November 2023 Archives

No matter what the song says, it does rain in southern California. All the damn time in March of El Nino years.

The most recent storm had finished blowing through earlier that evening. I didn't like working after dark, but the compliance reports just couldn't wait any longer. My boss, "Call me George" Martinez, had informed me that the EPA was crawling all over him and that if the hazardous usage and disposal reports weren't completed by the time he got to work in the morning, I would be joining the ranks of the unemployed. In blue state basket case California, in the middle of the worst economy of the last eighty years. Jerk.

Overall, Riverside's not a bad town. I've got a small apartment not too far from the UC campus. The complex is full of students with a smattering of old fogeys too poor and too stubborn to leave, and working class stiffs, not to mention hybrids like me. The ones I've talked to were alright.

But this wasn't there. The warehouse sits in a commercial district near where the 91 dies and turns into the 215 at the 60 merge. There are some rough people nearby, in the old twenties and thirties housing they threw up back before tract housing. Tiny lots, old decaying houses, ancient plumbing and wiring, never updated. Paint cracked, chipped, and peeling. Calling them Craftsmen would be implying a level of charm that simply didn't exist. Streets jammed with old junker cars. Chain link fences, neglected lawns, junk left wherever someone dropped it because it was too much effort to clean up. An occasional abuela put in a few flowers that just made the rest of the neighborhood look even more pitiful. Rough people, mostly poor hispanics with the occasional white trash or black, human refuse that just didn't have what it took to get ahead in the world as it had become. Some were disabled, most simply never applied themselves much. Get a second or third generation in there, and you got some real gangbanging. Easy path to see, damned near impossible to make it work into a real life worth living. Enough to make me appreciate my parents, who escaped that world and made sure I knew enough not to fall back.

The gangs had been cooped up inside most of the previous ten days. El Nino storms came through one after another. Maybe they wouldn't drown or freeze you, but they were cold, wet, and miserable - at least by the standards of California weather. Nobody came out when it was raining without a good reason why they had to be out there and then, but once it stopped a light jacket would keep you warm, and the hoodies would be out looking to burn off some energy. It's not like they had anything better to do.

And here I was, a 28 year old woman leaving the building all by myself in the dark just after eight-thirty with no one around. Just bad luck the four guys in jackets walking up the other side of the street at the exact wrong time. No key to get back in - damn "Call me George" to hell. I picked up my pace. If I could get to my car - beater that it is - and lock the doors there was a chance I'd be able to drive away.

Mistake. The hoodies started to run. Now there was some effort in it for them, things were looking worse for me. Cell phone, you say? I could grab the phone and push the number to dial 911, but it wouldn't do me a bit of good. Typical response time was thirty minutes. By the time the cops showed up, it would be long over. I was about to do it anyway when it happened.

I swear on my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ that this happened. He looked like an Angel of the Lord, minus the wings. Hanging up there in the air. Well, not hanging - he was falling, though not like he was getting pulled - more like he was riding an escalator that wasn't there. At least six five, thin as a rail, with a softly glowing sword of all the improbable things. Wearing what looked like some kind of uniform, dark with lighter trim, cut like nothing I'd ever seen.

I don't know what he did to call attention to himself, but all of a sudden the 'bangers noticed him. Not just the 'bangers, but everything's attention was wrenched towards him as if someone grabbed our heads, sunk hooks into our eyeballs and made us look. Right down to the rats in the dumpsters.

That was enough for the 'bangers. They hauled out their guns and started banging away. The visitor looked puzzled for an instant, then the sword vanished, and I saw a flash from him. Something in his hand - didn't did get a good look at what it was. The gang members fell over so fast it was over before I could twitch. Damn! The guy was fast. I'd never seen anything like that even in the movies.

One look showed four lifeless bodies with blood starting to pool. The visitor lit with catlike grace, apparently as unconcerned as if nothing had just happened. I had a decision to make, and I did. I jumped in my car and got the hell out of Dodge. I didn't want to be anywhere in the neighborhood when the cops finally got there. I didn't stop to say thanks, I definitely didn't talk to him, I just jumped in and went. I didn't slow down until I was home. I might have run a red light or two; I really couldn't tell you with any certainty.

Copyright 2013 Dan Melson. All rights reserved.

For tolerably obvious reasons, our Morelli guests were kept confined in a special area of the ship; not really a jail or whatever they called a jail onboard a ship. Just spare crew quarters, modified for their use. Since I was their liason, I was summoned to the fabrication shop to hear the explanation of the shelter they planned for Motafo to prevent his death in the likely event his Council ordered him to be bombed. The set up the engineers came up with to protect Motafo was simple enough. They built a small bondsteel shelter and gave it a hull-charging unit. A battery, a life support system, and Motafo's own suit radio completed the setup. "They said they'd pick him up in a local day. Plenty of power to keep everything running for two, probably three days. Plug here, adapted to his suit's charger to keep him topped off. He'll get knocked around if they bomb him, but he should come through it just fine. Flip this switch as soon as he's sealed, use this wire to connect to his suit antenna. We recharged his suit, in case he needs the air and power in it. Tell him he might want to disconnect power and the antenna from his suit if he has warning of a bomb - It might transmit an electromagnetic pulse if connected. The whole thing will self-destruct when power gets to one iprime, in case they do actually pick him up."

"You're not worried about them figuring out the tech?"

"Amn, the only thing they might figure out that they don't have now is the hull-charge unit. Even if they do somehow keep it intact, the only thing they might learn to use it for is hull charge." "Amn" meant 'someone of higher rank not in the chain of command.' I doubted that I ranked the engineer in any way; he wore the gold disc of a Section Private while I was a civilian specialist. Doubtless he was just being polite.

"Not the capacitor?"

"Amn, that's the one thing it's impossible to disconnect from the power supply and self-destruct."

Point taken. I knew I was no engineer; I'd only been exposed to Imperial tech at a distance myself. I hadn't even saved up enough for my own converter. At home, I still cooked all my own meals. If I lived to be a thousand, I'd never sample half the food and drink recipes available in Hamthar Four's public database. That said, I was already missing my Diet Dr. Pepper; maybe I'd figure out how to buy that recipe for my personal use. "Thank you. Motafo may be an alien, but he doesn't deserve to die because his leaders are a bunch of useless leeches."

"We all feel sorry for him. The situation isn't of his making, he's simply a convenient scapegoat."

We didn't have long to wait after that. The Morelli had responded to Sergeant Mitrisa's request for routing by telling her basically, 'Get there as fast as you can.' Ambassador DeelKonosh said showing off our capability would be a good thing, so Mitrisa put us stationary at an altitude of two isquare in a single Vector. From there, we could have landed in a little over a minute if she'd wanted to risk high-power maneuvering during a landing, but instead she hovered in place while she had the shelter loaded in the cargo bay of a cutter for transport. A second cutter was tasked with bringing Motafo (and incidentally me and two escorts) to the surface.

I'd worn an Imperial survival suit before. It was basically a skin-tight mesh with a layer of stretchy padded material next to the skin, and a metallized exterior layer. Small backpack with a siphon, converter, and air reservoir for eight or ten minutes, radio,and a glassteel helmet completed the ensemble. The siphon provided power, the converter kept the air reservoir full. If either the siphon or converter failed, you had until the air reservoir ran out to find a supply, but it generally wasn't much of an issue in the situations where you wore one. A cheap solution for the problem of going into zero pressure in a controlled situation; only the plumbing was uncomfortable.

It occurred to me to ask, "What if I fart?"

Private Mosser answered, "Assuming it leaks up to the helmet somehow, hold your breath until the converter clears it out. Twenty seconds will handle the worst of it. You're lucky; it takes longer for one of these." The two of them were wearing Planetary Surface combat armor. He was a big guy anyway, about 190 centimeters Earth measure, broad shouldered and heavy built. Even Private Justila, twenty-five centimeters shorter out of armor, loomed over me like an ogre. Combat armor really only added about fifteen centimeters of height, but the suits were so bulky it seemed like more.

"Must be tough if you're in a combat situation, and your eyes are watering."

"That's part of what datalinks are for," Justila responded, "Helping you target and keep track of threats you might not be able to see."

Motafo's eyes were enlarged. "I must say, you sound like you have experience."

After I translated, Justila responded, "Yeah, been there, done that. Ripped one in the middle..."

Mosser interrupted her, "Let's not burden him with too much information. The plumbing handles solid and liquid well, but gas sometimes leaks. Leave it at that."

"Better than what we Morelli have," Motafo remarked, "The only thing to clear our suit environment is our own lungs."

Must be rough - especially as the Morelli ate more vegetable matter than humans. Still, I understood what Earth's primitive astronauts contended with before the Empire found us had been essentially similar.

It took Mosser and Justila about thirty seconds after we landed to haul the shelter out of the other cutter and set it down on the desolate, airless surface of the Morelli's outer moon. It was emplaced even before the cutter that had carried it down from Hamthar Four departed soundlessly. The shelter still had plenty of mass, but the gravity here was so light I had trouble walking. The two military people, however, had training in light gravity. I picked my way over to the shelter and explained to Motafo what the engineer had told me a half-hour previous. There was barely enough room inside for the two of us in our suits. "No sensors, but my understanding is we'll be keeping you updated by radio." Fortunately, Morelli were a burrowing species - claustrophobia was not one of their problems.

"So I wait and hope."

"And unplug yourself if we warn you of a bomb. We don't know what damage an electromagnetic pulse might do to your suit or radio, but inside the shelter and without direct connection, you should be well-shielded."


"I hope that your Community welcomes you back. If we do not see each other again, I wish you well, Motafo of the Morelli."

"And I you, Tessa of the Empire."

I shimmied backwards out of the shelter, and Mosser closed the hatch. There was no air to transmit the sound, but Motafo should be getting an indicator he was sealed. I started picking my way back to the cutter we'd arrived in.

"Good day to my friends of the Empire," I heard Motafo say, as I reached the ship, "I have activated the life support unit and tested its product. I should be comfortable until the arrival of the Community vessel."

"Good to know," I replied. I entered the human-sized personnel hatch and it closed behind me.

What the hell? I sent to the pilot via datalink, Mosser and Justila are still outside!

Relax, they're staying to play nursemaid, just in case.

I heard nothing of this part of the plan!

Because what you don't know, you can't spill , Mosser himself sent. Don't worry, Hamthar Four has moved to stationary orbit overhead. Even if we have to haul the alien along with us, our suits can make it in ten minutes or less.

How come you're not wearing Guardian insignia?

Because I haven't earned it yet. But auros, which includes telepathy, is the first of the disciplines operants learn.

What if they bomb you?

Combat suits are plenty to protect us from primitive atomic weapons. We'll be fine.

Which was about the time I felt the cutter dock. Imperial ships could move if they had reason, but I hadn't felt any flutter in the onboard gravity. So far I never had, but for some reason I kept expecting to. The personnel hatch opened again, followed by the door to the control cabin. A dark-haired, olive-skinned woman I didn't know exited, gesturing to me to precede her out the door. I popped my helmet, still feeling outraged, "Why didn't you tell me?" I demanded of her in Traditional.

"Because the Ambassador said not to," she replied, as if it were as simple as that. When I stood there dumbfounded, she shrugged and passed by me, unconcerned.

Copyright 2023 Dan Melson. All RIghts Reserved.

Excerpt One is here

Excerpt Two is here

Excerpt Three is here

On Getting Rich Quick in Real Estate

I keep running into people who paid money for a get rich quick seminar and are looking to buy property for zero down and immediately sell it for a $50,000 profit. Somebody With A Testimonial Told Them How It Could Be Done.

Sorry folks but the people with the real secrets to getting rich don't sell them for $199 at the Holiday Inn. They didn't do it during the stock market bubble, and they're not doing it now in real estate. As I told people back then regarding the stock market, don't confuse a rising frothy market with investment genius. And that rising frothy market has now changed. Deals like that do happen, but they're always less common than the People With Testimonials will admit, and they are snapped up quickly. Usually they never make it as far as the Multiple Listing Service. Before they're even entered into the database of available properties, they are sold, and they rarely fall out of escrow because the people who buy them know what they are doing.

Consider, for a moment, yourself on the opposite side of the transaction. You're not going to intentionally sell your valuable property for less than it is worth, are you? And if you're buying, you're certainly not going to pay more than market value, are you? Remember that Wile E. Coyote ended up at the bottom of the canyon under a rock for more reasons than that the Author was on The Other Side. "Super Genius!" Says so right there on the label. But betting large amounts of money on The Stupidity Of The Other Side is a mark's game.

About the only reliable source of "quick flips" for profit are distress sales. In no particular order, most of these are people in foreclosure, estate sales where neither the estate nor the heirs can keep the payments up long enough to sell normally, and where somebody's been transferred and has to sell now. The requirements are that they have large amounts of equity, not short sales or even lender-owned property, and the need for a quick sale.

These people get mobbed by prospective buyers, and by agents looking to represent them in the sale. Everybody wants something for nothing, and one of each group is going to get it. One agent is going to get a transaction where if it gets as far as the MLS, all he's got to do is type it in and bingo, the buyers will line up. One buyer is going to get to buy for a price less than other comparable properties. Usually, they're the same person. The multimillionaire brokers all usually each have at least one going on.

The issue for these buyers in distress sales that is rarely addressed until it gets to actually making the deal is that they're going to need a certain amount of cash that they are prepared to lose. Putting myself in the position of the person who has to sell, I'm not going to give this person the sole shot at buying if I'm not pretty certain he can deliver. The only way to measure this is cash - how much they can put down on the property. How much of a deposit they can make that I can keep if they can't qualify. Remember that in this case the one thing a distress seller cannot afford is a buyer who can't consummate the deal quickly - unless the seller is going to get to keep something substantial for the experience. If you don't want to buy on those terms, than at that price someone else will. The multimillionaire real estate brokers, for instance. There are a lot of people who make a very good living at foreclosures because they go around from foreclosure to foreclosure offering cash for price below what it would otherwise sell for. Matter of fact, they pretty much saturate the foreclosure market. The chances of a seller in this position accepting an offer without a substantial cash forfeiture for nonperformance are basically identical to the chances of them having a listing agent that doesn't understand the situation. And quite often, that listing agent makes an offer themselves, in violation of all that is ethical.

Get religion about this point: There is ALWAYS a reason for a low asking price. Usually, a noticeably low asking price should be even lower than it is. Unless they're a philanthropist looking for some random person to donate money to, this seller wants to get as much for the property as they can. What they're hoping for is a buyer who doesn't know what a really bad situation they're getting into. "A cracked slab? How bad could it be?" is probably the classic example of this (The answer was about $300,000 in one case, but it could be as low as $20-25k). These sellers have been dealing with the situation. They've had a reason to become intimately familiar with the problems. They're hoping for an unsuspecting buyer whose agent wants an easy transaction and will not explain to them, or simply does not know, what those buyers are getting themselves into. I could certainly keep my mouth shut and do more transactions, easier, if I didn't take the time to tell my buyers everything I know about what they're getting into. I just had a buyer who loved the floor plan so much on a property with mold infestation right out in the open that he wanted to make an offer, even after I told him "Anywhere from ten to two hundred thousand to fix, maybe more, and probably at the upper end of that because you can see how it has spread". Luckily, his wife talked him out of it. The universe knows that most of these good deeds don't go unpunished. But that's what I'm theoretically getting paid for, and as often as I do my job and it causes them to get angry and I don't get paid, it's preferable to the eventual consequences of not doing the whole job and getting paid for it.

There's a newsletter I get from the State of California every three months. It's always got a long list of people who are losing their licenses. So if your agent tries to really explain something like this, listen to them. They're not trying to talk you out of the Deal Of The Century so that someone else can get it (the Deal of the Century in real estate comes around surprisingly often if you can afford it). They're trying to make certain you go in with your eyes open. It's likely to be a better agent than the guy who thinks "Okay, I've told you that the hill is known to be unstable, so I'm covered. It's not my fault that you didn't instantly understand that this means it's likely that one day it will fall on your house."

(On the Mold House: In the meantime, I called and left a message for the agent, and she returned my call and left a very accusatory, defensive message about "What is the documentation for your accusation of mold damage?" Opening my eyes, you silly ostrich - it's clearly visible - Eeewww! - right there, and there, and there, and there's moisture coming out at the bottom of the wall downstairs. My guess is that it's coming from the standpipe in the walls of the upstairs hall bath. I look forward to seeing her name on the List of Dishonor)

The typical property where there is real potential for quick profit is going to require work. Work as in physical labor that you're going to have to do, or pay someone else to do. Not to be sexist, but "The husband died (or became disabled) and the wife couldn't keep it up," is a cliché because it is so common. Sometimes the work is easy - carpet, new paint, clean up the yard and bingo! The property jumps in value! Sometimes the work is harder, and the profit is larger. And sometimes the buyer is basically going to have to tear the house down and start over. There is always a reason why the seller didn't do the work so they could make the profit themselves. Sometimes it's because they're lazy, sometimes it's because they can't. Sometimes it's because the work was risky, sometimes because it was expensive, and sometimes it's because the seller can get some poor fool to buy it who doesn't realize that they're going to have to make an investment that isn't worth the payoff.

Copyright 2016 Dan Melson. All Rights Reserved.

Sorry this is late. There was some behind the scenes drama; the server the website was hosted on had a crash and the website had to be migrated and for boring technical reasons I couldn't log in to some functions for a while.


It's quite fashionable in some quarters to brag about the low interest rate of your home loan. One question every good loan officer hates is "What is your lowest rate?" usually the first thing in a phone conversation. People think that this sort of rate shopping is going to help them. The fact is that it almost ensures they are going to get ripped off or worse, as millions of people have discovered in the last few years - and most of them don't understand that this attitude is precisely what got them into the toxic loan that ruined them financially.

First off, everybody doesn't get the same choices. As I've said before, somebody who can prove they make enough money, has a solid history of paying their debts, and offers the lender a situation where there's 30 percent equity (or more) gets a different set of choices than somebody who can't prove they make enough money, has a questionable history of paying debt, and wants to borrow 100 percent of the property value (or more).

Second, different loans get different rate-cost tradeoffs. The loan that most people seem to consider the most attractive loan, the thirty year fixed rate loan, is always the most expensive loan out there with the highest rate/cost tradeoff. Why? Because on top of the cost of the money, you are essentially purchasing an insurance policy that says your rate will not change for thirty years. Even when long and short term rates are inverted there is a premium charged for the thirty year fixed rate loan. It makes a certain amount of sense; insurance policies are never free, and the thirty year fixed rate loan is the most desired loan out there. Simple economics: Higher demand equals higher price. Goods perceived as more valuable carry a higher price tag. So if you're looking for a thirty year fixed rate loan, and all you say is "What is your lowest rate?" you are likely to get quoted a rate attached to some other sort of loan, or even a phantom, 'in name only' rate that isn't the real rate you're actually paying interest on. Even today with negative amortization loans gone, there are replacements which may not be quite so toxic, but are certainly nothing you actually want to be signing a contract for. There is a tradeoff between types of loans, where you pay for more features with a higher interest rate. To get thirty years of insurance that your rate and payment won't change, you must pay the highest interest rate. If you want to argue with me, consider the meltdown we've been having these last several years caused by toxic loans. If interest rate (or worse, payment) is your only data point from the various loan providers you talk with, you are likely to do business with the one who quotes you the negative amortization loan, not the thirty year fixed rate loan. Matter of fact, the loan provider who tells you about the loan that you really wanted is least likely to get your business in this scenario, because you're ignoring the important context of the tradeoffs involved.

Third and most importantly, for every situation and every loan type, there is more than one rate available, a set of tradeoffs within the same type of loan. Why is this, you ask? It seems obvious to you: Why not just choose the lowest rate, which has the lowest payment? It takes a little examination to see why.

The difference between the rates is in cost of the loan. There will be a rate called par. This is the rate at which the lender will loan you the money straight across. They don't charge you any money (discount points) to get a lower rate. They don't pay any of the costs of the loan. Getting a loan done really does take a minimum of about $3300 in closing costs (actually, that figure is for California, which believe it or not is one of the cheaper states to get everything done in - every other state I've done business in has higher closing costs), plus whatever the lender makes in order to do your loan. Whether points and closing costs are paid out of your pocket or added to your mortgage balance, you are still paying them. Indeed, when shopping for a mortgage, the phrase "nothing out of your pocket" from a prospective loan provider should immediately put you on guard. I explained at the end of the last chapter some of the legal fiction about why it's not always bad, but it should put you on guard. It needs at least one of two further phrases, "and nothing added to your mortgage," or "no costs at all," before it really means you aren't paying thousands of dollars. Why? Because loan officers have learned to sell loans based upon the cash that people have to pay, which is not the same thing as the actual cost. I've had people tell me they didn't pay anything for a refinance, when they had over twenty thousand dollars added to their mortgage balance. That money is every bit as real as cash out of their wallet or checking account. The only difference is they're pretending you're not paying it despite the fact that you are. Don't know about you, but I'm a lot more kindly disposed towards the person who tells me something is going to cost ten thousand dollars when that's what it costs, than I am towards the person who pretends it's not going to cost anything despite knowing full well it's going to cost ten thousand dollars.

Getting a lower rate (assuming it's for the same type of loan) costs more money in terms of upfront costs. In all the years I've been reading rate sheets, I have never once seen an exception to this, from any lender. It's firmly grounded in the laws of economics. For rates below par, you must pay discount points. This is an upfront incentive to a lender to give you a rate lower than they otherwise would. Every situation is different and should be analyzed with numbers specific to that situation, but as a rule of thumb: Unless you're getting a thirty year fixed rate loan and you have a history of keeping loans at least five years before sale or refinance, you should avoid paying discount points if you can, and accepting a rate with a bit of yield spread to offset origination is probably a good idea. The lower payments you get, quite simply, are usually not worth the cost of adding points to your mortgage balance. People who don't qualify for 'A paper' may not have this option, but more people qualify 'A paper' than think they do. These days, with true subprime essentially extinct, it's 'A paper', what professionals used to call "A minus" which is essentially for people who barely miss qualifying A paper, or you fall all the way to 'hard money' - and that's if you have the equity. Otherwise you get nothing.

The money you pay for a rate lower than par can be paid out of your loan balance, or it can be paid with cash out of your pocket, but it will be paid if you want that rate. If you keep the loan long enough, the lower rate will pay for itself, but those costs for the lower rate are an upfront cost and sunk into the loan whether you keep it long enough to break even or not.

If you were to spend (for example) seven thousand dollars on an investment that only returned four thousand dollars before you sold it, most people would have no trouble seeing that it was a bad investment that lost money, but they have a much harder time seeing this with seven thousand dollars added to the balance of their loan that only returns four thousand dollars in lowered interest charges before they voluntarily refinance. When you refinance (or sell), the benefits to that previous loan stop. The lowered interest rate you bought for those dollars is gone, and is irrelevant going forward. But if you rolled the dollars to pay for discount points to get the better rate into your loan, they're still there in your loan balance. Not only that, but the higher number of dollars in your loan balance means that you are going to pay more in interest charges going forward. The higher loan balance keeps costing you money, even after it has been refinanced. If you sell and buy something else, it means you're going to have fewer dollars available, and therefore the loan balance on your new property will be higher and you will be paying higher interest costs because of it.

Copyright 2015 Dan Melson. All Rights Reserved.

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