The Housing Bubble

A composite of three related topic suggestions. “What Christmas gift would you get for you neighborhood realtor, mortgage broker, appraiser or any other related industry member?”

A reply, “How about a framed picture of a bird: Particularly, a vulture.”

Another added, “2006 edition - What Color is your Parchute?”

The second suggestion, “Here’s one: ‘If you have a message for David Lereah, what would it be?’”

One said, “Just how many Florida condos are you underwater on?”

Another produced this, “A Visit from St. Lereah (The Patron Saint of Spring Bounce).” ‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the (open) house,

Not a GF was bidding, not even a louse(lo-ball);

The twirlers were assigned to their corners with care, In hopes that St. Lereah could find his way there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of Plasmas-games danced in their heads;

And mamma with her statue, and I in my cap, Had just settled down for a big equity slap, When out by the Hummer there arose such a clatter, I hoped it was Ben, dropping helicopter matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash, It was stuck, wouldn’t open, damn subcontractor trash!

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow Gave a luster of mid-day to the FSBO signs below, When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature intellect, and eight purveyors of cheer.

With a little old driver, in an S U V from KIA, I knew in a moment it must be St. Lereah. Louder than a train wreck, his cheerleaders they cried,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them with pride;

‘Now, James! now, Donald! now, Alan and Cramer! On, Suzanne! on, Ben! on Kendra and Disclaimer! To the top of the chart! to the top of them all! Now REFI away! REFI away! REFI away all!’

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly, When they meet with an assessment, that mounts to the sky; So up to the house-flop, the cheerleaders they drew, With an van full of tricks, and St. Lereah too.

As I drew back my head, and was turning around, From the kitchen there came, Suzanne with a bound. She was dressed only in fur, from her neck to her waist, And her teddy was all tarnished, with flour and paste; A pan of warm cupcakes, she presented with glee, In addition I can offer, ‘Coffee, tea or me?’

In front of a mirror, the Trump man he stood, Counting each of his hairs…whatever the good (that is)…??? And Alan and Ben, discussed rather deliriously, The merits of taking, the Euro more seriously. The talented Kendra performed like a true busker, Buying properties galore, in a state next to Corn Husker.

The stock choices of Cramer truly did astound,But he researched them quite thoroughly, and deemed them all sound. He ranted and raved, then proclaimed with a thump; “These Builders on the DOW are ready to jump! Pulte Homes and Toll Bros, I give them full support.”

Privately of course, he was selling them all short. The other two shills worked as a fine team, Polishing granite and stainless, to an unnecessary gleam. The boss man himself, tackled the Big Trouble. It was his job to spin away, the Existence of a Bubble.

On TV he spoke with a confidence, so assured, He made the difference between debt, and savings, seem blurred. The old standbys he quoted, left, right and center, Like, ‘It’s different here now.’ and ‘Don’t be a renter.’

A press release he issued, based on reason so scant, I’m sure it would embarrass, old Immanuel Kant. A flask of straight Kool-Aid, he finished in one chug; Declared ‘Mission Accomplished,’ then ranted so smug, ‘The Oracle of Omaha has nothing on me, The California Orifice…Second quarter, you’ll see.’

Then laying his fingers aside of his toes, Up the lower extremity of his digestive tract, he rose; He hovered a moment, then to his team gave a whistle, Then away they all drove like the down of a thistle. But I could hear him profane, and too frequently announce; ‘St. Lereah to all, and to all a Spring Bounce.’

And a more serious suggestion, “Considering the ‘potential fallout’ that many here predict, a great discussion could go like this. You’ve just been assigned the most powerful position in the United States, your decisions will become effective immediately - would you lower/raise rates (reasons why). Would you bail out homeowners or let them hang out in the wind. The list goes on.”

A reply, “Raise interest rates to: 17.211 % for a 30 year fixed loan. It would put to an end… the question about who can afford a house based on their income among other things.”

Another said, “Disband the ‘Federal Reserve,’ and go back on the gold standard at whatever gold price it would take to pay off all the outstanding ‘Federal Reserve Notes.’ These steps would make the rest of the issues fade into the background.”

One was specific. “Raise FFR to 6%. Announce that we will be major inflation hawks, and that the ‘govt numbers’ will correlate with what REAL people see in REAL life. No more hedonics, substitutions, ‘core’ rates, etc. Housing (50/50 mortgage/rent), healthcare, education, food, water, & utilities will the the primary costs factored in the new CPI numbers. Stop printing money.”

“Fine anyone with a licence (RE broker, mortgage broker, stock broker, etc.) who knowingly lies or tries to conceal the truth if the truth is relevant to those in his/her audience. Take away the licence of those who violate the ‘honesty’ law more than three times in a 10-year period.”

“Let the FBs twist in the wind, and the mortgage lenders with them. No bailouts for anyone. Fraud should be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.”