It is a peculiar brand of American masochism that allows the public to believe, even for a fleeting, delusional second, that the fate of their purchasing power rests in capable hands. On one side of this performative skirmish, we have the Federal Reserve, a collection of gray-suited technocrats who radiate the charisma of damp cardboard and possess the foresight of a blindfolded weather vane. On the other, we have Donald Trump, a man whose grasp of macroeconomics could be comfortably inscribed in crayon on the back of a fast-food wrapper. The current discourse surrounding Trump’s proposed 'war' on the Federal Reserve is not a debate about policy; it is a clinical observation of a dying empire arguing over which specific brand of incompetence should be allowed to set the house on fire.

Let us begin with the Federal Reserve itself, that hallowed 'independent' institution. The myth of Fed independence is the greatest piece of fiction produced in Washington since the last time a politician promised to 'drain the swamp.' They claim to be data-dependent, yet they consistently fail to see the data until it has already kicked them in the teeth. They spent a year calling inflation 'transitory' while the average citizen was considering taking out a second mortgage to afford a carton of eggs. Now, they act as the thin, beige line between us and total collapse. It is a pathetic spectacle. Jerome Powell and his cabal of PhDs are essentially the janitors of a casino, desperately trying to mop up the spilled drinks of the billionaire class while pretending they are the ones running the games.

Enter the challenger. Trump’s desire to strip the Fed of its independence is not born of some grand populist vision to liberate the working man from the tyranny of the interest rate. It is the reflexive twitch of a developer who views the entire global economy as a failing Atlantic City property that just needs one more predatory loan to stay afloat. He wants the power to slash rates because he understands that cheap money creates a temporary, drug-like euphoria in the markets—a sugar high that looks great on a news ticker but leaves the rest of the country with a terminal case of fiscal rot. To Trump, the Fed is just another department that hasn't shown him enough 'loyalty,' a concept he values far more than the stability of the US Dollar.

The real comedy—or tragedy, if you’re still capable of feeling things—lies in the reaction from the so-called 'adults in the room.' The Democratic establishment is currently clutching its collective pearls, wailing about the 'sanctity of institutions.' These are the same people who have spent the last four years treating the national debt like a high score in a video game they have no intention of finishing. Their sudden reverence for the Fed’s autonomy is purely tactical; they don’t care about the economy, they just care about maintaining a system where the blame for financial ruin can be outsourced to an unelected board of governors rather than the people they actually voted for.

If Trump succeeds in subordinating the Fed, we are looking at the 'Turkeyfication' of the American economy. History is littered with the corpses of nations where the executive branch decided that the printing press was a magical toy. When inflation starts to climb again—and it will, because we have spent decades prioritizing consumption over production—a politicized Fed will be forced to choose between the long-term health of the currency and the short-term ego of the man in the Oval Office. We all know how that story ends. The dollar becomes a decorative bookmark, and the 'damage' mentioned in the headlines becomes the permanent reality of a post-superpower wasteland.

The Right will tell you this is about 'taking back control' from the deep state. The Left will tell you this is a 'threat to democracy.' They are both lying. This is a fight between two different flavors of hubris. The Fed believes it can engineer a 'soft landing' for a plane that has no wings and is currently plummeting into a volcano. Trump believes he can simply tell the volcano to stop being so hot. Meanwhile, the average American is trapped in the middle, watching their savings evaporate while two groups of wealthy geriatric narcissists argue over who gets to hold the matches. It would be funny if it weren’t so predictable. We are witnessing the inevitable conclusion of a society that decided long ago that reality was optional and that debt was a problem for people who haven't been born yet. Enjoy the show; it’s the only thing left that’s free.