In the land of Fedville, where the Americans were quite merry looking at 2025, there lived a green, 25% cotton and 75% linen Grinch, whose heart was inflationary. Americans who lived in Fedville were ebullient about their post-election prospects, but the Grinch, who lived inside the Fedville capital of the Eccles Building, was not. The Grinch hated the 2024 election results – and Christmas. The whole thing. Now, please don’t ask why. No one quite knows the reason. It could be he did not want to make Fedville great again. It could be, perhaps, that he loved inflicting the printing press’s pain.
The Grinch Who Stole Your Wallet
The Grinch, for years, observed the Fedville population from afar. The Americans were confused. Their wallets felt light. Their savings were shrinking, their prices were rising, and their economic future was not so bright. The Grinch forecasted their plight in the dot plot and, though he was mean, he pondered the cause of this economic scene. Was it a recession? A depression? A vibecession?
“Why, it’s the inflation!” he grumbled, with a sneer on his face. “I’m printing more money at a reckless pace.” He saw the Americans struggle, their budgets so tight, and for once since his century-old inception, he felt something was right.
He thought of the Americans and their previous decades of charity and how the Fed’s actions had stolen their prosperity.
The Grinch stood there on Christmas Eve, hating the red caps. With a scowl and a frown, he watched from his Eccles Building as the Americans assessed the popular vote and electoral college. He knew every American in Fedville was busy now, smiling a Trumpian smile and laughing a Muskian laugh.
Then he growled, with his Grinch fingers nervously turning on the printing press. For tomorrow, he knew, that all the American girls and boys would wake bright and early, gape at the calendar, one day closer to Inauguration Day. And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the noise! Noise! Noise! That’s one thing he hated: The Village People’s YMCA.
Then the Americans, young and old, would sit down to a feast that is 24% more expensive than four years ago. And they’d feast! They’d feast on $4.16 dinner rolls. Three-dollar sweet potatoes. A $26 turkey. A $1 celery.
And then they’d do something he liked least of all. Every American in Fedville, the tall and the small, would do a dance that shakes the hips, punches the air, and pouts the lips.
The Grinch got a wonderful, awful idea. “I know just what to do!” the Grinch laughed in his throat. And he made a quick coat, shirt, and tie. And he chuckled and clucked. What a great Grinchy howl! “With this suit, I look just like Jay Powell.” Then he went up to a podium, the old liar. “Poohpooh to the Americans,” he was grinchishly humming. “They’re finding out now that no deflation is coming! They’re just waking up! I know just what they’ll do! They’ll read the CPI report. They’ll read the M2 money supply data. Their mouths will hang open, and their bones will shutter. Then the Americans down in Fedville will all cry, cleaning their tears with a debased paper currency.”
“That’s a noise,” grinned the Grinch, “That I simply MUST hear!” So, he paused, and the Grinch put his hand to his ear. He did hear a sound rising over liberal snowflakes. It started in low, then it started to grow. But the sound wasn’t sad! Why, this sound sounded MAGA!
He hadn’t stopped Americans from lifting the University of Michigan’s Consumer Sentiment Index and The Conference Board’s Consumer Confidence Index. The Grinch’s printing press stopped three times that day! And the minute his printing press stopped making a squeaking sound, he whizzed with the gold from Fort Knox through the bright morning light. Like an equestrian, he hopped on the saddle and gave everyone gold bars and coins! And he, he himself. The Grinch declared that he would make money great again!
