1. Richard Dreyfus
2. Satan
3. Residential Realtors
4. Michael Bay, for product placement in The Island
5. 28 year-olds who work at Game Stop
6. John Stamos
7. Mexican Soap stars
The housing market is no longer booming, which means Glamour Shots is probably struggling as well. If you live in an economically robust area, with mud speckled residential streets from the constant flow of contractors and builders, then you know the horrors of Creepy Airbrushed Realtor Headshots.
They're everywhere, even in a down market.
Somewhere, in a dilapidated schoolroom on the outskirts of your town, real estate classes are taking place where derelicts line up to get a free real estate license with the purchase of the $89.95 Glamour Shots package.
Even in economically depressed areas you've seen these Glamour Shots on billboards dotting the freeways--and signs staked in front lawns with the same smarmy photos.
This trend is disquieting--comparable to if Enrique Iglesias stopped doing that thing with his lips when he poses for pictures.
In the past few years punch-drunk realtors have taken to the streets as if it were a scene from Newsies, thanks to a monumentally shady under-the-table deal: China laundering the US dollar overseas so that realtors can hawk artificially lower interest rates, creating the very sub-prime vacuum that has shuttered McMansions across the country.
That, and Alan Greenspan accidentally fell asleep on his TI-83 with his forehead on the decimal point before he left office.
For first time in a long time the housing water hasn't been chummed with dopey people with terrible credit, thus creating a glut of hungry realtors circling in the choppy waters below.
The McMansion symbolizes, more than anything else, why people are so comfortable brokering deals with vapid, drone-like house hawkers where women have ten inch bangs and the men look like Manchurian Candidates. See, realtors have formed an elite club of those who burned out in their hunt for a law degree, which is where they get their wax paper charm--completely transparent.
So let me offer one final observation. The most powerful and simultaneously highest level of residential realtor attainment is the husband and wife combo. This is a hybrid of supreme evil.
In every town across America there is a super couple of residential realtors with stage names like Rik & Vik.
Their billboard, a 20 foot two-headed Glamour Shot monster, is enough to make people drive off the freeway and into an orange drum of impact water. In their pictures they look sweaty, like they've just gotten done playing a game of Vietnamese shuttlecock and drinking milk, egg, and kitten protein shakes. They have catchy phrases like "Spouses selling houses."
When I see a tag line like that I look up to make sure the sky isn't falling. So I guess I'm hoping that a real recession isn't just around the corner. Can you imagine what a swath of realtors with no listings would be capable of if they banded together to form a new street gang?
At any rate, I can only take so many mental images of a broke-down Annette Benning before I start using a rectal thermometer to check my feverish concern.
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