Its done snowing, for the moment anyway. I don't think anyone really knows how much snow fell. The winds have been blowing 20 to 50 mph for the last 24 hrs, so its hard to tell how much fell since its drifted up. We have 4 ft and better drifts all around the yard. The weather reminds me of what snow storms were like when I was a kid. The main difference is I sound a lot like my dad did, complaining of the need to shovel.
So much for the global warming kooks.
3/24/2009
1/31/2009
1993
Dave was a good friend of mine in the late 80's and 90's. He went to college at MSU. I think he graduated in Dec of 92. Frankly I can't remember. Dave had an off campus apartment, a keg in the closet, and a roommate. Bob, his roommate, had graduated the previous summer but he had come back to do some prep work for his MCAT's. I can't remember Bob's exact educational achievements. I believe he was in the top 20 of his class and in the top quartile on his MCAT's. My weekends at MSU were focused on more of the "co" than the "educational".
Bob's dad, and mom were both ivy league med school doctors as was his grandfather. Being a doctor was the family business for several generations. Even though dad was a Harvard man, he encouraged his son to apply to a number of medical schools. The idea was to see which medical schools would give a good Jewish boy the best break on the price. So that is what Bob did. He applied to nearly all of the AMA approved schools, starting with Harvard.
Bob started getting letters back from all the schools he applied to. He saved them in a neat stack. He was going to have a get together when he opened them. I showed up for the letter opening party. (Bob was footing the bill, so I was drinking, in your 20's anyone buying you drinks can be your friend) He had a stack of several letters maybe 20 or so. We (those of us who showed up early) had several drinks in us by the time Bob got back from work and were in a very good mood.
Bob arrived home to find me and a girl; (I can't remember her name) making out on his couch (not that unusual an event in those days) and about 6 of his closest friends he never met before (Dave invited some of our friends to come). Actually he had met all of us at one time or another, mostly when he was throwing us out of his apartment at 4 am. We showed up to drink to his good fortune, or at least to drink his good whiskey. Bush mills and Jameson were good back in the day.
Regardless of the company, or our heroic efforts to drain his stock of booze, nothing could hamper Bob's good mood. Tonight was the night he was going to pick from the cream of the crop of medical schools. A few of his roommates drinking buddies weren't going to spoil it.
His pre-med buddies started showing up. Over the next hour or so they caught up with us in the drinking department. They also exceeded in the bragging department. This one got a near free ride at So Cal. That one got into a great program with this school. A couple of them were comparing notes on how hard it was to come from a black family, get into medical school, and still be accepted back in "da hood". All of them agreed Bob was the smartest and he was going to get into the best school.
With Bob properly inebriated and a crowd of about 15 buzzed on lookers, the moment of truth arrived. With much pomp and ceremony, the letters were arraigned from the most prestigious school down to the least. I can't remember the order he placed them in, or why he sorted them the way he had. I just remember Harvard was first. There was much joking and comments about how lucky Harvard was that he applied. That letter contained an ominous "we regret to inform you..." We booed. "Who the F#$% wants to go to a stuck up school in Boston?" With that and several equally cultured remarks we dismissed the school Bob most wanted.
With a shot of whiskey and a wave of the letter opener, he dove into the next letter. It was a reject too. So was the next one. The entire stack of letters that Bob opened in front of us that night basically said "you're exceptional but...we don't want you".
I don't know why he did it, but Bob got a box of thumb tacks and starting in the far upper left corner of the wall above the couch he started sticking the letters on the wall. He called it his "wall of shame".
For the next few weeks, Dave got the mail. I don't know if he was afraid of what Bob would do, or why he did it. I don't think Dave knew. He saved up the next batch of letters, wanting I think, to make things better. I got a call and invited to come to another letter opening party. This time our little group of free loaders bought the booze. We even scraped enough cash together to buy a bottle of Dom Perignon. We were ready for a repeat night of partying, but this time there would be a happy ending.
Except there wasn't.
Another stack of letters, this time bigger than the first, found its way onto "the wall".
Latter in the year, when my buddies lease was up, I helped him move out. The bottle of Dom was still in the fridge, unopened. There were many, many more tack holes in the wall as well.
I've been feeling a lot like Bob the last 4 or 5 months. That's part of the reason why I've been neglecting the blog. There is little going on that I feel like bloging about. So rather than bother my friends, I've been neglecting you. Please forgive me.
Bob's dad, and mom were both ivy league med school doctors as was his grandfather. Being a doctor was the family business for several generations. Even though dad was a Harvard man, he encouraged his son to apply to a number of medical schools. The idea was to see which medical schools would give a good Jewish boy the best break on the price. So that is what Bob did. He applied to nearly all of the AMA approved schools, starting with Harvard.
Bob started getting letters back from all the schools he applied to. He saved them in a neat stack. He was going to have a get together when he opened them. I showed up for the letter opening party. (Bob was footing the bill, so I was drinking, in your 20's anyone buying you drinks can be your friend) He had a stack of several letters maybe 20 or so. We (those of us who showed up early) had several drinks in us by the time Bob got back from work and were in a very good mood.
Bob arrived home to find me and a girl; (I can't remember her name) making out on his couch (not that unusual an event in those days) and about 6 of his closest friends he never met before (Dave invited some of our friends to come). Actually he had met all of us at one time or another, mostly when he was throwing us out of his apartment at 4 am. We showed up to drink to his good fortune, or at least to drink his good whiskey. Bush mills and Jameson were good back in the day.
Regardless of the company, or our heroic efforts to drain his stock of booze, nothing could hamper Bob's good mood. Tonight was the night he was going to pick from the cream of the crop of medical schools. A few of his roommates drinking buddies weren't going to spoil it.
His pre-med buddies started showing up. Over the next hour or so they caught up with us in the drinking department. They also exceeded in the bragging department. This one got a near free ride at So Cal. That one got into a great program with this school. A couple of them were comparing notes on how hard it was to come from a black family, get into medical school, and still be accepted back in "da hood". All of them agreed Bob was the smartest and he was going to get into the best school.
With Bob properly inebriated and a crowd of about 15 buzzed on lookers, the moment of truth arrived. With much pomp and ceremony, the letters were arraigned from the most prestigious school down to the least. I can't remember the order he placed them in, or why he sorted them the way he had. I just remember Harvard was first. There was much joking and comments about how lucky Harvard was that he applied. That letter contained an ominous "we regret to inform you..." We booed. "Who the F#$% wants to go to a stuck up school in Boston?" With that and several equally cultured remarks we dismissed the school Bob most wanted.
With a shot of whiskey and a wave of the letter opener, he dove into the next letter. It was a reject too. So was the next one. The entire stack of letters that Bob opened in front of us that night basically said "you're exceptional but...we don't want you".
I don't know why he did it, but Bob got a box of thumb tacks and starting in the far upper left corner of the wall above the couch he started sticking the letters on the wall. He called it his "wall of shame".
For the next few weeks, Dave got the mail. I don't know if he was afraid of what Bob would do, or why he did it. I don't think Dave knew. He saved up the next batch of letters, wanting I think, to make things better. I got a call and invited to come to another letter opening party. This time our little group of free loaders bought the booze. We even scraped enough cash together to buy a bottle of Dom Perignon. We were ready for a repeat night of partying, but this time there would be a happy ending.
Except there wasn't.
Another stack of letters, this time bigger than the first, found its way onto "the wall".
Latter in the year, when my buddies lease was up, I helped him move out. The bottle of Dom was still in the fridge, unopened. There were many, many more tack holes in the wall as well.
I've been feeling a lot like Bob the last 4 or 5 months. That's part of the reason why I've been neglecting the blog. There is little going on that I feel like bloging about. So rather than bother my friends, I've been neglecting you. Please forgive me.
12/29/2008
Mom and Baby
Are doing just fine.
After just 20 1/2 hours of labor we received a brown haired, blue eyed little girl who weighed in at 8lbs 4 oz and 21 inches long.
Mom cried with joy. Dad's eyes might have sweated a little, it was very hot in that hospital room. Mom and baby came home today after spending 24 hrs in the hospital. Big brother hasn't quite figured it all out yet. He seems a little put out that mom can't pick him up right now. Grandma and Papa are visiting and let him get away with murder. I'm not sure if he doesn't know that he has a little sister, or just doesn't care, now that cookies are an entree that he seems to get at every meal.
Daddy has gained flexibility in his approach to parenting. Our little girl was just delivered. Before the nurse started to take her measurements and clean her up, I went to the warming table. I looked at her and said "Hi honey, this is your daddy". Her eyes searched out my voice. Then she gave me a big toothless grin. I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't experienced it. My little girl wrapped a full grown man completely around her finger.
After just 20 1/2 hours of labor we received a brown haired, blue eyed little girl who weighed in at 8lbs 4 oz and 21 inches long.
Mom cried with joy. Dad's eyes might have sweated a little, it was very hot in that hospital room. Mom and baby came home today after spending 24 hrs in the hospital. Big brother hasn't quite figured it all out yet. He seems a little put out that mom can't pick him up right now. Grandma and Papa are visiting and let him get away with murder. I'm not sure if he doesn't know that he has a little sister, or just doesn't care, now that cookies are an entree that he seems to get at every meal.
Daddy has gained flexibility in his approach to parenting. Our little girl was just delivered. Before the nurse started to take her measurements and clean her up, I went to the warming table. I looked at her and said "Hi honey, this is your daddy". Her eyes searched out my voice. Then she gave me a big toothless grin. I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't experienced it. My little girl wrapped a full grown man completely around her finger.
12/24/2008
Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas to you and yours.
Thank you for stopping by and for your RL and e-friendship this last year. Nothing much has changed here since June. Except Res Jr is now 2, and we are expecting Ipsa 2.2 sometime between now and the first of the year. Come on tax deduction! Mrs Ipsa has been tormenting me with goofy names in case we have a girl. I've been practicing headshots. I guess we both have our ways of preparing for another arrival.
Hunting season was a mixed bag. I nailed an antelope. Called in a small heard of elk which my buddy shot a cow out of before I saw them. I saw elk almost every day for the next 5 days but they were on private land. I never got a shot at an elk. Deer season was a bust except there was a little more action. I managed to miss a 617 yard shot at a doe. I haven't figured out why yet. I was privileged to hunt a portion of deer season with a beautiful piece of American gunsmithing that was loaned to me by the manufacture. The idea being that I would write an article for a hunting mag complete with pictures featuring the gun. Mr. "Always gets a deer" didn't even get off a shot at a buck with the FA 454. Sorry Bob, I'll try harder next year.
That's about it for me. No job, no interviews, consulting work is all I've had going on. I may pick up another part time contract after the first of the year. I've put in with coal mining company. I'm even considering the Department of Revenue job that I have cut out of the paper but not done anything with yet. The in laws arrive in 2 days.
I guess this is a less than upbeat Christmas post. It's been a less than upbeat last 6 months here. Regardless, everyone please lift an e-glass or a real one if it's handy. Here's to you and yours. As 2008 draws to an end its my hope that its been a great year for you. May 2009 be even better!
CHEERS!!!
Thank you for stopping by and for your RL and e-friendship this last year. Nothing much has changed here since June. Except Res Jr is now 2, and we are expecting Ipsa 2.2 sometime between now and the first of the year. Come on tax deduction! Mrs Ipsa has been tormenting me with goofy names in case we have a girl. I've been practicing headshots. I guess we both have our ways of preparing for another arrival.
Hunting season was a mixed bag. I nailed an antelope. Called in a small heard of elk which my buddy shot a cow out of before I saw them. I saw elk almost every day for the next 5 days but they were on private land. I never got a shot at an elk. Deer season was a bust except there was a little more action. I managed to miss a 617 yard shot at a doe. I haven't figured out why yet. I was privileged to hunt a portion of deer season with a beautiful piece of American gunsmithing that was loaned to me by the manufacture. The idea being that I would write an article for a hunting mag complete with pictures featuring the gun. Mr. "Always gets a deer" didn't even get off a shot at a buck with the FA 454. Sorry Bob, I'll try harder next year.
That's about it for me. No job, no interviews, consulting work is all I've had going on. I may pick up another part time contract after the first of the year. I've put in with coal mining company. I'm even considering the Department of Revenue job that I have cut out of the paper but not done anything with yet. The in laws arrive in 2 days.
I guess this is a less than upbeat Christmas post. It's been a less than upbeat last 6 months here. Regardless, everyone please lift an e-glass or a real one if it's handy. Here's to you and yours. As 2008 draws to an end its my hope that its been a great year for you. May 2009 be even better!
CHEERS!!!
11/26/2008
Quote
"Mankind will never see an end of trouble until... lovers of wisdom come to hold political power, or the holders of power... become lovers of wisdom."
For extra credit who said it?
No fair looking it up. Hint, it is really old and more people quote this book than have actually read it.
For extra credit who said it?
No fair looking it up. Hint, it is really old and more people quote this book than have actually read it.
11/08/2008
Another Economic Post
I was at a dinner party the other night, at a state university. There was a number of "educated" people around. Conversation came around to the financial crisis. I interjected my opinion that the bailout was a bad idea. Of course I was laughed at by a few. One guy didn't laugh though. He remembered that I told him several years ago that I had been in the financial business, specifically mortgages.
He respectfully asked me why I thought it was a bad idea. I told him we were essentially socializing the banks and wall street and that every instance of government involvement in the markets I could think of, the intervention made things worse for longer.
He asked about causes. I talked about the blossoming world wide money supply. How the street was begging us for more and more MBS and how they wanted to get as much as fast as they could. I told him about the first sub-prime meltdown of 1999 and how we knew we were writing junk then and how the investors closed down our warehouse lines when the commercial banks yanked our lines of credit when they audited the paper we were writing.
There was one point I wish I had remembered. In 1996, but probably starting in 1995 or 94, the justice department started auditing origination files against funded loans. Then they took the zip codes and the HUD racial self-identity form and compared those files they classified as "minority" against "loan denied" files. Guess what they found? Minorities in certain zip codes (inner city Detroit) were less likely to get a mortgage than someone in say Grosse Pointe or Bloomfield Hills. This was outrageous. Under the direction of our first black president, this sort of thing was going to change!
It did too. Lenders were pressured to make more loans. Yes we were allowed to charge more interest to compensate for the risk. Yes we could charge more points and fees. That is what everyone did.
I had a loan that I bought for securitization on the street. Black borrower, black mortgage broker, black appraiser, black title company, my processor in the office was black, the only white people involved with the loan were myself and my underwriter who had to sign off on it before it went to funding (the funding rep was Asian). This was a true NO DOC, NO ASSET loan. What that means is the borrower writes down what his job is, how much he makes and everyone pretends he is telling the gospel truth.
Loan Type: Purchase SFR flip out of a L/C, 1yr seasoning (right)
Down payment: No cash/sweat equity
Employment: Self Employed Pharmaceutical Sales Rep (drug dealer)
Income: $250,000 per month (Never happened)
Value of Home: $350,000 (not even if it had been up to code and in good repair)
Credit Rating: He didn't even pay his cell phone or cable bill. His landlord (the guy selling the house, lied and said he made his payments the same time every month, even though he was going through the eviction process while the loan was being processed)
Every black person involved in this deal, from the LO to my processor said don't do this loan, its a bad idea.
Lending decision: Approved.
Rational: we had denied to many loans from that zip code and a bad loan was better then the extra attention of not writing any loans in that neighborhood.
I remember this loan for one reason. In my subprime career, out of millions in loans, I have only had one first payment default, that means they don't even make the first payment. It was this deal.
He respectfully asked me why I thought it was a bad idea. I told him we were essentially socializing the banks and wall street and that every instance of government involvement in the markets I could think of, the intervention made things worse for longer.
He asked about causes. I talked about the blossoming world wide money supply. How the street was begging us for more and more MBS and how they wanted to get as much as fast as they could. I told him about the first sub-prime meltdown of 1999 and how we knew we were writing junk then and how the investors closed down our warehouse lines when the commercial banks yanked our lines of credit when they audited the paper we were writing.
There was one point I wish I had remembered. In 1996, but probably starting in 1995 or 94, the justice department started auditing origination files against funded loans. Then they took the zip codes and the HUD racial self-identity form and compared those files they classified as "minority" against "loan denied" files. Guess what they found? Minorities in certain zip codes (inner city Detroit) were less likely to get a mortgage than someone in say Grosse Pointe or Bloomfield Hills. This was outrageous. Under the direction of our first black president, this sort of thing was going to change!
It did too. Lenders were pressured to make more loans. Yes we were allowed to charge more interest to compensate for the risk. Yes we could charge more points and fees. That is what everyone did.
I had a loan that I bought for securitization on the street. Black borrower, black mortgage broker, black appraiser, black title company, my processor in the office was black, the only white people involved with the loan were myself and my underwriter who had to sign off on it before it went to funding (the funding rep was Asian). This was a true NO DOC, NO ASSET loan. What that means is the borrower writes down what his job is, how much he makes and everyone pretends he is telling the gospel truth.
Loan Type: Purchase SFR flip out of a L/C, 1yr seasoning (right)
Down payment: No cash/sweat equity
Employment: Self Employed Pharmaceutical Sales Rep (drug dealer)
Income: $250,000 per month (Never happened)
Value of Home: $350,000 (not even if it had been up to code and in good repair)
Credit Rating: He didn't even pay his cell phone or cable bill. His landlord (the guy selling the house, lied and said he made his payments the same time every month, even though he was going through the eviction process while the loan was being processed)
Every black person involved in this deal, from the LO to my processor said don't do this loan, its a bad idea.
Lending decision: Approved.
Rational: we had denied to many loans from that zip code and a bad loan was better then the extra attention of not writing any loans in that neighborhood.
I remember this loan for one reason. In my subprime career, out of millions in loans, I have only had one first payment default, that means they don't even make the first payment. It was this deal.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)