Two nights ago, I found myself in the wildest role imaginable—a shaman at a Mongolian wedding. ACID blessings upon a bride and groom who, by all accounts, had no idea what hit them. But before that, I captured this vignette from Mongolia’s largest city, fresh off a flight from LA. The jet lag? Savage. The markets? Even more so.
The Nikkei’s nosedive is just the tip of the iceberg. I’m here, amidst the echoes of Soviet imperialism, where the locals still eye you with the same suspicion they reserve for the Russkies. And as I scan the financial news, all signs point to Japan and the unholy mess of high US real rates—a harbinger of some serious upheaval in the global financial belief system.
These market jitters? They’re screaming one thing: desperation. The world is trying to cope with the crushing weight of high US rates, and it’s like watching a slow-motion train wreck. The ripple effects are smashing through global markets, leaving everyone scrambling to pick up the pieces.
The folly of mainstream finance news is this: it’s a carnival of short-term noise, designed to trap your brain in a cycle of anxiety and distraction. The bigger picture? It’s out there, buried beneath the screaming headlines and flashing ticker symbols.
Out here in Mongolia, under the vast, indifferent sky, you realize how much of this financial theater is just that—an absurd drama played out by those too blinded by their own narratives. Soviet shadows still loom large here, a reminder that empires—financial or otherwise—are fragile beasts.
