Post #1810: Top 25 AIs for fill-in-the-blank? When did this happen?

Let me say that I don’t ever use a grammar checker.  My wife refuses to use spell-check.  Says she, “I think that an educated person should be able to write clear English.”

Yet, on a lark, I decided I’d have an AI write my next blog post.

Still working on carrying through on that.  It ain’t as easy as I thought.

Continue reading Post #1810: Top 25 AIs for fill-in-the-blank? When did this happen?

Post 1808: Some thoughts on AI, part 1.

 

AIs of various sorts seem to be able to do a lot of jobs that traditionally required the use of a human mind.  They are particularly good with text generation.  They can also easily do “literature reviews”, to offer a summary of current understanding or thinking regarding a topic.  Some say they are good at writing computer code, but I’d like to see evidence of that before I’d believe it. Continue reading Post 1808: Some thoughts on AI, part 1.

Post #1807: Sous vide chicken breast via Shake ‘n’ Bake.

 

In a nutshell:  A large pot, a small burner, a thermometer, and some plastic bags.  That’s all the equipment it takes to do up a batch of sous vide chicken breasts.

The bags have to be food-safe.  I used heat-seal bags and a vacuum sealer.  But I’m told you can use Zip-locks.

Background

On my last trip to Safeway, they had boneless, skinless (tasteless, soulless) chicken breasts on sale.  Cheap.

I bought a pack, even though this is not a cut of meat that I prefer.  Seems like chicken breasts always turn out dry, no matter what.

I got the notion to cook them sous vide, that is, cook them in sealed plastic bags immersed in hot water.  Sous vide has a reputation for cooking meats perfectly, and for preserving both tenderness and juiciness.  Given how difficult is to get a juicy cooked chicken breast, this seemed like a good approach.

There were a few little drawbacks.  First, sous vide is French (under vacuum).  Second, it’s trendy.  Third, it’s the sort of thing that “foodies” do.  Whereas I just want a decent-tasting chicken breast, however arrived-at.  Just not in my wheelhouse, generally speaking.

But the biggest drawback is that I don’t have a sous vide cooker, and I wasn’t going to buy one for just one meal.  For sous vide, you need to keep the water at whatever temperature you want the fully-cooked meat to be.  In the case of chicken, that’s going to be somewhere around 140-145F.  A sous vide cooker automates the task of temperature control by combining a thermostat, a heating element, and a small water pump in a single unit.  Stick it in a pot of water, dial in the temperature you want, and it’ll do its best to keep the water at that temperature.

Martha Stewart to the rescue.  She says that one may do perfectly acceptable sous vide cooking without the fancy equipment.  Just use a large pot of water, a small burner, and a thermometer.  On a gas stove, regulate the flame to maintain a constant temperature in the water bath.

So here goes.


Sous vide cooking:  First, do no harm.

Job 1 is avoiding food poisoning.  See the section on cooking times, below.  The sous vide chicken recipes I looked at were not specific about times and temperatures, giving broad ranges.  If I had just naively used the shortest time, that might not have turned out well.

In short, food safety considerations put firm minimums on the time and temperature.  No matter how loosey-goosey any particular recipe is written.  Anything beyond that the minimum dictated by safety is at your discretion.  But safety first.

That said, I’m using quart vacuum seal bags and a Nesco vacuum sealer, below.  Martha Stewart assures me that I could do this with Zip-lock bags instead.

  1. Place a large, shallow pot of water on the stove to heat.
  2. Turn down a “cuff” at the top of a one quart freezer bag (to keep the eventual seal area from getting dirty).
  3. Place your dry spices of choice in the bag.  Here, I’ve used a variety, from classic Italian herb mix to curcumin.  Plus a bit of salt.
  4. Slip the chicken breast in the bag, grab the top with a clean hand (or paper towel), and shake to distribute spices.
  5. Seal.  Even though the raw breasts are a bit wet, they can be sealed on the normal (dry) setting.
  6. Regulate heat so that the water temperature is what you want.  In my case, about 145F for chicken.
  7. Place the bags in the water.
  8. Briefly turn up the heat, to return the water bath to the desired temperature.
  9. Move the pot to the smallest burner on the stove.
  10. Turn burner to low, to maintain desired temperature.
  11. Check temperatures every ten minutes or so, adjust burner as needed.

Here are those five chicken breasts after the shake-and-seal step:

And in their hot water bath, circa 145F.


How hot, how long?

One unexpected aspect of sous vide chicken recipes is the wide range of suggested cook times.  For example, Martha Stewart gives a range of 1.5 to 4 hours.

Is that optional?  Can I pick any time within that range?  Is that the possible range, given how well I want it cooked?

In short, what does that broad range of times represent?

I’ve read at least four completely different explanations for choosing a particular cooking time, within that broad range.

One possibility is that the thickness of the meat determines the required cooking time.  So the stated range is for a variety of thicknesses of meat cuts.  The thinner the meat, the shorter the cooking time.

A possible alternative explanation is that it’s difficult to overcook meat with sous vide.  Thus, the range of times shows you the point at which the meat is done (i.e., safely edible), and the longest you can leave that fully-cooked meat in the cooker without damaging it.

A third possibility is that the longer it cooks, the more tender the meat gets.  Functionally, this is similar to the last one, in that the lowest listed cooking time is the time to the point where the meat is done.  The only substantive difference is that the meat becomes more tender, the longer it cooks.

The fourth is a straight-up food safety argument, that a certain cut of meat, at a certain temperature, will require some minimal time in order to be pasteurized properly.  That is, for any bacteria on or in the meat have been killed.  Note that this argument isn’t about the mouth feel of the cooked meat.  It’s a straight-up food safety argument.  (See this reference for a detailed chart of times).

Apparently, there’s some truth to all of the above.  You need to cook the meat long enough so that it’s done (i.e., tastes right).  You need to cook it long enough so that it’s safe to eat (pasteurized).  For both of those, thicker cuts do in fact take longer than thinner ones.  And the longer you cook it, beyond those minimums, for some cuts, the more tender the cut of meat gets.

All said and done, I like the chart from the reference cited just above, which would suggest that my roughly 1.75″ thick chicken breasts ought to cook for a minimum of 2.5 hours, at 145F.  That’s a straight-up food safety limit.  Anything less than that, and you are not guaranteed that all pathogens in the chicken will have been killed.

In this case, I get the feeling that the chicken breasts would have tasted perfectly fine after the minimum of 1.5 hours.  But based on the pasteurization chart, they would not have been completely safe to eat before 2.5 hours.

On second thought, let’s make it three hours even.  Just in case.


Three hours later …

Note:  I’ve now looked at this on my phone, and it looks terrible.  In person, it actually looks appetizing.

There’s the end result.  Chicken breast with Italian herb seasoning.  I snipped off the top of one bag, dropped it on a bed of rice, and cut off a small piece.

The results are good, by my humble standards.  The chicken breasts remained moist.

Pretty much everything else needs work. All of which would be solved by a good marinade, I think.

Unexpectedly, with Shake ‘n’ … to distribute the dried spices, followed by sous vide, the spices stay right where you left them.  That’s because the juices mostly stay in the meat, leaving next-to-no juices available to redistribute the spices within the packet, during the cooking.  Whatever got coated during the Shake ‘n’ Bake step remained coated.  Anything missed at that stage remains uncoated.

In particular, the entire interior of the chicken breast is uncoated, and so tastes like grocery store chicken breast.  Edible, but clearly a flaw from the outset, if you’re going with dry spices.  Yet, isn’t the whole point of the spices (or bbq sauce, or marinade) that you taste something other than bland industrial chicken breast?

If there’s a next time, I’ll cut the breasts in half and marinate.  Probably have to switch to Zip-locks at the same time, as vacuum sealing wet stuff is tricky.

Having successfully sous vided once, I understand the joy of having an actual sous vide cooker.  Much like a slow cooker, or a rice steamer, there’s something to be said for setting up an appliance to cook something, and having that appliance do the rest.  Rather than test and adjust every ten minutes or so.

So, while I can do sous vide on the stovetop, if I did it regularly, I’d spring for an actual sous vide appliance.

On the final plus side:  No cleanup from the cooking.  Toss the plastic bags and you’re done.


 


Summary judgment.

I’m glad I didn’t buy the machine first.  So, thanks due to Martha Stewart.   Because this is probably still not in my wheelhouse.

Decent end result, too much of everything else.   Too much:

  • clock time.  Have I finally finally found a chicken-cooking method that takes longer than barbeque?
  • fuss.  Unless I move to Zip-locks and a dedicated sous vide cooker.
  • fossil fuel energy.  I get to keep the water warm, then air-condition that warmth out of the house.
  • single-use plastic.  For long-term storage, sure, I’ll use those bags.  For dinner, frequently?
  • prolonged intimacy between hot food and hot plastic.  Food safe plastic notwithstanding.

And, to be honest, at the end of the day, it’s still just a grocery-store chicken breast.  Seems like if I’m going to all this trouble, I ought be cooking something nicer.


Extras for canning experts.

If you’ve done some canning — and in particular, if you’ve ever done low-temperature pasteurization of pickles — surely you have to be asking yourself “are unopened vaccum-sealed sous-vide-cooked packages shelf stable?”.

Or words to that effect.

In other words, what would happen to these if I didn’t stick them in the fridge?

First, I’m sure they would eventually be unsafe to eat.  Why?  Because chicken can be canned at home and the UDSA Complete Guide to Home Canning says that chicken, already partially cooked, needs to be processed for 90 minutes in a pressure canner.  They don’t even give a time for open (water-bath) canners.

So that’s about 90 minutes, at about 250F, for safely canned chicken.  Compared to which, three hours at 145F clearly doesn’t cut it.  There’s no way these are shelf-stable food.  And, in fact, by direct testing, botulism spores survive sous vide treatment (reference), which means these are not safe to store on the shelf.

Second, that said, sous vide may provide a longer life on the refrigerator shelf. USDA says storage up to four weeks, at refrigerator temperatures (reference).  But other references disagree, and suggest that sell-by dates for commercially-prepared and refrigerated sous vide products may not be conservative enough (reference).

Bottom line:  It’s best not to count on this as being any sort of food-preserving technique.  Store it and consume it as you would any cooked meat.

Post #1805: The best deal at the farmers’ market.

 

I used to think I had a great e-rapport with my daughter.  I would frequently write her lengthy emails, and she would respond almost immediately.  How nice, I thought, that she’d always send back this little abbreviation, just to let me know that she’d gotten my email.

Then I found out what TLDR meant.

With that as background, let me keep this one brief. Continue reading Post #1805: The best deal at the farmers’ market.

Post #1720: The Systemic Risk Clause and the FDIC

 

This is here only because it’s hard to look up, and so many people get it wrong.  Here’s the law that enables the FDIC to pay off all deposits in the event of a bank failure.  (Actually, it lets the FDIC do pretty much whatever seems to be required):

From the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation Improvement Act of 1991 (FDICIA):


PUBLIC LAW 102-242—DEC. 19, 1991 105 STAT. 2275

"(G) SYSTEMIC RISK.—
"(i) EMERGENCY DETERMINATION BY SECRETARY OF THE
TREASURY.—Notwithstanding subparagraphs (A) and
(E), if, upon the written recommendation of the Board
of Directors (upon a vote of not less than two-thirds of
the members of the Board of Directors) and the Board
of Governors of the Federal Reserve System (upon a
vote of not less than two-thirds of the members of such
Board), the Secretary of the Treasury (in consultation
with the President) determines that—
"(I) the Corporation's compliance with subpara-
graphs (A) and (E) with respect to an insured
depository institution would have serious adverse
effects on economic conditions or financial stabil-
ity; and
"(II) any action or assistance under this subpara-
graph would avoid or mitigate such adverse effects,
« the Corporation may take other action or provide
assistance under this section as necessary to avoid or
mitigate such effects.

Source: Google link to Govinfo.

In short, it takes a two-thirds majority of both the FDIC governing board and the Federal Reserve Board in order to invoke the FDIC’s systemic risk clause.  Also, agreement from the Secretary of the Treasury and the President of the U.S.

So, it’s kind of a big deal.

Based on what I’ve read, prior to this, it was common for the FDIC to make a case-by-case determination of whether or not to cover all deposits, regardless of the stated limits on coverage.  The Congress got tired of that and decided to codify the regulatory procedures, in this 1991 legislation.

After that codification in 1991, the systemic risk clause has been invoked rarely over the following decades.  Most notably, it was invoked for several large banks during the 2008 banking crisis.

So it’s notable in that it’s being used here.  That should be, at most, a once-a-decade event.

You do have to wonder when or whether the other shoe is going to drop.  Or whether we’ve had our once, for this decade.

Post #1719: A brief note on the 1980s Savings and Loan Crisis, or why sometimes It’s (not) a Wonderful Life.

 

FSLIC.  Raise your hand if you are old enough to recall what that stands for.

Briefly, FDIC : Bank :: FSLIC : Savings and Loan

You have to interpret the second  “:” as “was to”, not “is to”.  The Congress formally declared the Federal Savings and Loan Insurance Corporation (FSLIC) dead in 1989, after a decade-long illness.  It was beyond bankrupt at the time.  Its functions were subsumed into the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation (FDIC).

I mention this bit of economic history because of the recent failure of the Silicon Valley Bank.  That seems to have been driven by the same factor that drove the majority of S&Ls into bankruptcy in the 1980s.

Briefly, they borrowed short and lent long.  Short, as in short-term.   The money they took in — borrowed from their depositors — could be withdrawn at any time.  Long, as in long-term.  They apparently bought a lot of U.S. Treasury bonds. Which, although liquid enough at any given time, are still long-term loans to the U.S. Treasury.  (And a fundamentally odd thing for a bank to invest in, when you get right down to it.  It’s as if they couldn’t be bothered to find something with a better rate of return.)

In any case, as with any fixed-return asset, the price of those bonds drops as interest rates rise.  Owning a lot of fixed-return long-term securities, in an era of rising rates, is a recipe for bank failure.  (Or, as in the case of the 1980s, S&L failure.)  As I shall explain below.

And, after more than a decade of more-or-less zero inflation and below-zero real interest rates, I have to wonder how many more banks are now lurking out there, in our current environment of rising interest rates, waiting to fail from that same root cause.

If you just want to see a professional write-up of the S&L crisis — minus the dirt — this piece by the Federal Reserve Bank of St. Louis is about as good as it gets.


Skipping the details, how does the FDIC operate?

U.S. banking regulation has a lot of generally-unrecognized quirks.  Many of these derive from the fact that States were in the business of chartering banks long before the Federal government got in on that.  States never relinquished that right.  As a consequence, what appears to consumers today as a more-or-less monolithic industry is actually a mix of a institutions following different rules and regulations.

The practical consequence of this is that almost anything you say about bank regulation and deposit insurance will have some exception, somewhere.  In Virginia, it appears that all state-chartered banks are in fact FDIC insured, meaning that they are subject to Federal regulation.   But you can find states that allow some commercial banks to have no deposit insurance (e.g., CT), to (typically) states that operate bank insurance funds secondary to the FDIC, insuring deposit amounts in excess of the $250,000 FDIC limit (e.g, MA).  You can also find entire categories of bank-like institutions that only exist under state charters (read the CT reference above to get the gist of that).

The FDIC insures most bank deposits in the U.S., so it’s worth a paragraph or two to explain the finances of that.  (The FDIC reference page is here, the corresponding Credit Union reference page is here.).

The FDIC gives every bank a risk rating (termed CAMELS), based on factors such as capital adequacy and the riskiness of their underlying assets.  This risk rating seems to be a pretty good predictor of which classes of banks are at higher risk of failure.

Source:  Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation, Staff Studies. Report No. 2020-01. A History of Risk-Based Premiums at the FDIC, January 2020.

The FDIC charges banks a quarterly insurance premium based on the amount of insured deposits and the riskiness of the bank. As you can see, a large and risky bank might easily pay 10 times the insurance premium of a small bank with low apparent default risk.

Source:  https://www.fdic.gov/deposit/insurance/assessments/proposed.html

In normal times, best I can tell, on average, covered institutions pay insurance premiums equal to about 0.12 cents per dollar of deposits.   Effectively, that’s what you pay, in order to have your deposits insured.  The bank just makes that transaction on your behalf.  But the FDIC can add a temporary surcharge if the amount in the insurance fund gets too low.

The target value for the deposit insurance fund is 2% of the value of all of the covered assets (Source:  FDIC).  Which doesn’t sound like a lot, but the FDIC is a “full faith and credit” entity, meaning that the Federal government has to step in and make good on those insured deposits even if the insurance fund itself has been depleted.

(Oddly enough, while banks and S&Ls are insured by the FDIC, Federally-chartered credit unions are not.  They are insured by a different “full faith and credit” entity, the National Credit Union Share Insurance Fund, and are supervised by the National Credit Union Administration.)

That “designated reserve ratio” was 1.25% of assets before the near-death of our banking system in 2008-2009.  I went over this years ago, in Post #341.  Since the demise of the FSLIC in the 1980s, we’ve only had one episode where, arguably, the FDIC’s Deposit Insurance Fund was subject to significant strain.

The graph below, courtesy of the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation (FDIC), show the surge in bank failures that occurred in 2008 and 2009.  In 2008, despite significant intervention by the Federal Reserve to try to stabilize the financial system, banks with assets amounting to more than a third of a trillion dollars failed.

Accordingly, the balance in the FDIC’s Deposit Insurance Fund ran negative during that wave of bank failures.  Near as I can recall, this got absolutely no press coverage at the time.  Plausibly, the FDIC kept fairly quiet about it, and at the same time the FDIC avoided a cash-flow issue by requiring banks to make their next three years insurance premium payments, up front, to keep the money flowing.  (That, from detailed reporting in the Journal of Accountancy.)

Source:  FDIC

Unsurprisingly, after that, they upped the target from 1.25% to 2% of covered assets.

In short, the FDIC’s Deposit Insurance Fund was stress-tested in that episode, came up a bit short, and, accordingly, has been required to run a bit more conservatively ever since.  Acknowledging that if things really go south, the full faith and credit of the U.S. government stands behind them.

Unlike the S&Ls, discussed below, the proximate cause for those bank failures was the collapse of the sub-prime mortgage bubble, leading to a sharp downward adjustment in US housing prices, of a sort that had not been seen in the US for generations.  The blue line below (from the Saint Louis Federal Reserve) shows an index of U.S. housing prices.  The hump, peaking around 2006, is “the housing bubble”.  The  red line, for reference, is the US Consumer Price Index.  The graph runs from 1975 at the left, the 2019 at the right.  The gray bars are recessions.

Basically, a lot of banks made what in retrospect were a lot of really bad loans, based on ludicrously inflated real estate prices.  Based, in turn, on what in hindsight was clearly a speculative bubble in real estate, driven by exceptionally easy credit, even for high-risk properties.

Finally, the billion-dollar question:  How much does the FDIC lose when it shuts down a bank?  Obviously, that varies, but after staring at a few tables in various sources, a good guess is about 8% of the assets of the bank.  So if the Silicon Valley Bank is typical, and has $200B – $250B in assets, the Deposit Insurance Fund can expect to take a hit of about $20B.  Far below the current balance of around $120B in that fund.


The 1980s S&L crisis and the death of the FSLIC.

Source:  An Examination of the Banking Crises of the 1980s and Early 1990s,

The first thing to grasp is that S&Ls are not the same as banks.  Back in the day, they were a distinct class of depository institutions with their own separate regulators and insurance fund.  For purposes of this discussion, these were institutions that, by law, offered savings accounts to small depositors and used that money primarily to fund home mortgages. In their heyday, half the home mortgages in the U.S. were funded by S&Ls.

Note that I said “savings accounts” above.  Not checking accounts.  The radical notion of allowing S&Ls to offer checking accounts (NOW accounts) did not occur until 1980, with the Congress’s first attempt to quash the S&L crisis.

The interesting historical difference between a savings account and a checking account is that you couldn’t demand to withdraw your money held in a savings account.  These days, all vestiges of restrictions in withdrawal from savings accounts have disappeared (reference).  But there was a time when S&Ls could say, sure, you can have your money — sometime.

In fact, I have both a checking and a savings account at my local credit union.  If you bother to read the fine print in the account agreement, I find the following disclosure:

" The Credit Union reserves the right to delay the availability of funds deposited to accounts that are not transaction accounts for periods longer than those disclosed in this policy."

Translation:  If they are having a problem, they have the right to prevent me from withdrawing money from my savings account.  Even now.  Even in 2023.  These days, with both savings and checking paying close to zero interest, this hardly matters.  I might as well keep the entire balance in checking.  But this is a holdover from the days of bank runs and interest-bearing savings accounts.  You got paid interest for your deposit, but the quid pro quo is that in the event of a bank run, you were stuck.  For other specialized types of saving accounts — Holiday Club, Christmas Club — the restrictions are more explicit, and typically involve penalties for excessive or early withdrawals.

And that’s by design.  With clauses such as that, the bank needs to keep fewer “reserves”, that is, less cash-on-hand and other liquid assets, to satisfy regulatory requirements.  This lets it put a higher fraction of deposits to work earning interest, and so (in theory) should lead to better economic performance.

In short, prior to 1970, say, S&Ls were a backwater of American banking.  They could only offer savings-type accounts, and they were highly restricted in the types of assets they could invest in.  The maximum interest they could pay on deposits was set by law.  By and large, they were community lending institutions that issued mortgages, and little else.

Then along came the economic turmoil of the 1970s and 1980s.  Let me summarize the situation — borrowed short and lent long — in one graph.

The key to understanding why the S&Ls were trapped by rising interest rates is to understand that as interest rates go up, the value of fixed-income securities goes down.  Among which are fixed-rate mortgages. When the prime rate is 4%, a mortgage paying 6% is an attractive investment.  When the prime rate hits 21.5%, not so much.  If you want to sell a 6% mortgage in that environment, you’re going to have to sell it at a deep, deep discount.

And so, as rates rose, two things happened.  The value of S&L’s existing mortgage fell, so that if they had to sell them, they’d take a loss.  And, separately, they began to lose deposits, and (once rates were deregulated) then had to pay higher interest to keep those deposits. Higher than what they were earning on their portfolios of mortgages.

They were trapped.  If they liquidated their mortgages to pay off depositors, they took a loss.  If they raised interest rates enough to keep their depositors, they took a loss.  There was no way out.

Congress then spent the better part of a decade trying to do anything other than liquidate the bankrupt S&Ls.  They loosened restrictions on S&Ls.  They loosened them some more.  They basically urged S&LS to take ever-more-risky bets in the hope that they would somehow earn themselves out of the hole they were in.

In short, the Congress turned what had been a backwater of American banking was turned into America’s biggest casino.  All in the hopes that the S&Ls could earn enough to make up from the losses incurred by borrowing short and lending long in an era of rising interest rates.

From the original chart, it looks like a lot of S&Ls lasted until the end of the 1980s, but that’s an illusion.  Regulators turned a blind eye to the fact that many of those S&Ls were technical bankrupt, because they didn’t have enough money in the FSLIC to liquidate them.  At the time, the term was “zombie” S&Ls. Technically, dead, yet still functioning.  Meanwhile, the industry kept falling deeper and deeper into the hole.

After a few well-publicized scandals, the Congress finally threw in the towel circa 1989.  About a third of S&Ls were declared insolvent and were liquidated.  The FSLIC was bailed out by abolishing it and transferring the liabilities to the FDIC.  I assume the taxpayers in general made up for those cumulative losses, but I haven’t bothered to look up the details of that final FSLIC transaction.

I’m sure there was plenty of malfeasance along the way.  And some pre-existing regulations got in the way.  But the basic story — the reason a third of the industry went bankrupt — is far more mundane.  A combination of

  • Lending long (e.g., 30-year fixed mortgages).
  • Borrowing short (e.g., checking deposits, savings deposits, CDs).
  • Rising interest rates.

That’s just bad news, no matter who the actors are.  Maybe they have adequate capital and current earnings to keep going.  Maybe not.


And now?  Of toilet paper and bank runs, or bank runs were the original flash mobs.

Much like the 1970s/1980s, we’re now in an era of rising interest rates, following a prolonged period of low interest rates and low inflation.

Public information about of the failure of the Silicon Valley Bank sounded like the S&L crisis all over again.  Sure, if you look hard enough, you can find some combination of malfeasance and incompetence.  But from what I’ve read, the main problem is that they tied up much of their capital in long-term Treasuries.  Borrowed short, lent long.  Which, in the era of stable and low interest rates that existed from 2008 to circa 2022, was just fine.  But in an era of rising rates, was a form of economic suicide.

As long as their depositor base remained stable, that wasn’t necessarily a problem.  As long as they could earn enough to stay in business, they didn’t have to realize the losses on those long-term bonds.

But as soon as somebody suggested that withdrawing your money might be prudent, it was game over.  That rapid withdrawal of funds forces them to sell off assets to pay back their depositors.  And if the bulk of your assets are now far under water — well, you’re bankrupt in short order.

Are there more of these in the pipeline?  Now way for the public to know.  But I wouldn’t be surprised. And, I wouldn’t be worried either.  If you look at the numbers, banks fail all the time.

The problem here isn’t with the regulators.  Having learned some hard lessons from the foot-dragging of the S&L crisis, our regulatory authorities don’t screw around when a bank is in deep trouble.  They come down like a ton of bricks.  That’s not because they’ll somehow salvage more value out of the bank if they do that.

The problem is that — let’s face it — people are idiots.  Bank regulators act decisively to quash any general run on the banks.  The same mentality that gave us months of toilet paper shortages during the pandemic will give us bank runs. 

Now, deposit insurance should have put an end to that.  But in the era of constant internet disinformation, you know there’s somebody out there, right now, trying to start a bank run just to see if they can do it.  Maybe a foreign government.  Maybe just a home-grown jerk.  It doesn’t really matter.  Not to mention that you don’t even have to get up out of your chair to move your money out of a bank.

My take on it is that for the Feds to come out and say, hey, you’re covered, no matter what the size of the deposit?  I don’t necessarily think that was good policy.  I don’t think it was bad policy.  I think it was probably the only policy that would work, in this circumstance.

Because now deposit insurance isn’t just facing traditional human stupidity.  It’s facing stupidity, as amplified by social media and the internet.  Bank runs were the flash mobs of their day.  My guess is that bank regulators have to work faster and harder now, to stop those, than they have for the past half-century.  So far, they seem up to the task.  Let’s hope it stays that way.

 

Post #1717: An unremarked silence

 

I just want to interrupt your day for 60 seconds to point out something that you’re not seeing in the news.

Recently, a prominent elderly politician fell down in a hotel room and suffered a concussion.   That’s the second serious fall he’s taken in the past couple of years.  He broke his shoulder in that prior fall.

Currently, we observe the media/social media doing which of the following:

  1. Claiming that this politician is senile.
  2. Clamoring for this politician’s resignation, due to poor health.
  3. Creating and circulating deepfaked videos that exaggerate the issue,to mock the politician.
  4. Assert that the politician has permanent traumatic brain injury.
  5. Reporting on the fall and concussion.

Hint:  The politician is a Republican.

Answer:  5.

Sometimes, what doesn’t get reported tells more of a story than what does.

Post #1671: The future belongs to Boaty McBoatface, or, Why it’s time to cash in my I-bonds.

 

Normally my posts tend to be reality-based and fact-oriented.

Today, by contrast, I’m having a hard time dealing with reality, so I’m going to blather about the current state of affairs in the U.S.A.

I will eventually get around to those I-bonds.  But it’s not exactly a direct route.


Business 101:  Scope of authority should match scope of responsibility.

Your scope of authority is the stuff you have control over. Things you can change.  Decisions that you get to make.  That sort of thing.

Your scope of responsibility is the stuff you’ll be held accountable for.  Financially, legally, morally, socially, or whatever.  It’s all the stuff that, if it goes wrong, you take the blame and/or penalty.  And if it goes right, you get the praise and/or reward.

If you’ve ever taken a class on how to manage a business, you’ve almost certainly heard some version of the maxim above.  In an ideal business — and maybe in an ideal world — each person’s scope of authority and scope of responsibility would coincide.

Where scope of authority exceeds scope of responsibility, you get irresponsible decision-making.  The decision-maker doesn’t have to care about the consequences of the decision.

Where scope of responsibility exceeds scope of authority, you get stress.  A classic case might be where a customer screams at a waiter over the quality of the food.  It’s not as if the waiter cooked it.  But the waiter is held responsible for it.

This is really not much deeper than saying that you should be held accountable for your decisions.  And, conversely, that you shouldn’t be held accountable for things outside your control.


Boaty McBoatface:  This is what happens when you violate Business 101.

Source:  Wikipedia

You can read the full saga on Wikipedia or the New York Times.

Briefly:  About a decade ago, an arm of the British government (the NERC) decided to make a major investment in a nearly $300M polar research ship.  That ship has the serious mission of measuring the effects of climate change in the earth’s polar regions.

As the ship neared completion, it required a name.  And so, to gin up popular support, they decided to choose the name of this new capital vessel via internet poll.

Hijinks ensued, in the form of the most popular name, by a wide margin, being Boaty McBoatface. The name was, in fact, suggested as a joke.  The guy who suggested it eventually sort-of apologized for doing so.  But it won handily.

In the end, the NERC reneged and gave the ship a properly serious name (the RRS Sir David Attenborough).   But they did name one of the autonomous submersibles the Boaty McBoatface.  As shown above, courtesy of Wikipedia.

This was a classic violation of Business 101.  The scope of authority — the right to name the ship — was handed to an anonymous internet crowd who bore no responsibility whatsoever for their actions.  Meanwhile, the people responsible for paying for and running the ship had, in theory, no control whatsoever over the name.

This is hardly the first time that a seemingly serious internet poll led to a frivolous outcome.  But it was such a stunning backfire that “McBoatface” has now become a verb in its own right, per the Wiktionary:

Verb

Boaty McBoatface (third-person singular simple present Boaty McBoatfaces, present participle Boaty McBoatfacing, simple past and past participle Boaty McBoatfaced)
  1. (neologism) To hijack or troll a vote, especially one held online, by supporting a joke option. [from 2016]
    
    

Did we just McBoatface the U.S. House of Representatives?

In the U.S., an election is an anonymous poll in which those casting votes bear no individual responsibility for the consequences.

It’s hard for me to see much difference between that, and a typical internet poll.  Other than the fact that it’s difficult to vote twice.  And that some people actually do take elections seriously.

I guess it’s a bit pejorative to suggest that the current chaos in the House of Representatives has occurred because we McBoatfaced the last election.  Still, you have to wonder about the people who voted for candidates whose sole promise was to be loud and disruptive, and do their darnedest to interrupt the normal business of government.  Did they think that would be fun prank, the same as the McBoatface voters?  Own the libs, or whatever.  Or was that really their serious and thoughtful goal?

At least their candidates seem to be carrying through on their campaign promises.


What people are getting backwards about the current situation.

Here’s one that kind of cracks me up, but kind of doesn’t.  You hear a lot of people saying that the lack of a functioning House is OK, because the Federal government already passed a budget for FY 2023.  They won’t have to face that task until this fall.

I think that’s backwards.

Rephrased:  Senate Republicans saw this predictable train wreck months ago, and so worked with Democrats to pass the current (2023) FY budget.  That’s presumably because they already knew (or strongly suspected) that the House wouldn’t be capable of doing that.

Re-interpreting today’s events:  The predicted chaos has come to pass.  I’d have to bet, then, that there will be no new budget for the next fiscal year, and no increase in the debt ceiling.

The currently-funded fiscal year (2023) ends on 9/30/2023.  So that’s a known.  Even then, I believe that entitlement programs (Social Security, Medicare) remain funded.  It’s only the “discretionary” part of the budget that is not.

But as to when, exactly, we hit the debt ceiling, nobody can quite say.  Consensus seems to be mid-2023.

At that point, the Federal government will continue to make what payments it can.  So, likely, Social Security checks will continue to go out.  (Figuratively speaking — I don’t think they’ve mailed out physical checks in decades.) Other payments will not be made.


On lock-picking, McBoatfacing, and I-bonds

Source:  Covertinstruments.com

Which brings me to my final speculation.  Everybody is working under the assumption that, eventually, this will all get straightened out.  Somebody will figure out some way to rein in the House of Representatives so that they can do their required business.

By contrast, I keep asking myself, what if this is as good as it gets?

What if the house is permanently McBoatfaced? 

Back when I was a kid, we had joke Presidential candidates.  Comedian Pat Paulson was one.   There was a movement to elect the fictional TV character Archie Bunker as U.S. President.  And so on.  But everybody knew they were jokes, or that they were fictional characters.

Enter Representative Santos of New York.  Line, meet blur.  The people of that district definitely elected a fictional character.  They were simply not aware of it at the time.  To which we can add a handful of Republican house members whose sole platform appears to have been being mad as hell, and stating their unequivocal unwillingness to go along with anything required to conduct the business of government.  I guess we all now know they weren’t kidding.

A couple of days back, a friend asked me to see if I could open a couple of old suitcases that had belonged to her grandmother. Luckily, I happened  to own the Covert Companion (r) tool, pictured above.  The version I use has a few tools to help with what are called “low skill” attacks on locks.  (“Low skill” being an accurate description of my lock-picking ability).  Because I happened to own those crude little pieces of steel circled above, I had relatively little problem opening the simple warded locks on those suitcases.

But if I hadn’t had the tools, I’d have been helpless.  The only way to open the suitcase would have been to destroy it.  It’s a case of any tool, no matter how crude, being better than no tool at all.

Right now, I’m not seeing the tools in hand to fix the U.S. House.  Not even the crudest tactic that could possibly resolve the current impasse, let alone get the place functional going forward.  And, unlike those old suitcases, nobody has the power to destroy it, to achieve some end.  The House works the way it works, or doesn’t, until such time as it works well enough to change the way it works.  Which can’t happen.  Because right now, it’s not working.

Which finally brings me to I-bonds.  Is it smart to own I-bonds when the House is broken?

I’ve owned these for decades.  In fact, they are so old that they are going to quit paying interest just a few years from now.  Pre-tax, they pay just a bit more than the rate of inflation.  Most of the decades that I have owned them, they’ve paid little more than zero.  But now, as these things are reckoned, they are paying pretty well, compared to the alternatives.

But that high rate of return means nothing if you can’t spend it.  And of all the people the Federal government could choose to stiff, in the event of a permanent failure to fund the government or raise the debt ceiling, I’d bet that small bondholders would be right at the top of the list.  (N.B., I-bonds are marketed at small savers, with a purchase limit of $5000 per person per year.)

In any case, my conclusion is that if the House is permanently McBoatfaced, I might be wise to cash those I-bonds before we hit the debt limit sometime this summer.  Otherwise, I just get the feeling that the longer this goes on, the longer it’s going to go on.  Combined with the feeling that maybe this is as good as it gets.  That there is no tool for fixing it.

And that if everybody has their hand out, to the Feds, I’m going to end up at the back of the line.

I told you I’d get to I-bonds eventually.  It just took a while.