copyright 2017 Chris Smith All rights reserved.
"At the request of President-Elect Obama, President Bush submits a request to Congress for the remaining $350 billion in TARP (Troubled Asset Relief Program) funding for use by the incoming administration."
U.S. White House Press Release
I was on a roll. The clock said it was 5:30 a.m. It was still dark outside and way too fucking early. The birds weren't even up yet. I lay in bed and tried to pretend I could go back to sleep.
But it wasn't working. My mind wanted to do sprints using fear alone as its fuel. So I let it. I tried to be calm but I was slipping. It was taking a lot of strength to remain calm. My strength was fading just like my hope into the dark sky above me.
I had to wrestle with myself to get to sleep most nights now. Mornings I'd wake up with my heart pumping and the freefall feeling in my stomach. Yes. But today was another day.
Maybe a good day?
Jury was still out on that.
I made a deal with my stomach and it allowed me a little fruit. I lied and told it everything would be okay. I thought happy thoughts while I chewed and did my best not to focus on the stress. When I looked at the clock again it was 8:30 a.m.
My Parents were down at the County Courthouse for a hearing about the Farm. Also in attendance was one of the Bank's lawyers, for Parcel A. The Judge was conferring with the lawyer in the courtroom when my Dad spoke up.
"Your Honor," Dad said, alerting them to his presence.
"Your Honor I'm here with my wife because this is her Farm and we'd like to keep it."
The Judge looked over to the Bank's Lawyer and asked, "So there's no reason why you both can't confer in the hallway and see about resolving this?"
"No your Honor." the Lawyer and my Parents said together.
"Good," the Judge said.
My Parents followed the Lawyer into the hallway. The Lawyer proceeded to give my Parents the down and dirty of the Bank's agenda from behind the lines. It was sort of ironic that it was Bank's Lawyer that was being helpful.
The Lawyer told my Parents, step-by-step what they would have to do to get the Farm back. He was honest and resourceful with all his details about the inner workings of the Bank. After all, he would know since he worked for them. The Lawyer didn't like the Banks either.
"They're a bunch of crooks. And they just want their money. If you're serious, you should make the Bank an offer. Offer them 30% less of what they're asking for. They'll probably take it because they wanted to get the property off their books as fast as possible."
It was the nitty gritty. They wanted the paper that only the green of cash can bring. But it still came back to the same issue. We had to have the cash first, in order to buy the Farm back from the Bank. We couldn't do anything to stop what was happening to us without the cash. We have the cash, and we can change all kinds of things. We can change our whole life.
No deal. Now, fuck off loser.
The problem was we didn't have the cash. If we sold off all our tangible assets, farm equipment, vehicles, heirlooms, jewelry, computers, video cameras and equipment, etc. we wouldn't come close to what we'd need. There wasn't anything anyone could do, unless they decided to fork out some serious money.
Who would do that for us?
Who would give us that kind of cash to save our Farm?
No one we could think of had that kind of cash they'd be willing to part with. There were a few people that loved us enough, if they had had the money, they would have done it without blinking an eye.
What about refinance?
Let's be real. The real estate market was in the toilet, the official term. The Banks and the economy weren't much better. Refinancing was a thing of the past. It was what we had been doing to help us get through and fund ourselves for the past ten years. Plus, even if we had wanted to, the Banks weren't exactly opening their doors to refinancing, despite all the money they were being given, almost carte blanche, thanks to the powers that be of the good ole' U.S. Government and all their collective brilliance.
I was of the mind that the Government's only concern was saving the Banks and fucking every home owner. At least that's how it came across. I mean, it wasn't like any of them were losing their homes.
"The current salary (2010) for rank-and-file members of the House and Senate is $174,000 per year."
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A TASTE OF DESTRUCTION Book 1 (EDITING) is the juice worth the squeeze seriesNon-Fiction
I woke up to a world crumbling around me. Our Family Farm was in the middle of foreclosure as an economic crisis rippled across America. Hope was fading fast and there was no end in sight to the chaos coming for us, ready to destroy everything we...