Housing Delenda Est

A day after we looked into the hole where hundreds of houses were being tenderly razed by the loving dozerblade of the caring banks under the benevolent gaze of the compassionate government, the tallest midgets in the intellectual circus are peeing into the smoking cellar holes to double down on proving me prescient again.

The Obama administration may turn thousands of government-owned
foreclosures into rental properties to help boost falling home prices.The
Federal Housing Finance Agency said Wednesday it is seeking input from
investors on how to rent homes owned by government-controlled mortgage
companies Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac and the Federal Housing
Administration.(Link)

In some insane alternate universe, persons believe this is a good idea.

MarketWatch: Renting, Blowing Up Foreclosures Not A Bad Idea

In this bizarro world, people unable to afford a free house because they have no job will purchase an expensive house right next door if you’ll  simply destroy the empty free house. Further, in this outre galaxy, the government-supervised rental of housing will brighten up neighborhoods, and renters will take better care of properties than owners. Okey dokey, then. See you down at Spacely’s when you need some sprockets, space real estate cadets.

You’ll have to bear with me, as I’m a little behind the times on these matters. We used to build good, solid, liveable houses, employed lots of people to do so at good wages, and then we’d sell them to customers who would live in them, usually by qualifying for a mortgage by having a job themselves. I fear you’re going to have to bail Tony Rezko, Charles Keating, Neil Bush, Susan McDougal, or someone similar out of jail, or look under whatever rock they might be under just now, and ask them how it’s going to work from here on in. Any five Senators will do in a pinch.

A little later on in the AP article, there is a bit of a clue of what we might expect:

A federal “request for information” released
Wednesday included an option for previous homeowners to rent out the
homes or for current renters to lease to own. Private investors could
also be allowed to manage the rental properties.

I see. The housing industry will now be run from Washington using the ColorTyme business plan.Sounds like paradise.

There’s no word on whether Bank of America and Wells Fargo will eventually be nationalized and run on a payday loan/ pawnshop hybrid model.

We Had To Destroy The Village In Order To Save It

A few news stories like this one made the rounds last week:

There are nearly 1.7 million homes in the U.S. in some state of foreclosure. Banks already own some of these homes and will soon have repossessed many more. Many housing economists worry that near constant stream of home sales from banks could keep housing prices down for years to come. But what if some of those homes never hit the market.

Increasingly, it appears banks are turning to demolition teams instead of realtors to rid them of their least valuable repossessed homes. Last month, Bank of America announced plans to demolish 100 foreclosed homes in the Cleveland area. The land is then going to be donated back to the local government authorities. BofA says the recent donations in Cleveland are part of a larger plan to rid itself of its least saleable properties, many of which, according to a company spokesperson, are worth less than $10,000. BofA has already donated 100 homes in Detroit and 150 in Chicago, and may add as many as nine more cities by the end of the year.

Everyone seems mildly surprised by this. I wasn’t. Unlike “many housing economists,” ie: people on the author’s speeddial with exactly the same warped worldview and predilection for adjusting information to suit that worldview instead of the other way round, I told you this would happen a long time ago:

Banks, especially big, national banks, are not realtors. They’re not
property managers. They have nothing in place to handle owning and
selling the property they have on their hands. They will never use a
retail approach to unloading them. They will sell them in huge blocks to
investors, unload them on the government –who will unload them on
favored investors — or demolish them. These investors will be risking a
great deal by buying real estate, and they’re going to demand an
enormous return on that investment. They are going to make the most
rapacious developers that built the houses in the first place look like
Pollyanna
.

It’s getting lonesome only having myself to quote from the newspapers to prove a point.

They doubled down on teh funnay by mentioning it’s “in the Cleveland area.” Hmm. I seem to recall something trenchant about real estate and governance in that very area a year ago or so. Oh yes, it was me again:

Remember 2009? Every news outlet was filled with advice on cheap
houses you could buy. They were the same news outlets that told you it
would be a sound investment to install granite countertops and a
stainless steel wine cooler in your kitchen six months before.  Let’s pick the first one we find on memory lane: CNNMoney’s Radical Cheap: $1000 Homes. What sort of advice did the mainstream media have for us househunters?

Cleveland
is another city with many incredibly inexpensive homes. On Ardenall
Avenue, in East Cleveland, McMullen Realty has a listing for a
four-bedroom, one-and-a-half bath house for $1,900. It’s been vandalized
inside, but the outside is in good shape…
…”East Cleveland has a beautiful housing stock,” she said. “These houses just need someone to come in and love them a little.”

I’d never been to East Cleveland, so I took the street they mention
in the article and put it into The Google, as our former president
charmingly referred to it. And The Zillow. And The City-Data.

Ah yes. If Fallujah is too far to commute to your non-existent job,
why not East Cleveland! I did indeed immediately locate a house that
sold for $1200 last April. Of course, the city still charges you close
to two grand a year in property taxes to live there, which even with
today’s rock bottom interest rates works out to a $32,000 second
mortgage. But think of the amenities the city offers for the money. East
Cleveland ranks very highly on City-Data.
High pollution, lotsa rape, plenty o’ robbery, burglary, and car theft;
you name it, they’ve got it. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen crime data
that’s given in thousands
per
hundred thousand population before. And if you are thinking of getting
your tax money’s worth back in an education for your kids, City Data
ranks schools in Ohio on a 0 (worst) to 100 (best) scale. Shaw High School in East Cleveland is rated a “1.”

The first article goes on at some length, accidentally informing me that the banks will write off “the fair market value” of the houses on their taxes, be absolved of the need to pay taxes on or take care of the properties they own, and in many cases get the government to subsidize them to demolish the buildings.

I just fell off the turnip truck, of course, but I doubt that “fair market value” in this case with be the actual market value, which is, of course, not zero. Hold on there, you veritable Warren Buffett you; it’s not more than zero, it’s less than zero. The bank would have to pay you to take it. A lot. Detroit tried paying people to take a house. They’ve given up and brought in the dozers, too. There is only one building in any of these benighted cities that needs demolition, and that’s city hall. But they’re angling to have that be the only building left. 

Speaking of veritable Warren Buffetts, the actual veritable Warren Buffett is quoted in this article on the same topic, suggesting that destroying empty houses would be a swell idea, and it would magically lift the price of the houses that are left — like Cash for Clunkers crossed with Dresden 1945. He actually referenced Cash for Clunkers as if it worked. I suppose it would be bad form to point out Warren’s 19% stake in one of the banks breaking the windows and everything else in these clunky houses with a bulldozer. But then again, the Broken Window Fallacy is only a fallacy if it’s your window that’s broken. Warren just makes sure he owns no windows, and only sells glass, and he gets good press by observing that taxes should be raised on all wealthy persons that aren’t him, expounding from the offices of a shirt company that doesn’t make any shirts since he bought it.

Stories For The New Depression, Inspired By The Last One


Coal Breaker

 

THE GREAT MAN’S house. The daughters of the men who cracked his anthracite cracked oysters for him in there. The girls would come home and say they had a place in the great man’s house and would rub shoulders with quality, pa. The fathers knew him, though. A werewolf. A vampire. They would sit silent with their black faces and their watery eyes at the kitchen table and know what it meant to turn your children over to such men. They’d say nothing because there was nothing to say.

    They turned their sons over to the collieries. There was honor there — and shame. A man hopes for better for his children than he got. Nothing ever gets better in a mine. You come out every day like the womb. Born again. Or not. The great man would read of the little men like insects that worked in his seams, dead of the gas or the great hand of gravity. It was a story from far away, as their very daughters cracked his oysters.

    The men would see their sons fight back the plain fear that showed in their eyes as the sky passed away and the rank earth swallowed them for their labors, and feel pride, too. No man is ashamed of his son at his elbow in a mine. He is ashamed of himself, maybe.

    What is a man to do? A Welshman might as well be a black ant. He’s got the instinct to go down and up in that little hole and he can’t help himself. He knows no other thing until he knows nothing forevermore. He does what he does. And the great man did what he did. He saw the man’s weakness, and his strength, and used one to get the other.

    The great man had the other great men in his pocket. He could call out the guard on a whim. He could kill a man legal. He could kill him any which way. He could do as he pleased. He could live in the shadow of a boneyard in a palace and there were none dared to squeak. The men said we’ll vote and stick together, and the great man just put one more man in charge of them, the new black prince of the county with the thing with the letters behind him. It was organized, but not like you’d think. Things would go on behind a velvet curtain. If they drew it back you’d see the smirk of the hyena in there.

    Then there was no work. The union and the boss alike said no coal. The big machines and the kept men kept even the culm from us. The great man couldn’t mine the coal by himself, so he mined the banks and the government and the union and got his gelt just the same.

    The great man thought he knew men. But he did not know your father and his father. They knew the coal like he knew his oysters. They went into the woods where the seams lay close to the sky, and they began again. The very earth gave them what they always sought. The men sent to find them and stop them joined them instead. The trucks ran at night to the great glittering city where the coins slept in great vaults.

    The housemaids knew from where it came, for they had come from there themselves. They pressed the coins into the dingy hands at the alley gate and burned it in their own great man’s house. Their little hods filled with bootleg coal made a pyre for our great man.

    The great man’s house. Look on it.

Music For The Loose In The Joints

Wilhelm Kempff playing Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, 3rd movement.

He must be old there. Not sure when that was recorded, but it looks plenty recent, and he was born in Germany in 1895. He stopped playing in 1981 because he had Parkinson’s disease, which for a pianny player must be as horrifying as Beethoven’s deafness was to him. He died in 1991.

Eighty-ish and playing like that. Most people his age are carping about their allowance of prune juice in a home at that age. He was a German, and a European, and lived through WWI, WWII, and the the Cold War, and kept going. If our cable goes out for an hour we go on a four-state murder spree. Maybe we should buy pianos.

Watch him while he plays. He is not executing the music. He is extracting its essence. There are places where it’s not exactly sloppy — that’s the wrong word — but it’s loose in the joints. He feels it. Me too.

Call An Ambulance! Does Anyone Know The Number For 911?

What is this I don’t even.

It’s got a hint of: My hovercraft is full of eels, doesn’t it?

Okey dokey- Let’s hear from the experts on such matters. Luckily they’re all wearing Depends now.

Trouble in the rising sun,
Ladies dialing nine one one
Yeah, she needs to see a physician (Stat!)
For rumbles in her nether parts

That woman from Tokyo
Ate Boyardee
That woman from Tokyo
Smells no good to me

Looking like an eastern Queen
Smelling like a hockey team
Oh, I hope you live a bit upriver
She won’t be flushing Perrier

That woman from Tokyo
Ate Boyardee
That woman from Tokyo
She’s no good to me

Month: August 2011

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