Oil above $100. Inflation stuck above target. Political pressure on the Federal Reserve. Powell’s final press conference confirmed the stagflation trap.
I, unluckily, understood this at first reading. Powell achieved several good things under Biden and the Trump, only to be dismissed by that narcissist. Now, whom is that Blob going to blame for the next catastrophe?
I’m glad this one is easier to quickly understand.
Powell held the institutional line longer than most people expected. That’s something history will remember.
I believe he will blame the American people.
Call the election rigged, question who the “real Americans” are, and the republican party will quickly move on from this disgraceful era that will never be forgotten
Really impressive analysis. Disclaimer, I share most of your frameworks, so it's a confirmation bias ( i learned about Howe thought , thanks for that).
Mainly Logo, and just enough pathos so this is not boring. Hardly believe you are only 22 !
I shared my age openly even though many will use it as a reason to dismiss the analysis. But we need political figures and analysts who will actually be alive when the effects of today’s decisions are felt. That’s part of why I started writing in the first place.
Ahéheʼe. Incredibly well-done. I'm remarkably impressed by your thorough understanding of concepts at age 22 that I, myself, don't fully comprehend at 34. I'm so glad you reached out and shared this with me. I will be following along.
The analysis on stagflation and the Federal Reserve's response is incredibly well-researched. The data you present on bond markets and global trends is eye-opening.
Sennaya wakes before the sun. Cold air. Wet cobblestone. The sour-sweet smell of hay, cabbage, cheap bread, and horse sweat. The line forms before the carts arrive. A woman in a frayed shawl counts worn coins twice and still comes up short. A hollow-eyed boy watches the butcher scrape the last gray ribbon of fat from a bone. A man with cracked hands stands too long in one place, waiting for work that isn’t coming. Nobody calls this history. This is just morning.
A kitchen girl stands in that line. Thin coat. Red hands. Breath showing in the cold. She hears it plain. Bread is short again. Prices jumped overnight. Someone’s cousin didn’t come back from the front. A rumor about flour trains that never arrived. She doesn’t argue. She listens. Then she turns and walks.
From Sennaya to the narrow service gate.
Through the iron gate to the dim basement corridors.
From the basement to the heat and noise of the kitchen.
She works inside the palace.
Polished floors reflect chandeliers like still water. Felt pads whisper across parquet. Boots are brushed until they shine. Silver trays catch candlelight. Steam rises from heavy pots. Knives strike wood in steady rhythm. She moves through it with lowered eyes, steady hands. She stands in rooms where decisions are made and says nothing. She hears everything. She keeps one sentence and lets the rest fall away.
From the girl to the cook.
“Bread’s tighter in Sennaya.”
The cook wipes his hands on a stained cloth, frowns, says nothing for a beat.
From the cook to the footman.
“They’re lining up before dawn now.”
The footman straightens a cuff, smooths his coat, nods once.
From the footman to the chambermaid.
“They’re restless out there.”
The chambermaid pauses with a folded sheet, eyes narrowing.
From the chambermaid to the lady-in-waiting.
“It’s getting worse in the city.”
The lady-in-waiting lowers her voice, adjusts a ribbon, chooses her words.
From the lady-in-waiting to the Empress.
“People are unsettled.”
Each step cleans it. Each step shortens it. Each step makes it safe.
On Gorokhovaya Street, Grigori Rasputin listens. A cramped room. Heavy curtains. Worn chair. The air thick with candle wax and damp wool. Servants come without their uniforms, coats smelling of smoke, onions, soap, and cold air. They bring fragments—kitchen talk, corridor whispers, a glance from a room where someone didn’t sleep.
A girl stands in the doorway longer than she should, twisting her hands, eyes lowered. He doesn’t rush her. He doesn’t interrupt. He lets the silence settle until it presses the words out of her.
He smells the smoke in her clothes before she speaks.
He takes it in. Holds it longer than anyone else will. Turns it. Softens it. Gives it back changed.
Not bread lines.
Not prices.
Meaning.
Warning.
Faith.
From Rasputin to the Empress.
“They are troubled, but they remain loyal.”
She believes it. She needs it to be true.
From the Empress to the Tsar.
“Russia is strained, but it stands with you.”
Nicholas reads it behind glass. Thick carpets. Tall windows. Heavy silence. Reports come the same way—inked pages, careful summaries, measured words. Unrest, yes—but contained. Agitators, perhaps—but manageable.
I, unluckily, understood this at first reading. Powell achieved several good things under Biden and the Trump, only to be dismissed by that narcissist. Now, whom is that Blob going to blame for the next catastrophe?
Hi Rosa,
I’m glad this one is easier to quickly understand.
Powell held the institutional line longer than most people expected. That’s something history will remember.
I believe he will blame the American people.
Call the election rigged, question who the “real Americans” are, and the republican party will quickly move on from this disgraceful era that will never be forgotten
Big sigh! Let's hope this runs the Obese Orange to ground.
Really impressive analysis. Disclaimer, I share most of your frameworks, so it's a confirmation bias ( i learned about Howe thought , thanks for that).
Mainly Logo, and just enough pathos so this is not boring. Hardly believe you are only 22 !
Hi Luc Lucid, thank you for the kind words!
I shared my age openly even though many will use it as a reason to dismiss the analysis. But we need political figures and analysts who will actually be alive when the effects of today’s decisions are felt. That’s part of why I started writing in the first place.
Ahéheʼe. Incredibly well-done. I'm remarkably impressed by your thorough understanding of concepts at age 22 that I, myself, don't fully comprehend at 34. I'm so glad you reached out and shared this with me. I will be following along.
The analysis on stagflation and the Federal Reserve's response is incredibly well-researched. The data you present on bond markets and global trends is eye-opening.
S-E-N-N-A-Y-A
Sennaya wakes before the sun. Cold air. Wet cobblestone. The sour-sweet smell of hay, cabbage, cheap bread, and horse sweat. The line forms before the carts arrive. A woman in a frayed shawl counts worn coins twice and still comes up short. A hollow-eyed boy watches the butcher scrape the last gray ribbon of fat from a bone. A man with cracked hands stands too long in one place, waiting for work that isn’t coming. Nobody calls this history. This is just morning.
A kitchen girl stands in that line. Thin coat. Red hands. Breath showing in the cold. She hears it plain. Bread is short again. Prices jumped overnight. Someone’s cousin didn’t come back from the front. A rumor about flour trains that never arrived. She doesn’t argue. She listens. Then she turns and walks.
From Sennaya to the narrow service gate.
Through the iron gate to the dim basement corridors.
From the basement to the heat and noise of the kitchen.
She works inside the palace.
Polished floors reflect chandeliers like still water. Felt pads whisper across parquet. Boots are brushed until they shine. Silver trays catch candlelight. Steam rises from heavy pots. Knives strike wood in steady rhythm. She moves through it with lowered eyes, steady hands. She stands in rooms where decisions are made and says nothing. She hears everything. She keeps one sentence and lets the rest fall away.
From the girl to the cook.
“Bread’s tighter in Sennaya.”
The cook wipes his hands on a stained cloth, frowns, says nothing for a beat.
From the cook to the footman.
“They’re lining up before dawn now.”
The footman straightens a cuff, smooths his coat, nods once.
From the footman to the chambermaid.
“They’re restless out there.”
The chambermaid pauses with a folded sheet, eyes narrowing.
From the chambermaid to the lady-in-waiting.
“It’s getting worse in the city.”
The lady-in-waiting lowers her voice, adjusts a ribbon, chooses her words.
From the lady-in-waiting to the Empress.
“People are unsettled.”
Each step cleans it. Each step shortens it. Each step makes it safe.
On Gorokhovaya Street, Grigori Rasputin listens. A cramped room. Heavy curtains. Worn chair. The air thick with candle wax and damp wool. Servants come without their uniforms, coats smelling of smoke, onions, soap, and cold air. They bring fragments—kitchen talk, corridor whispers, a glance from a room where someone didn’t sleep.
A girl stands in the doorway longer than she should, twisting her hands, eyes lowered. He doesn’t rush her. He doesn’t interrupt. He lets the silence settle until it presses the words out of her.
He smells the smoke in her clothes before she speaks.
He takes it in. Holds it longer than anyone else will. Turns it. Softens it. Gives it back changed.
Not bread lines.
Not prices.
Meaning.
Warning.
Faith.
From Rasputin to the Empress.
“They are troubled, but they remain loyal.”
She believes it. She needs it to be true.
From the Empress to the Tsar.
“Russia is strained, but it stands with you.”
Nicholas reads it behind glass. Thick carpets. Tall windows. Heavy silence. Reports come the same way—inked pages, careful summaries, measured words. Unrest, yes—but contained. Agitators, perhaps—but manageable.
He sees movement.
He does not hear voices.
Sennaya keeps moving.
Bread gets smaller.
Lines get longer.
The girl walks back through the square at night.
Street to servant.
Servant to servant.
Servant to room.
Room to throne.
What begins as hunger arrives as reassurance.
It was something he could live with.
It was something he would die by.
i wish i understood how all this works! maybe one day you’ll explain it to me! 😊
Sounds pretty fucked
A 1970s-style inflationary environment
with a 1999-style concentration and narrative bubble
built on 2008-style hidden credit fragility
inside a 1929-style income/social inequality and leverage regime
TLDR:
1970s = the economic environment
1999 = the market structure
2008 = the credit plumbing
1929 = the social and policy constraint
so yeah your conclusion is correct basically
https://brandonbedard.substack.com/p/update-why-uhi-will-make-the-rich?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android&r=7qos2e