Tariffs and Goodbyes

As Trump rewrites the rules of global trade, we pause to honor a beloved companion who helped guide our family through far more meaningful transitions.

Good morning! With the flourish of a gold Sharpie and the swagger of a man who’s never taken an Econ 101 class, Donald Trump has now officially tried to rewrite the global trade order in his own image, loud, erratic, and gilded in delusion. Thursday night, just ahead of a self-imposed deadline, Trump signed a sweeping executive order cementing weeks of tariff threats, Twitter tantrums, and “deals” negotiated under duress. The global economy, in turn, responded the way any rational system would when confronted with a radioactive meatball: it recoiled.

Markets dropped, from a modest wobble in the UK and Germany to a nosedive in South Korea. Japan winced. Canada fumed. And the rest of us checked our wallets. The new tariffs, averaging 18% across the board, are the highest the U.S. has seen in nearly a century, a blunt-force economic weapon disguised as a jobs program. Trump insists it’s all about reducing trade deficits and “bringing the factories back,” but so far the only thing coming back is inflation.

It’s sort of a fevered remake of Risk: The Narcissist’s Edition. Trump imposed new duties not just on trade rivals but on allies, including Switzerland, which now faces a 39% tariff, and Taiwan, penalized at a mere 20% because… geopolitics? Meanwhile, he tossed in an extension for Mexico and teased that China’s deadline might shift too, because nothing says “certainty” like a man reinventing economic warfare over Diet Coke and Fox & Friends.

The administration claims $125 billion in tariff revenue has been collected so far, though that figure, like everything else in the Trumpiverse, comes with an asterisk the size of the deficit. Import taxes are paid not by foreign governments but by U.S. businesses and, ultimately, U.S. consumers. The Yale Budget Lab estimates the tariffs will add $2,000 in annual costs to the average household. So, congratulations America: your patriotic tax hike is now arriving via toaster ovens and sneakers.

Canadian Prime Minister Mark Carney tried to play it straight, calling the sudden 35% hike on Canadian goods “disappointing” and politely reminding Trump that Canada is responsible for just 1% of fentanyl imports, a rebuttal to Trump’s ludicrous claim that tariffs are punishment for the drug crisis. Canada, as usual, is trying to be the adult in the room while its southern neighbor gnaws on the trade agreement like a feral raccoon.

The Federal Reserve, for its part, has entered its anxious hand-wringing phase. Chair Jerome Powell, already the punching bag of Trump’s economic blame game, warned Wednesday that no one quite knows what these tariffs will do to inflation, labor, or consumer confidence. What they are doing is forcing Powell into a holding pattern on interest rates while he waits for the smoke to clear and the president to stop setting off firecrackers in the global supply chain.

Meanwhile, Trump’s promise of “90 deals in 90 days” has, shock, failed to materialize. Instead, we have a handful of coerced concessions (South Korea bought its tariff rate down to 15% with investment pledges) and a whole lot of economic chaos disguised as nationalism. Brazil, a onetime Trump ally, got slapped with a 50% tariff, because Bolsonaro faces criminal charges, and that’s apparently relevant now.

Again, this has nothing to do with trade and everything to do about control. It’s about looking tough, sounding dominant, and creating the illusion of prosperity while shifting the blame for stagnation onto foreigners and “bad deals.” It’s about reshaping the global economic order around one man’s inability to grasp that tariffs are a tax on his own people.

Even as the executive order dropped, Trump announced a delay for sea-borne goods until October, ensuring another two months of “uncertainty” for manufacturers, shippers, and economists everywhere. The Bank of America analysts, masters of understatement, said we may be entering a phase of “relative certainty.” Relative, that is, to a hand grenade.

So what’s next? More tariffs. More bluster. More promises of manufacturing revivals that never come. And a looming sense that stagflation, the deadly combo of rising prices and stagnant growth, is no longer a risk, but a trajectory.

Trump insists the door remains open to future deals. But at this point, the only people walking through that door are lobbyists, trade lawyers, and supply chain analysts clutching their spreadsheets like rosary beads.

And in the background, Jerome Powell wonders whether there’s a word strong enough to describe what happens when “uncertainty” becomes permanent policy.

Today, our family is letting go of Rhea, a cat, yes, but far more than that. For 18 years, Rhea was a steadfast guardian, emotional ballast, and comedic relief for my eldest daughter. She was there through college all-nighters and post-breakup tears, cross-country moves and quiet Sunday mornings. She curled beside textbooks, watched over anxiety spells, and bore witness to the full arc of a young woman becoming herself. In every chapter, Rhea was there: steady, purring, watching with that feline blend of detachment and absolute devotion.

Her little body is tired now. And though the heartbreak is sharp, the love is deeper. It is because of that love and in gratitude for all the years she gave that we help her ascend.

So this morning’s coffee is raised not just to tariffs and geopolitics, but to a whiskered companion who made the hard years softer, the lonely nights warmer, and the journey into adulthood a little less daunting.

Thank you, Rhea. You were, and always will be, family.