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"I believe that there are semblances between seemingly disparate ideas, . . . if we can stand back and see a larger picture." Terry Tempest Williams

Oct 21, 2008

Sold to the Most Liquid Bidder


Some weeks ago (prior to the U.S. credit crisis that sent the world into an economic tizzy) I wandered, quite accidentally, into a foreclosure auction where in a matter of seven minutes I watched four San Jose area houses sold at less than half their recently assessed value. Two deals were “CASH ONLY” (as two giant screens proclaimed with bright red flashing banners above grainy photos of front yards in minor desuetude) with the starting bid set at $80,000; all were snapped up, I would presume, without the buyer having taken a single step inside the newly owned property. As the barker rattled off increments of five to ten thousand, hands across the cavernous hall rose and fell with less zeal than I would expect, shoulders slumped over thick books with page after page of tiny, facade photos for each property followed by copious lined spaces for notes. Neither in need of a house nor an investment property I couldn’t help but think, as the rush of numbers bounced about wildly through the mid-day air, “Should I bid?! Two-hundred thousand for that 4 bedbroom, 2 bath, on a spacious Bay Area lot? I’m crazy not to raise and wildly wave my hands about."

Having restrained the delirious urge, I walked one block to my intended destination, a live musical performance of The Full Monty wherein five poor-bodied, well-voiced men, recently laid off from their factory jobs, resort to performing a Chippendale-style male strip review to make money and. . . retain hold of some final dregs of self-respect? (In case you’re wondering, EVERYTHING comes off in the show – full frontal nudity, but some cleverly placed, powerful backlighting blinds the audience, veiling all performers in shadow.) So. . . shall we look forward to a salacious performance or two in our community as owners of foreclosed homes look to raise a quick buck in an ailing economy? Or have shirts already been ripped from backs with nary a penny tossed from a voyeuristic audience?

Final review of performances: Foot-tapping musical numbers in Monty; greater drama and pathos in Auction.

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