As if the Dollar isn’t already tanking…

by Geno Petro

Chicago Broker Owner Realtor | RE 2.0 Blogger

Author website

You Know I Had To Say Something…

To read me is to know me and if you’ve read me before then you already know that I am no economist. Far from it.  I can reduce by 10% and multiply by 5%–the two basic math skills needed to be a realtor in Chicago–but anything much beyond that, I start spelling out the numbers instead. If I had to rely soley on the mathematic portion of my brain to come up with D’enouement in any given circumstance, then I’d be wandering the halls of Pi purgatory, ad infinitum. See, I just did it.

Nor am I now, or have I ever been, a candidate for political office of any kind although one entry on Google claims I was once the Treasurer for a Virginia chapter of the Knights of Columbus in 1993-94. (I will state for the record right here in a national forum that I don’t know what happened to that Bingo money but hookers were definitely not involved.)  In fact, according to Sister Mary Timothy from the old neighborhood, I ceased even being a Catholic after I got caught smoking in the Girls bathroom with Melanie Mortimer back in the 6th grade.  My blanket response to both of these scenarios is this—-and I paraphrase G. Gordon Liddy from his Watergate days,  “Much beyond that, Senator…at those particular points in time,…to the best of my knowledge,….I don’t recall.”

However, I am not completely without opinions.  And if I should ever find myself in such a position, my iPhone is sure to ping me otherwise. Such was the case this past Monday as I topped off my Mini Cooper, silently cursing any and all things OPEC, and wondering if I should have bought an even smaller form of transport.  The MSNBC feed alerted me that a notable politician admitted to paying $1,000 per hour for the services of a jezebel.  I just paid $39.79 for a tank of Premium,  then quickly figured (with the help of my iCalculator, of course) that alas…Super Premium was a mere $960.21 more.  As I read on, I imagined the following Govenor’s Mansion pillow talk later that evening in far, far away Albany:

First Lady of NY:  “You paid $1,000 per hour for a hooker?”

Govenor of NY:   “Yes Honey, but it’s not as bad as it sounds. I used U.S. dollars.

First Lady of NY:   “But what will the constituents  say?”

Govenor of NY:   “Hey, cut me some slack, Silda.  She wanted Euros, for crissakes. And her pimp demanded his cut as well.”

First Lady of NY:   “Whores.”

Govenor of NY:    “Exactly.”

First Lady of NY:   “I hope she at least used protection…”

Which brings me to the following exercise—my own Harpers index, as it were, on the issue: 

What You Get For a Grand These Days…U.S.  

640 Euros.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

492 Sterling Pounds.

10,636 Pesos (and they say Mexico doesn’t have our back).

One months rent at a  Chicago Lake Shore Drive studio apartment; Unfurnished, No Parking, Alley View.

50% down payment on the least expensive Rolex.

Dinner for two with wine, tip and tax at Charlie Trotters.

243 Pumpkin Spice Whipped Venti Lattes from Starbucks. 

9 barrels of crude oil.

One hour with Ashley Alexandra Dupre.  (ps…there’s a 4 hour minimum)

Two nights at the Bellagio in Vegas without a hooker.

It is my economic forecast that all of the above will continue to drive the value of the U.S. dollar downward and that, in theory at least, neither the newly announced $200 billion sub-prime bail out nor the $168 billion economic stimulus package will lend any more infusion into the GNP than say, 5 million Spitzers honoring the 4 hour minimum—tax free, once a week each, for a year.  All three models seem doomed to me but like I mentioned earlier, I’m a speller…not a counter.  I guess what I do understand is this…

These latest headlines are bad press for our beloved greenback, folks. I’ve seen the pictures. The woman is a $100 hooker at best (and that Starbucks pumpkin concoction, at $4.10 each, is no bargain either and I actually did try one of those). We don’t need this kind of inflation and pork barrel spending in times like these.  Throwing money at hookers might be a decent hedge against the Malaysian Ringgit (3.16 per $1) or even the Indian Rupee (40.4 per $1) but here in America, and in the Midwest particularly, we can’t afford the exchange rate.  We men all need to keep our respective noses clean, not make eye contact with any woman from Jersey with three French names, and live to die another day—on our own terms, with money in the bank…..or so I’m hereby instructed by my beautiful wife, Mona.