Art Shay in Swans, an essay titled The Real World Of Deerfield And The Coming Depression, looks back to the 1930's and forward to what he says will be a long slowdown:
"Things fall apart," Yeats wrote in the Recession just a year before my birth in 1922, "the centre cannot hold." He rued that the falcon could no longer communicate with his falconer, that mere anarchy was loose in the world, that the best (like us) lack all conviction, while the worst (you know who They are) are full of passionate intensity. Yeats's immortal poem spoke enigmatically about a rough beast, its hour come round at last, that was slouching towards Bethlehem to be born. The Irish genius hopefully entitled his work, "The Second Coming."
Would that our world was more like the Super Bowl, where the center cannot hold either -- but the penalty is a mere 10-yard infraction and a do-over. Not like poor Obama's onrushing Depression, inherited from Bush, which is about to penalize us half a decade with no do-over of the down syndrome that got us here.