Alright, let’s dive into the wild world of old news and chaos. So, here we go: Donald Trump, you know, Mr. “You’re Fired!” himself, couldn’t keep hush about Jerome Powell—guy running the U.S. Federal Reserve circus. Trump’s been barking about wanting those interest rates slashed like a discount tag on a Black Friday sale. The guy wanted him gone. Poof. Vanished. Abracadabra.
So, picture this. Trump’s on his soapbox, or, well, his favorite app, Truth Social, ranting like your uncle at Thanksgiving dinner. He doesn’t exactly sugarcoat his feelings about Powell, nope. Calls him “Too Late Jerome.” Apparently, ECB’s out there playing the rate cut game for, like, the seventh time, and Trump’s probably thinking, “why not us?” Since oil’s dipping, groceries are tagging along (eggs even? Who knew), and he’s boasting about the US cashing in on tariffs like it’s some big payday.
And then there’s this drama: one day after Powell’s speech at this fancy Economic Club of Chicago—picture lots of suits and serious faces—where he’s talking balance. You know, inflation vs growth. Made things go wonky in stock world; cue the sell-off frenzy. Powell’s probably scratching his head, pondering those tariffs throwing wrenches into his economic juggling act.
Not Trump’s first rodeo ripping Powell. Back in April, after some big tariff hurrah he called “Liberation Day,” Trump’s probably rubbing his hands together like, “now’s the time, Jerry!” Wants those interest rates down—FAST. But hey, this was the first time he verbalized wanting Powell out. Like, actually said the “T” word. Termination.
Powell’s like, “Nah, law doesn’t let you do that, bro.” His gig as chair runs till May 2026 unless some wild twist of fate happens, I guess. Politics, man, it’s like a never-ending soap opera. Stick around, see how this saga unfolds, or just, you know, go back to your regularly scheduled programming.
Boom. That’s it. Trump, Powell, and the circus in the economic tent. Not polished, not robotic, just raw chaos (’cause who needs perfection anyway?).
