Editor’s letter

Sometimes, going bankrupt can look like an awfully profitable line of work. This week, Bed Bath & Beyond started wrapping up its operations with a liquidation sale. Back in 2021, in the flush of euphoria in the markets, a bunch of clownish speculators—oh, sorry, investors—on online message boards came up with a theory that everything Wall Street said was wrong. No one really believed this, but it was a good excuse for very-online hustlers to buy up a bunch of stock in troubled companies like Bed Bath & Beyond and the movie theater chain AMC, and thumb their noses at the experts who said investing in struggling mall stores and theater chains was not a great idea. When the price of shares rose, the meme lords got out with their profits. Then the hedge funds came in, too—so much for sticking it to Wall Street. And as Bed Bath & Beyond circled the drain, it sold more and more shares to people who believed all the stuff about the investing revolution (see Making Money, p.33).

Which brings us to the debt ceiling. Each year, a predictable band of hustlers in the House GOP beats the same populist drum about the debt ceiling (see Main stories, p.5). Democrats have played the debt-ceiling game, too. In 2019, for instance, they also held it hostage to budget negotiations, and Donald Trump’s Treasury secretary, Steven Mnuchin, resorted to the same sleights of hand to keep the government going that the Biden administration is turning to now. But Republicans hold more cards in this because more of them can convincingly claim they don’t care if the U.S. defaults on its debt. Because, in fact, on the GOP’s right fringe, they don’t. The debt-ceiling standoff raises their political capital—the Washington equivalent of pumping up shares and selling them to the suckers. And if somehow the U.S. defaults on its debts, then for the caucus of kooks it’s all the better, just another excuse to claim the government doesn’t work and we should liquidate the whole thing.

Mark Gimein

Managing editor