They couldn’t even wait a week before demanding more?

Gintas writes:

You wrote in an entry on Sept 29, 2008:

They want $700 billion, and they’re changing NOTHING

[E]ven as the government is seeking $700 billion to keep the finance markets liquid, the granting of mortgages to uncreditworthy home buyers is continuing, the backing of those subprime mortgages by Fannie and Freddie is continuing, and the backing of Fannie and Freddie by the federal government is continuing. Nothing essential has changed. As Thucydides said, this supposed “fix” truly is a “fix” in the sense of giving an addict another shot of heroin so he can avoid having to go through withdrawal.

Well, a week hasn’t even passed by, and this:

World stocks swoon; new rescue weighed

As pressure built in the credit markets and stocks spiraled lower around the world on Monday, the Federal Reserve was considering a radical new plan to jump-start the engine of the financial system.

Under a proposal being discussed with the Treasury Department, the Fed could buy vast amounts of the unsecured short-term debt that companies rely on to finance their day-to-day activities, according to officials familiar with the discussions. If this were to happen, the country’s central bank would come closer than ever to lending directly to businesses.

While the move would put more taxpayer dollars at risk, it underscores the growing sense of urgency felt by policymakers in a climate where lending has virtually dried up. [Emphasis added.]

Not even one tiny little week!

LA replies:

A little week, or ere that bailout was old
With which they drained my poor country’s body
Swearing that this was the only way
to save the economy, why they, even they—
O God! an addict, hooked on heroin,
Would have waited longer!—called for more bailouts.

(Hamlet, Act I, Scene 2)

LA continues:

For those unfamiliar with the reference, here are the lines from Hamlet on which the above paraphrase is based:

A little month, or ere those shoes were old
With which she follow’d my poor father’s body,
Like Niobe, all tears:—why she, even she—
O, God! a beast, that wants discourse of reason,
Would have mourn’d longer—married with my uncle,
My father’s brother, but no more like my father
Than I to Hercules: within a month:
Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes,
She married. O, most wicked speed, to post
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
It is not nor it cannot come to good:
But break, my heart; for I must hold my tongue.

Posted by Lawrence Auster at October 07, 2008 10:09 AM | Send