Washington, DC—Once upon a time there lived an ancient, old white man and his son, Jerome, or JPow as his friends called him, on their small estate in the fabled land of Washington, DC. It was said to be a hive of scum and villainy! But the decrepit old man, Joe (who suffered from advanced hyper-malignant superdementia) and his son Jerome Powell, well, they made the best of it in trying times.
Every day Jerome would help his daddy with the chores – giving interviews, creating fun tales to keep people entertained, and running a laborious money-mill. But despite all their hard work, a terrible disease broke out, the dreaded coronavirus, and Jerome and his father’s land became very poor with barely enough money to keep anyone fed. People were going to food banks just to make ends meet!
“What shall we do, what shall we do, uh, where am I, huh?” said the ancient man one day, squinting beneath his botox brow. “We don’t have enough money to buy food, or masks, or even elections if this keeps up! Perhaps we should find something to fix this terrible and murderous plague before it is too late.”
“All right, daddy B,” said Jerome, “it’s market-day today. I’ll go into town stimulate the economy of our Fair Land!”
So Jerome took the economy in his hand, walked through the estate gate and headed off toward town. He hadn’t gone far when he met a funny-looking, old Chinese man who said to him, “Good morning, Jerome, I am Xi Jinping.”
“Good morning to you,” said Jerome, wondering how the old man knew his name.
“Where are you off to this fine morning?” asked the man.
“I’m going to market to use this economy here to stimulate our nation, sir.”
“Well what a helpful son you are!” exclaimed the man, “I have a special deal for such a good boy as you.”
The old Chinese man looked around to make sure no one was watching and then opened his hand to show Jerome what he held.
“Beans?” asked Jerome, looking a little confused.
“Three magical beans to be exact, young man. One, two, three! So magical are they, that if you plant them overnight, by morning they grow right up to the sky,” promised the funny little man. “And because you’re such a good boy, they’re all yours in trade for that old economy you have in your hand there.”
“Really?” said Jerome, “and you’re quite sure they’re magical?”
“I am indeed! These magic beans, they sprout up into a Magical Money Tree! It creates all the money in the world. I see the calluses on your hands, young Jerome. Those are the sore, sore patches of a boy who’s been slaving away over a money press!”
“Oh gee, sir,” said JPow excitedly. “We’ve been looking for a way to stimulate the economy, like through lockdowns or subsidizing Tesla or maybe even having an infrastructure program, but this sure sounds a lot better than that.”
“Oh yes,” Xi said with a wink, while crossing his fingers behind his back. “And if it doesn’t turn out to be true, you can have your economy back. But you’ll soon have a Magical Money Tree, maybe even three. And do you know what is the best thing about this, Jerome?”
“Shucks sir, I bet I don’t! Why don’t you tell me?”
“Well, naïve Jerome, when you plant a Magical Money Tree, no one in all the land has to work anymore! Because they all get money from the Magical Money Tree! And I can tell that the people of this fair land appreciate that,” he said looking at all the signs around which read PERMANENTLY CLOSED.
“Oh sir, sir, just take my economy now,” said Jerome, throwing it to Xi with great haste. “Boy, I can’t wait! This land will be overflowing with milk and honey and masks and people will never have to work again, and it will be the best country in the all world, oh yes sir!”
“That’s right,” Xi said. “Now I must go. And if your daddy asks, you tell him, “Papa Joe, this Magical Money Tree will make all of your dreams come true, and maybe even Kamala’s, too! It’ll make money faster than you ever were able to do before!”
“Oh, and one last thing,” Xi called over his shoulder as he walked off. “Ancient Chinese proverb says, ‘A man was falling 100 stories. As he passed the 95th story, he said, ‘See. Falling 100 stories doesn’t hurt. Everyone should do it. Just show me what’s so bad about falling 100 stories, because I’m not seeing it!’ That’s a freebie to you, kid. Go get ‘em!”