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Robert Price: Let's start small with this bailout — like, me first
| Saturday, Sep 27 2008 7:13 PM
Last Updated: Monday, Sep 29 2008 11:01 AM
The real estate market is in chaos and the trickle-down has affected everything, from the price of groceries to the kids' college savings. There's a sense that Something Big could happen, and it's not a Something Big we should be looking forward to. A major financial bailout is in order.
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No, not for Wall Street. Those people are the ones who got us into this mess, handing out dubious loans and bestowing upon outgoing CEOs — fired CEOs, in some cases — severance packages equivalent to the GDP of some small, developing nations.
I'm talking about a bailout package for me. Yes, me, personally.
I have behaved in a generally prudent and responsible manner, and yet I have lost $500,000 in the last three years. Not literally, of course. In theory. Three years ago, when people were snatching up houses in our neighborhood for ridiculous sums and Realtors were leaving business cards on our front-door mat like blackjack dealers, we imagined we had become rich. Today, since a house is only worth what someone will actually pay for it, we are broke. Totally, unequivocally destitute. So I need a bailout.
I cannot afford a lobbyist. How am I supposed to tap taxpayers' veins without a lobbyist? Then I remembered that the Kern County Fair was in town. Where better to make my appeal to taxpayers than there, face to face, one at a time? Seemed to me if I could get 500 people to give me $1,000 each, I'd be square. I went Thursday afternoon.
Edward Parra, who was manning the Zipper ride in the carnival area, looked like he might be understanding. He wasn't. But Cherry Lopez, who was working the Football Toss booth nearby, had a kind face. "OK, maybe," she said. "Everybody here gets paid Sunday." I told her I'd be back then.
Linda Swanson was getting the foods department ready for pie judging when I walked in and gave my spiel. "I'm in the same boat," she said. "I can offer you a piece of pie." If it's anything like the cognac pie I sampled here a few years ago, no thanks.
Joe Mier, a volunteer from the Buena Vista Museum of Natural History, was dusting the loose dirt off some Miocene-era fossils from Shark Tooth Hill. "I had a friend in the Navy once who decided he could get to be a millionaire if he put an ad in a magazine asking people to send him a dollar each. Maybe you could try something like that," he said.
Too involved, I said. How about if you just pony up $1,000? "If it's the last $1,000 you need," Mier said, "I'll give it to you." Success! Now I just needed $499,000.
Les Clark was drinking a beer with Jim Camp at the board of directors' dinner. "No freebies," Clark said, "but I do loans. And I send the boys around if you forget about me." I didn't ask about his interest rate. Clark is from Taft, so I assumed it was triple digits.
I figured I might be able to play the Democrats against the Republicans on this. They have tables in adjacent exhibit halls. There was a crowd milling around a 6-foot-tall Barack Obama cutout at the Dem booth. Coordinator Candi Easter thought my plan was workable, but then suggested maybe every taxpayer deserved some kind of break too. That, of course, would never work.
So I went over to the Republican table, where Patti and Victor Mungary were standing next to a 5-foot-tall cutout of Sarah Palin. (Isn't John McCain the presidential candidate?) They were charming but not especially receptive to my plea. "I don't think so," Patti said. "Buy a sign," Victor said.
Tamara Clark was reeling folks in to tell them about Holly Mitchell, who's running for Superior Court judge. Can you help, Tam? "Yes, facetiously," she said. She actually said "facetiously." I put her down as a maybe.
Tristan O'Neil, who was sitting at a table next to a sign that read, "We do foreclosures/short sales," seemed willing to help, too. But, oddly, she had just given away her last $1,000 minutes before, she said. Doh! I knew I should have acted sooner.
All this work made me hungry. Karrie Vandigriff sold me a piping hot corn dog at the DeMolay booth. "The government's willing to take care of the people who got us in trouble," she said, "but us little guys are on our own. Notice that?" Yep.
The corn dog was $2.50 but the mustard was free, so the afternoon was not a total waste. I do, however, need a better lobbyist.
Robert Price is at rprice@bakersfield.com.