentum wasn’t. It was entirely due to the burning principle rather than from amplifying any return. Funding appeared as if by magic in mind-bending volumes, none of it properly appropriated. It was quite literally stolen from allocations mandated by Congress, and without their consent. It was always easiest to spend like a drunken sailor when spending somebody else’s—like the People’s—money.

The tariffs started the explicit disintegration. He had dabbled in tariff rhetoric during his campaign, but few could imagine taking him terribly seriously. Hadn’t we collectively learned that lesson near the start of the Great Depression? Had we not outgrown that myopic worldview that supposed we could engage in zero-sum trade wars? Could he not see our great and abiding positive trade deficits for what they actually were, the very wealth of the world economy? Apparently not, but this was the first volley in what would inevitably, inescapably become his economic Comeuppance. It couldn’t help but become that, declaring designs upon Canada’s sovereignty, for goodness’ sake! It seemed as though his self-proclaimed reign might prove tolerable until he committed what I suppose had to be his inevitable. He instilled the single greatest tax increase in the history of our economy and praised himself for it. The differences were irreconcilable then, non-negotiable. He had successfully made himself public enemy number one in under three months. The balance of his term, however long, would be dedicated to Comeuppance.

This might be how obsolescence always arrives, via innocent or ignorant overreach. For most of us, we just engaged as we always had, but with an inexplicably elderly body. We stumble and suffer the rough equivalent of a broken hip, and then we will never be able to tango the way we used to again. Good riddance, old friend. Most of us eventually catch on that obsolescence might be the underlying purpose of our suddenly arrived at stage of life. No reassuring wisdom or salvation comes; just seemingly undeserved obsolescence while we’re still in the middle of making something of ourselves. In most ways, this first stage of obsolescence isn’t all that dramatic. It just happens. Our incumbent wasn’t getting any younger the first time he ran for office. He became decrepit between elections, while barking at his predecessor and better about their declining cognitive power. It was all a feint; it seemed to draw attention away from his own obsolescence. That first stage almost always misleads.

We, The People, now have every reason to wonder why we ever thought sliced bread was superior, and whether any candidate can ever again run on the promise that they’re better than that once-paragon of greatness. Now, The People clamor for artisan loaves, the kinds they have to slice themselves. What was once the exemplar of modernity seems almost quaint now, a definite sign of societal decline: industrial food. The lies that worked so well last time have lost most of their power. He uses the same metaphors after the underlying context has changed. His proclamations now waver between unbelievable and absurd, with absurdity increasingly leading the chase. He still struts around, or at least tries to, in a body no longer suited for strutting. He’s the last one to notice how the seat of his well-tailored pants holds the outline of his industrial-strength adult diaper reeking beneath. It’s tough to maintain decorum under those sorry conditions.

©2026 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #Comeuppance, #PureSchmaltz