The Federal Reserve, that grand, marbled cathedral of monetary mysticism, is currently bracing for the potential arrival of Kevin Hassett. For the uninitiated—meaning those of you with actual lives who don’t spend your weekends masturbating to consumer price index spreadsheets—Hassett is the human equivalent of a chameleon that’s forgotten its original color. The press is currently agonizing over which 'version' of Hassett might show up to lead the central bank. Will it be the 'right-of-center tax expert' who once occupied the halls of academia, or the 'partisan hack' who spent the last few years performing intellectual gymnastics for the MAGA faithful? The answer, of course, is that both versions are equally exhausting and entirely symptomatic of a system that has long since traded its soul for a seat at the big kids' table.

Let’s revisit the 'respectable' Hassett, shall we? This is the man who co-authored 'Dow 36,000' in 1999, right before the dot-com bubble burst like a overinflated ego at a high school reunion. It was a masterpiece of delusional optimism, a siren song for the economically illiterate, suggesting that stocks were actually undervalued even as they hovered over an abyss. This is the 'intellectual' background we are supposed to respect. In the hallowed halls of right-wing think tanks, being catastrophically wrong is apparently a prerequisite for career advancement. If you fail in the private sector, you're a loser; if you fail in economic forecasting, you’re an Elder Statesman. It’s a marvelous racket if you can get it, provided you have the stomach for constant, public humiliation disguised as data analysis.

Then we have the 'New' Hassett—the one who traded the thin veneer of academic neutrality for the loud, abrasive suit of a partisan warrior. Critics point to his recent years as a sign of descent into the gutter of political sycophancy. But let’s be honest: the transition from 'corporate tax-cut evangelist' to 'partisan loyalist' isn't a fall from grace; it’s a lateral move in the same sewer. The idea that there was ever a 'pure' version of this man is the funniest joke in Washington. He didn't suddenly discover politics; he simply realized that the market for 'sober economic analysis' was being outbid by the market for 'performative outrage.' He is a creature of the ecosystem, a man who understands that in the modern American political landscape, reality is whatever the person holding the leash says it is.

If Hassett takes the helm of the Federal Reserve, the concern is that the institution’s 'independence' will be compromised. This is a hilarious sentiment. The Fed’s independence is a fairytale we tell children so they don’t worry about the fact that their currency is being managed by a cabal of unelected bureaucrats who wouldn't know a grocery bill if it hit them in their collective faces. The Fed has always been a political animal; it just usually has the decency to hide its biases behind a curtain of obfuscation and jargon. Hassett’s crime, in the eyes of the establishment, isn't that he’s biased, but that he’s *loud* about it. He threatens to remove the mask, showing the world that the wizards behind the curtain are actually just grumpy men with spreadsheets and an agenda.

Imagine the Fed meetings under a Hassett regime. We’ll move from the agonizingly slow 'data-dependent' posture of the current guard to something more akin to a campaign rally. Interest rate hikes won't be about cooling the economy; they’ll be about punishing enemies. Rate cuts won't be about stimulating growth; they’ll be about greasing the wheels for whichever side of the aisle is currently signing his paychecks. It’s the final evolution of the American experiment: the complete and utter merger of central banking and reality television. We are watching the slow-motion collapse of the technocratic dream, replaced by a nightmare where the value of your money depends on how well the Fed Chair is polling with the base this week.

Whether he’s the tax expert or the hack, the result is the same for the rest of us. The elites will continue to treat the economy like their personal chemistry set, mixing volatile elements and then acting surprised when the lab explodes. Hassett is just the latest in a long line of interchangeable suits, each one more desperate than the last to prove that they have the secret formula for eternal prosperity. They don't. They have a printing press and a desire for relevance. Whether the man steering the ship is wearing a mortarboard or a red hat, the ship is still headed for the rocks. But please, by all means, let’s keep debating which 'version' of the man is the bigger threat, as if the distinction actually matters to anyone who isn't currently collecting a pension from a D.C. lobbying firm.