#Home Loan Blog

[kstcblogs]

How do I transfer a home loan from my current bank to another bank?

You can transfer a home loan from your current bank to another bank by following these steps:

Contact your current lender: The first step in transferring your home loan is to contact your current lender and inform them that you would like to transfer the loan to another bank.

Obtain a no-objection certificate (NOC): Your current lender will typically require you to obtain a no-objection certificate (NOC) in order to transfer the loan. The NOC is a document that confirms that you have no outstanding debts or obligations to the lender and that you are free to transfer the loan Read more.

[sahilpatil]

A Complete Guide to Home Loans: Everything You Need to Know | Bank of Baroda

Looking to buy your dream home? Our comprehensive guide to home loans covers everything you need to know about the application process, eligibility criteria, interest rates, repayment options, and more. Get expert advice and make an informed decision with Bank of Baroda.

[benicebefunny]

Far be it for me to judge people judging people, but righteous certainty in one's ability to immediately judge the value of another human being does not seem praise-worthy.

Judging someone based on very little information, brief interactions, or a single meeting seems like a great way to misjudge someone. You may be right some of the time, but the rest? It's not worth it.

No, no, by me, it's far more ethical to reserve judgment, to sit silently, stewing in resentment for months or even years, waiting for the exact moment to issue a devastating assessment of their character and all the ways they've wronged you.

I suppose that's just how I was raised.

[kuhulua]

FIIIIIINALLLLLLLLYYYYYYY

[udaysagar15]

Check out this post… "Navigating the Maze: My Journey with Property Taxes and Regulations in Bangalore".

[inboundremblog]

How Much Are Closing Costs in Orange County California: Real Estate Transactions Guide

Credit: Image by Alena Darmel | Pexels

Unlocking the Mystery: How Much Are Closing Costs in Orange County, California?

What are, and how much are closing costs in Orange County, California?

Other costs that come under closing costs are those charged when closing a real estate deal and can be paid either by the buyer or the seller, licensed agents, etc.

In Orange County, the specific sum may differ depending on parameters such as the property's value, the particular terms of the mortgage loan, and the details of the individual transaction.

Understanding these expenses is equally important, especially for anyone in the market who wants to purchase or sell a house in this prime area.

This article defines the various charges included under the broad umbrella of closing costs in Orange County to assist anyone in estimating the charges correctly.

Key Elements of Closing Costs

Loan Origination Fees

These are fees that the borrower perceives as a cost that the lender has imposed on the borrower for providing the loan. They usually range from five percent to one percent of the loaned amount.

Appraisal Fees

A realtor must be hired to make an appraisal to help determine the property's value. This fee may range typically from $300 to $600.

Title Insurance

Title insurance covers future events related to a property's title. The price difference ranges, on average, from $500 to about $1500.

Escrow Fees

An escrow company assists the whole deal with the cash distribution process, completing the entire process as expected. The costs generally used to obtain an escrow may range from $500 to $2000.

Recording Fees

Your local government could collect these fees from you to help you process the requirements needed to transfer the property into your name. They usually cost at least $100 to $250.

Real Estate Agent Commissions

Real estate agent commissions often vary from 5% to 6% of the sale amount and are shared equally between the seller's and the buyer's agent.

Home Inspection Fees

A home inspection costs between $300 and $500 and helps ensure that all the property's parts are functional.

Notary Fees

These are sometimes needed to notarize other documents that might be required, and the cost could be $100-$150.

Pest Inspection Fees

Some instances require a pest inspection, usually costing between $100 and $200.

Prepaid Expenses include property tax, home insurance, and mortgage interest. The figure may differ depending on the kind of property and loan.

Factors Affecting Closing Costs

Several factors can affect closing costs in Orange County, including:

Property Price

Closing costs for homes sold at higher prices are typically higher because they are calculated based on a percentage of the sales price.

For instance, expenses such as title insurance, escrow fees, and transfer taxes are often proportional to the property's value. Additionally, more significant mortgage amounts can increase loan origination, appraisal, and points fees.

Therefore, buyers and sellers should expect higher closing costs for properties sold at significant amounts.

Type of Loan

Besides, additional requirements are specific to some types of loans and the relevant fees. For example, the F.H.A. loan may be simplified by its relatively high costs, such as requiring a more significant down payment or other initial costs. Still, it has lower interest rates than conventional loans.

Negotiation

Commission may also be bargained between the purchaser and the property vendor. For example, a seller can offer to 'buy down' a part of the closing cost attached to the real estate to assure the buyer to close the transaction.

Service Providers

Consumers must opt for fewer service providers, including title companies, Escrow Companies, home inspectors, and other title closing costs. It is also important to note that fees differ from broker to broker, so it is prudent to note the fees charged.

Location

Certain local taxes and fees, like special assessments or transfer taxation, may vary depending on the particular neighborhood or district within Orange County.

For example, some areas might have higher special assessment fees for community improvements, while transfer taxes might differ based on local ordinances.

Both buyers and sellers must be mindful of these potential variations when exploring properties in different parts of the county, as they can impact the overall cost of the transaction.

Awareness of these factors allows individuals to make informed decisions and accurately assess the financial implications of their real estate transactions.

Reducing Closing Costs

Both consumers and sellers can take steps to minimize their closing costs, including:

Shop Around

It's beneficial to contact multiple lenders and different title and escrow companies to inquire about their fees. By comparing rates, you can strive to find the most reasonable and competitive pricing for your needs.

Negotiate

In most cases, there is usually a bargaining process with the other side about splitting or reimbursing some or all the closing costs. For instance, a seller may propose to the buyer that he or she bear the invoice of the owner’s title insurance.

Review the Loan Estimate

Borrowers are entitled to receive the loan estimate from the lender within three days of application completion. To establish the probable closing costs, read the document and establish whether any areas of understanding are ambiguous or if any fees seem to be inordinately high.

Ask for Seller Concessions

Potential buyers can also ask sellers for certain contingencies to pay some closing costs while bargaining for the purchase price. This can be particularly helpful in a buyer’s market because sellers might be more open to such an approach.

Use a No-Closing-Cost Loan

Different lenders provide no-closing-cost mortgage loans in which the closing costs are included in the Mortgage Balance or paid off through a higher Mortgage Rate. Although this helps save money initially, it leads to an increased term of paying off the borrowed sum.

The following points explain why closing costs should be considered an integral part of real estate transactions in Orange County, California. Both buyers and sellers must also be aware of these costs to conduct a transaction efficiently.

In every real estate transaction, expenses related to the conveyance of title to real estate must be ascertained, and these expenses may indeed affect the financial relationships between the two entities.

Get more fascinating information on our website at https://occoastrealestate.com/orange-country-closing-costs/.

[zinaanqar]

📢 Did You Know⁉️

"Israel Bonds" are unrestricted loans provided directly to the Israeli government, including its military. Residents of Cuyahoga County, Ohio, are demanding their municipality stop investing millions of dollars in these bonds as part of the #BreakTheBonds campaign.

What do you think⁉️

📥 Share your opinion by voting or commenting!

💬 Let us know why you chose your answer, and make your voice heard!

📢 Why This Matters‼️

As a parent living in Gaza, I have witnessed the devastating impact of these investments. My children like so many others are trapped in unimaginable suffering, displaced from their home, and struggling to survive amidst the violence. These bonds fund the destruction that threatens their lives every day.

🔗 How You Can Help

Please consider supporting my family by donating, sharing our story, or simply spreading the word about this injustice. Together, we can raise awareness, challenge these investments, and give my children a chance at safety and a future. Visit the link in bio to learn how you can help save innocent lives.

Every action makes a difference. Let’s stand for humanity!

Tag for reach

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[meme-loving-stuck]

ok im done venting im gonna find us a place even if we're broke and have to take out a loan in january. i can do that i have great credit. hell the only reason i don't take a loan to BUY a house out here is because my wife wants to leave the state before too long. a little house sure.... would be nice to RENT if i can though.... instead of another shitty apartment..........hurgh

[homeloanrateofinterest]

Grasp the complete HELOC procedure in under 2 minutes. Wondering if a HELOC without the need for an appraisal is the suitable choice for your needs? Discover the latest HELOC developments within.

[farzinblog-786]

Home Insurance: A Shield of Security for Your Precious Abode

In the midst of the rhythmic movement of life, our homes stand as enduring anchors, giving a safe-haven where recollections are woven and dreams take off. However, as sensitive petals defenseless against the components, our homes face gambles with that can break the serenity we value. At these times of weakness Home Protection arises as the watchman, enveloping our loved residences in a soothing…

[slyandthefamilybook]

since we now know that all those "my blog is safe for Jewish people" posts are bullshit, here are some Jewish organizations you can donate to if you actually want to prove you support Jews. put up or shut up

FIGHTING HUNGER

Masbia - Kosher soup kitchens in New York

MAZON - Practices and promotes a multifaceted approach to hunger relief, recognizing the importance of responding to hungry peoples' immediate need for nutrition and sustenance while also working to advance long-term solutions

Tomchei Shabbos - Provides food and other supplies so that poor Jews can celebrate the Sabbath and the Jewish holidays

FINANCIAL AID

Ahavas Yisrael - Providing aid for low-income Jews in Baltimore

Hebrew Free Loan Society - Provides interest-free loans to low-income Jews in New York and more

GLOBAL AID

American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee - Offers aid to Jewish populations in Central and Eastern Europe as well as in the Middle East through a network of social and community assistance programs. In addition, the JDC contributes millions of dollars in disaster relief and development assistance to non-Jewish communities

American Jewish World Service - Fighting poverty and advancing human rights around the world

Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society - Providing aid to immigrants and refugees around the world

Jewish World Watch - Dedicated to fighting genocides around the world

MEDICAL AID

Sharsheret - Support for cancer patients, especially breast cancer

SOCIAL SERVICES

The Aleph Institute - Provides support and supplies for Jews in prison and their families, and helps Jewish convicts reintegrate into society

Bet Tzedek - Free legal services in LA

Bikur Cholim - Providing support including kosher food for Jews who have been hospitalized in the US, Australia, Canada, Brazil, and Israel

Blue Card Fund - Critical aid for holocaust survivors

Chai Lifeline - An org that's very close to my heart. They help families with members with disabilities in Baltimore

Chana - Support network for Jews in Baltimore facing domestic violence, sexual abuse, and elder abuse

Community Alliance for Jewish-Affiliated Cemetaries - Care of abandoned and at-risk Jewish cemetaries

Crown Heights Central Jewish Community Council - Provides services to community residents including assistance to the elderly, housing, employment and job training, youth services, and a food bank

Hands On Tzedakah - Supports essential safety-net programs addressing hunger, poverty, health care and disaster relief, as well as scholarship support to students in need

Hebrew Free Burial Association

Jewish Board of Family and Children's Services - Programs include early childhood and learning, children and adolescent services, mental health outpatient clinics for teenagers, people living with developmental disabilities, adults living with mental illness, domestic violence and preventive services, housing, Jewish community services, counseling, volunteering, and professional and leadership development

Jewish Caring Network - Providing aid for families facing serious illnesses

Jewish Family Service - Food security, housing stability, mental health counseling, aging care, employment support, refugee resettlement, chaplaincy, and disability services

Jewish Relief Agency - Serving low-income families in Philadelphia

Jewish Social Services Agency - Supporting people’s mental health, helping people with disabilities find meaningful jobs, caring for older adults so they can safely age at home, and offering dignity and comfort to hospice patients

Jewish Women's Foundation Metropolitan Chicago - Aiding Jewish women in Chicago

Metropolitan Council on Jewish Poverty - Crisis intervention and family violence services, housing development funds, food programs, career services, and home services

Misaskim - Jewish death and burial services

Our Place - Mentoring troubled Jewish adolescents and to bring awareness of substance abuse to teens and children

Tiferes Golda - Special education for Jewish girls in Baltimore

Yachad - Support for Jews with disabilities

[kmt123whatsthetea]

Run, Rabbit, Run

Fred Weasley x reader

Requested by: @fuckyeahphelpstwins-blog

Request: “Fred Weasley with Playboy reader”

A/N: Thank you for the request! I didn't know whether to go down the ‘reader is a playboy model’ route, or the ‘reader dresses as a playboy bunny’ route. So I just thought “I’ll start writing and see where it takes me”. For one of my earlier twin shorts, I added ‘Bunny’ as a nickname given by George, but I think it's time for Fred to steal it.

T/W: Unprotected sex, Bathroom sex, Mirror sex

Being a businessman had its perks. After paying Harry back for the loan on the shop, the twins felt as if they were rolling in money. For the first few months, all they did was travel and enjoy the perks of having their first taste of freedom and a paycheck. They travelled across the south of England, showing their wares and merchandise to both the young and old, the rich and poor. They were even invited to have lunch with some of the big name toy companies to discuss branching out.

They didn't pay attention to the posters aligning the clubs walls, thinking it to be regular tat about prices and menus. But if they had, they would have seen the promotion of a ‘playboy party’. Maybe then they wouldn't have been so shocked to see various beautiful women strutting around the venue in skimpy leotards and bunny ears. They seemed to have taken the place of the wait staff, some were even flirting with the business men who drooled over their youth and beauty. The businessmen fawned over these young women like they were the first flowers of spring.

The hostess (also adorned with bunny features) led the twins to their booth where a gentleman sat in a crisp suit, a whiskey glass resting in his hands. The twins had had plenty of business meetings before, but this one felt contradictory. It was professional, yet the giggling bunnies that surrounded them felt almost like having a meeting in the middle of a themed strip club night. Maybe Fred would have kept his thought track on the business straight and narrow if you hadn't wandered over to his table.

That tight little black leotard and that irresistible pom pom of a tail just drove him wild. You even reminded him of a bunny. Innocent, tender. The picture of naivety that just called to him. Sure, you weren't dressed so innocently, but he could tell by that little glimmer in your eye that you didn't walk as big a walk as your heels suggested. Fred could hear your heels before he even laid eyes on you, and he fell hard.

You had always dreamed of being a model, to see your photo in the latest magazine or even on a big billboard. Some told you to dream on while others decided to open the door for you. Sure, prancing around in a bunny costume wasn't exactly modelling, but these were the type of people that could hand you your dream on a silver platter. And besides, flaunting never hurt anyone.

The ginger pair that came through the doors of the club didn't exactly look well to do. Their dull orange suits stood out in a sea of black pinstripes and navy linen. They didn’t scream money, but your legs carried you to their table before you could even stop them. You leaned down, your elbows on the table.

“See anything on the menu you like, gentlemen?”

While George and the potential investor gave their orders, Freds eyes stayed glued to you. Your eyes, your face, your curves, your legs. Anything that wasn't hidden was a feast for his eyes. He didn't need a menu to know what he wanted, but taking his order home with him would take some persuading. Fred’s eyes looked back up at yours only to find them looking right at him, an expectant look at your face. He kept his cool, a sly grin on his face.

“Well rabbits not on the menu, but i'm sure a pretty bunny like yourself wouldn't mind making an exception if I fancied a little taste”

Although you were used to comments like these, they made you blush every time. You let out your usual giggle and brushed your hand against his arm.

“Oh stop it or you’ll make this bunny blush”

Fred knew how cliche this was. He was no better than a hound dog. But instead of barking at this bunny, the bunny was driving him barking mad. He watched you saunter off, that fluffy little tail on your leotard capturing his attention. When the round of drinks came out a moment later, he couldn't believe his eyes when he lifted his glass only to find a note tucked into the fold of the napkin.

‘Meet me by the bathrooms X’

Now that was an offer he couldn’t turn down. Fred excused himself and left George to discuss business. The sight of you leaning against the wall beside the women's bathroom made his smirk widen. He pushed the door to the women's room open and gestured inside, following you in after.

Luckily for the both of you, the door had a lock. Meaning that no tiny bathroom stall was needed. As soon as that lock clicked, his hands went to your waist to lift you onto the sink counter. No words were needed as your lips found his. Red lipstick smeared and transferred, painting his own lips. Your hands snaked around his neck to pull his face closer. You wanted to see just how many lipstick kisses you could leave on his skin.

Fred pulled back and lifted you from the counter to turn you around and bend you over, your face inches from the mirror. Your hair was slightly messed up but your lipstick took the most of the carnage. Fred really couldn't help himself as his hands massaged their way up your thighs. That soft little bunny tail was just sitting there, he couldn't not tug on it.

The tight leotard fortunately wasn't too tight around your crotch, meaning that he could pull the gusset to the side and give himself access to the thing he craved most in this moment. Considering you had people fawning over you every day, he was honoured to find you wet for him. Fred’s fingers trailed through your folds, collecting your juices like a man finding water in the desert. He brought those fingers to his lips and sucked your sweet juices from them. This little bunny was sweeter than strawberries and cream.

He unbuckled his belt and pulled his throbbing cock out before his hands returned to their natural place on your hips.

“Maybe if you beg nicely, little bunny, I’ll give you a nice big cock to hop on”

Fred may have been just as eager as you were, but he just knew you'd sound so pretty if you begged him to fuck you. He wanted to hear you say his name…which he had yet to tell you. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, his breath hot.

“Beg Freddie to fuck your little bunny cunt and I’ll let you cum before I go”

He could hear the soft whine that slipped from your lips, making him chuckle and press his lips behind your ear. He had to hold himself back from sliding deep inside of you. Good girls begged for what they wanted.

“Please fuck me, Freddie. Fuck my little bunny cunt until I soak my little cotton tail”

Fred’s eyes lit up when you did as he asked. How could he refuse such pretty begging? He lined his tip up with your eager entrance and thrust in with such force, you nearly kissed the mirror screwed to the wall before you. It was hard to stop the moan that was threatening to escape your throat, one that could alert any passing patrons to your unprofessional activity. There was most likely a queue already forming outside of the ladies room.

His cock pummelled your insides, making more of your juices coat his shaft. His grip on your hips was tight while his other hand tangled in your hair to pull your head up.

“Look at that pretty face. I bet you wouldn't let those other guys smudge your lipstick. You wouldn't bend over the counter for them, would you bunny?”

You looked at him in the reflection, trying to keep your eyes from closing in bliss. Every thrust of his hips made it hard to talk in anything other than whines and moans. His cock pulsed inside of your tight hole.

“No, just you, Freddie. No one else. Please, I need to cum”

Fred chuckled and gripped your hair tighter, using it to fuck himself deeper.

“Well, well, well, turns out my little bunny is actually a minx. You wanna cum on my cock, you’ve gotta be a good girl and look at me while you make a mess”

Your eyes stayed glued to his, watching every expression that crossed his face as he pummelled your insides. The way his brown eyes glazed over and his mouth fell open with every squeeze of your walls. His grip on your hip tightened before he came, his cum painting your insides as your own orgasm hit. The scent of sex permeated the air, the sound of your panting bounced off of the tiles.

Fred pulled his cock out of you before readjusting your gusset back into place. He was determined to keep a little piece of himself inside of you while other men undressed you with their eyes. He smirked at the sight of your face. Your mascara had started to run from just how good it felt. He stroked his hand along your hips, holding you up as you came down from your high. He tucked himself back into his trousers before pulling something out of his pocket and stuffing it into your bra.

With one last wink, he left you in the bathroom. You pulled the item out of your bra to find the napkin you gave him earlier. Flipping it over, you found something that made you grin.

A phone number, followed by ‘Call me, Little Bunny’

[jtargaryen18]

His Inheritance ~ Chapter 35

A/N: The center photo is indicative of the reader's gown only. Not her appearance which isn't defined.

Part 35: Dance with the Devil

Series Masterlist

Words: 5.2k

Pairing: Mobster Steve Rogers x Mobster daughter reader

Warnings: References to mafia, reference to violence and violent acts, intimidation, dark seduction. This is a dark fic. Please read responsibly.

Disclaimer: The author of this work claims no ownership of characters aside from the reader, and original secondary characters mentioned. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and darker themes. By reading this work or any works on my blog (jtargaryen18), you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work hosted on any third party app or site. If you are seeing this fanfiction anywhere but archiveofourown and tumblr, it has been reposted without my permission.

Summary: For @alexakeyloveloki. Your father is the head of one of the most powerful crime families in Boston but he’s protected you from that life. In your quiet home outside the city, you’ve been cared for and protected. When the desires of a more powerful man with the will to dominate bursts into your life, all your illusions are shattered as he comes to claim what is his.

"You are almost ready," Yelena said with a smile, just after the stylists left. "Now the jewelry."

You paused, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your gown was an exclusive creation by a top designer, a beautiful sleeveless, a-line creation in layers of tulle, sequins, and matte satin. Shades of pale blue and gold transformed you, enhanced by the ornate way your hair was done, the subtelty of your carefully applied makeup. Beneath you wore the most elegant little gold heels that were surprising comfortable despite their minimal style. The stockings were sheer, hugging your upper thighs just below the skimpy ice-blue panties you wore.

The mention of jewelry brought up an unhappy memory and you knew Yelena recalled it too when your gaze met hers. How your husband's ex-mistress smuggled her necklace in for you to wear on another special occasion had never been solved.Had it been Neal? Hansen? A reminder from the not-too-distant past that your enemies could reach you at any time. A reminder to be vigilant. 

"What jewelry?" you asked carefully.

Yelena smiled. "I picked it up myself," she told you, lifting a delicate strand of diamonds set in gold from a black velvet box on the bed. 

When she draped it around your throat, you smiled at the way it completed your look. There were matching earrings, diamond studs each with a teardrop diamond dangling and catching the light. The set was exquisite. 

"Harry Winston," your friend told you, admiring how they looked on you.

"Nice of them to loan these for the ball," you told her, grateful you got to wear them. 

Yelena reached for the golden mask on the bed, holding it to you. "No loan. Steve bought them."

What?

"These must have cost a fortune," you mused. They probably cost more than everything else you owned combined. "Glad you're going with us. I'd hate to get mugged for these."

Yelena grinned. "Security is going to be tight already with so many important people there. The mayor will be there. One of the state senators."

You scoffed. "Why am I going? I'm no one special."

"But you are," Yelena told you. 'The fact that everyone wants you has been a powerful motivator in this game of chess. Your husband is completely devoted to you. Barnes would love to get his hands on you."

"Barnes would ring my neck the first chance he got," you pointed out.

Yelena's expression was difficult to read. "I'm not so sure about that."

"Hansen would for sure kill me," you said, putting your mask in place carefully. The soft mask of golden sequins fit over your eyes. 

Yelena's gaze dropped at the mention of the name and you were ashamed. You needed to work harder not to bring that up to her. And you needed a subject change. Fast.

"Who's going to be here with Nat tonight?" You weren't surprised Nat didn't want to go. She'd been through so much between the horrific end of her abusive marriage and all trauma of years being left to the sadistic nature of Banner. You wanted to make sure she was well looked after while you and Steve were gone.

"Clint is staying here of course," Yelena said quietly. "Dyson will be here too. He's arranged for extra security for the house tonight."

You nodded your approval. "What about Scott?"

"He's coming with us," Yelena explained. 

You smiled. Scott going had little to do with keeping you and Steve safe and everything to do with spending time with Yelena. You were pretty sure Yelena was aware of Scott's infatuation with her. Would she ever return his affections? You didn't know. Considering her tragic history, you weren't sure she could feel the same way towards him or anyone. But in the time you'd known Scott, you learned he was a good man who always had your back and never once questioned your authority. You trusted him with your life. You trusted him with Yelena too.

But would she ever give him - or anyone - a chance after all she'd been through?

You blew out an exhale, preparing yourself for the night ahead. "I guess we should let Steve know I'm ready."

"He knows," a deep voice caught you and Yelena both off guard. 

Your husband strolled into the bedroom and Yelena stepped back to allow him a clear path to you. He looked breathtakingly handsome in the classic black tuxedo he wore, tailored perfectly to fit his tall, broad-shouldered physique. His tawny hair was perfectly styled, diamond cufflinks winking in the light. His tie was shades of gold and blue to match your gown, a subtle touch but one you appreciated.

Steve moved to stand behind you in the mirror of your vanity, bending to fit his handsome face in the reflection with yours. 

"You look so beautiful," he said with something like reverence in his voice. "I can't wait to show you off."

"I'll be downstairs," Yelena said, making her way out to give you some privacy. "We worked very hard on her, boss. Don't mess her up."

Steve smiled at what he took as a playful warning, his large hands smoothing over your bare shoulders. Slowly, you removed the mask, placing it in your lap with your hands. His watchful gaze didn't miss the slight tremble of their movements.

"Everything is going to be fine," he explained. "I've been to this event before. All the rich, politic elite of Boston come out to dance and drink the night away and wallow in excess. It's probably Tony's favorite night of the year."

You could see it. And you were excited to go to the annual masquerade ball, as Steve's wife and not his trophy, and to enjoy a fabulous night on the town. You felt like Cinderella, going to the ball in the gown that truly looked as if magic had created it.

But you couldn't fight back an impending sense of dread. It had been so quiet in the weeks of your recovery and Steve's. Life went on. You were included in all the family's business meetings. The family business had recovered and was branching out, deals with three of the other four families made things even better. 

Not that you agreed with all of it. You weren't crazy about the loan sharking or protection deals the family made. The casinos and restaurants didn't bother you as much. And at least the family wasn't making any money off drugs or trafficking. Some of the stories about the business and how other families operated you heard now were just horrific. You made up your mind early that no matter what, you'd never allow the family to make money off the misfortunes of women and children. Never.

It had been very quiet where the Barnes family was concerned. Too quiet.

"I'll  be the envy of every man there tonight," he murmured, pressing a kiss into your neck. The soft brush of his beard made you shiver. A sensual smiled curved Steve's lips. "Are you ready?"

You nodded. You trusted your husband. You were going to do your best to have a wonderful night, just like he intended.

And still that little kernel of dread lingered.

You felt like you were in an old Hollywood movie to walk down the staircase on your husband's arm with the gown flowing softly with your movements. Honestly, you were grateful for Steve's help in keeping you balanced, relieved when you made it to the bottom of the stairs.

Dyson, Yelena, Scott, Clint and Nat were a small crowd, watching in admiration as you approached. Nat's smile was all you needed to feel like a princess. Her lovely green eyes lit up as her gaze swept over you. 

"You look perfect," she exclaimed, carefully hugging you. "I knew that gown was the one."

Nat had been the one to find it when the two of you went out shopping for it. And you were all too happy to give her the credit. You knew very little about fashion. You would learn. Until you did, it was nice to have the advice of someone who already understood it.

As Nat stepped back, you forced yourself to smile. She still looked so small, so frail. She had yet to gain weight and regain her amazing figure. Your sister-in-law seemed fragile, even with the protection and love of the man she'd always wanted. Even with the full support and love of her brother. It worried you.

Dyson looked worried too, but as you did, he put on a quick smile. "You two had best get going. The line at dropoff takes forever."

"True enough," Steve said, nodding to Yelena and Scott.

You stopped to hug Dyson. "Keep her safe for me," you whispered.

"You know I will," he muttered.

Steve whisked you away to the sleek black limousine waiting in the driveway. Its glossy, jet-black exterior reflected the fading sunlight with a mirror-like finish. The long, streamlined body stretched gracefully, its tinted windows offering privacy and adding to its air of mystery. Scott climbed in behind the wheel and Yelena rode shotgun as Steve got you into the back seat, helping you keep your gown away from the doors. Once you were settled, you studied your husband. Something was missing.

"Did you bring a mask?" you asked him. 

Steve smiled, pulling a small black mass from inside his tuxedo coat. No sequins, just a matte black mask he could wear. But he wasn't interested in the mask as he fidgeted with it. He was too busy staring at you.

"Are you excited?" he asked.

You couldn't help the smile the question brought on. "Yes."

Steve looked pleased. "As time goes on and things settle down, we'll get out more. Do more things like this. You look like a princess tonight."

Tears pricked at the backs of your eyes at his heartfelt words. He meant them. He was taking you out to a society function, dressed you up like you were going to the fucking Oscars. A night out like nothing you'd ever experienced before. You'd been excited since he told you he got the tickets a few weeks ago.

"There are going to be a lot of people there, sweetheart," Steve explained quietly. "I'm sure Belova went over everything with you. But I need you to listen. You are going to be with me at all times. If you're not with me, you'll be with Belova and Lang. No wandering off to talk to people or sightsee. Okay?"

You nodded. Yelena had covered the plans thoroughly while she helped you get ready for the evening. 

"If I have to talk business for a moment, Belova will be with you. You have to go to the ladies' room, Belova will be with you," he continued. "Take it easy on the drinks. You're not used to alcohol and I need you vigilant tonight. We're going to have a wonderful time but..."

"I understand," you told him. "Besides, I don't want to miss any part of tonight because I'm drinking. It's my first masquerade ball. I'd like to enjoy every minute of it."

The smile Steve flashed you had your heart fluttering in your chest.

"There will be dancing, right?" you asked.

"Of course," he told you. 

"You'll dance with me?" Would Steve dance with you to a beautiful ballad or classic song?

Reaching over, he tipped up your chin with his fingers, his touch careful. "There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you when you smile at me like that. I love you."

"I love you, too." 

His lips were a teasing brush against your own but in seconds it deepened, filled with longing and need. 

The sharp wrap on the dark glass that separated the two of you in the back seat of the limo from Scott and Yelena up front scared you. Then the glass slid down just a couple of inches. 

"Later," Yelena admonished. "I worked too hard on her for this party, boss."

You froze thinking that was going to piss your husband off but he laughed. "Okay, sorry," he called back to her.

It made you happy. Ever since everything happened that day between your family and Barnes', your husband and your best friend got along a lot better. Steve was kinder to her, treated her with the same respect as he would any of the men in his employ. That being the case, Yelena felt comfortable enough to tease him about things like tonight. She worked hard on carefully picking her moments with him to tease. She did even better at being thoughtful when offering criticism or advice. The fact that they were getting along better just made your life easier.

"That's supposed to be privacy glass," he said, still grinning.

"Or she's just that good at her job." Honestly, she was.

"After the ball," Steve said once the privacy glass has slid back up, "I want you out of that dress. Especially if you want to keep it."

The sly warning had you grinning. "I would like to keep it. It's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen."

"Noted," your husband said. "I'll do my best to contain myself until you get the gown to safety."

The heated looks he cut you the entire way into Boston made you wonder if he'd be able to. You couldn't wait to find out.

Once you reached the venue, you saw there was indeed an endless line of limos in the que leading up to the door. It moved surprisingly fast. Within ten minutes, Scott pulled up to the door and Yelena darted out to open the door for you. Before you could reach for her hand, Steve was there, helping you out of the back of the car with ease and ushering you up the carpeted stairs with Yelena behind you. The decorations and festive lighting dazzled you as you moved along on Steve's arm. The way the soft light reflected off the gown you wore made you feel like you were in a fairytale. 

Steve stopped and greeted more than a few gentlemen on the way into the venue. One man you recognized as a senator and the easy way the two men spoke had you curious. Did the senator know who Steve was? Were they old friends? For a moment, the two of them seemed to forget all going on around them. Just as quickly, the senator's gaze fell on you and the handsome older man smiled. 

"Is this your new bride?" the senator asked.

"She is," Steve replied, introducing you with obvious pride. You meant to shake the man's hand. He kissed the back of yours in an old fashioned gesture. You found him completely charming. 

"Have you been to the masquerade before?" the senator asked.

You shook your head. "This is my first one."

The man smiled. "I hope you enjoy tonight. If I get the chance, I'll introduce you to my wife. It's one of her favorite nights of the year."

"I'd like that," you told him. "It was nice to meet you."

Was it your imagination that Steve watched you with such wonder? Once his conversation with the senator ended, he led you further into the venue where the main ballroom was all prepared, looking like a view from a movie set. 

Clusters of elegant tables arranged in a wide horseshoe shape framed the dance floor, each adorned with lavish centerpieces sparkling beneath the soft glow of the majestic chandelier overhead. The chandelier's light cascaded down like a shimmering waterfall, casting a warm, golden hue over the room, making every surface gleam. A full bar stood ready, offering the finest drinks, while an orchestra played a symphony of enchanting melodies, weaving through the air like a spell. The room was a sea of Boston's political powerhouses, movie stars, and the wealthy elite, all dressed in exquisite gowns and tailored suits, their masks concealing only their identities—not their status. As you paused to take it all in, your husband's familiar warmth pressed against your back, grounding you in the moment as the dazzling scene unfolded before your eyes.

"What do you think?" Steve's whisper at your ear made you shiver.

"I love this," you told him with enthusiasm. "Thank you for bringing me tonight."

"You don't have to thank me." Your husband took your hand, looking like a tawny-haired prince in his tuxedo and black mask, and led you to the dance floor. Your surprise must have shown on your face because he laughed as he swept you into his arms at the edge of the dancing crowd and led you in an easy waltz.

Steve was a wonderful dancer much to your surprise. He led you with an easy grace that you delighted in and found easy to keep up with given your own love of dance. You knew you had to be staring at him but he kept you close, enjoying your surprise.

"When did you learn to dance like this?" you had to ask after he twirled you around gracefully. 

"It's not so hard," he said, his attention solely on you. "Not nearly as hard as your type of dancing."

Ballet was discipline but dancing a perfect waltz wasn't easy either. You were impressed. 

"Is this why you got us all dressed up?" you teased. "So you could show off your dancing skills?"

Steve chuckled. "Is there something wrong with wanting to have a magical night with your wife?"

You were delighted. But you knew it wasn't the only reason Steve brought you here. And now that you were involved in the family business, you weren't offended by the other reason the two of you were there.

Not long before he married you, Steve had acquired a prized property on the outskirts of Boston. He'd been so involved with marrying you and taking over the families he'd neglected it for a time. Now his attention was back on it, plans were being made to develop it. Together, you'd decided on an exclusive resort with fine dining, glitzy nightclubs, and a casino for the wealthy. It was a massive investment and to make it work, certain permits would need to be acquired. The senator and a few key businessmen there tonight could make or break the project that would expand your family's wealth. 

It was a very important night for Steve.

He'd be spending some time talking to these gentlemen tonight which is why Yelena and Scott were there, to keep you safe. You really didn't mind. You felt like Cinderella at the ball in the beautiful gown that flowed and captured the light with your movements as you danced with your husband among the wealthy citizens of the city. As the two of you moved through the dance, you caught a glimpse of Yelena, dressed in her dark suit and standing next to Scott, blending into the background. Your best friend's gaze never left you. Scott's never left her. You smiled, enjoying the beauty of the moment, dancing with your husband at your very first masquerade ball.

When the dance came to an end, it took you a moment to realize it. One of the musicians announced the band would take a short break and be back in just a few minutes. Steve's hand at your lower back urged you to turn. The senator making his way towards you with a lovely older lady at his side. 

The senator's wife was polished from head to toe. Her gown was bright pink layers of satin that matched her lipstick. Otherwise her white hair and face gave her a cold countenance, like she was an ice queen dressed for her best guess at spring. Her eyes were dark, small and mean as her gaze swept over you. The senator assured you that you and his wife would have plenty to talk about. As the woman stood there studying you with pursed lips, you decided talking to her probably wasn't the best idea.

Steve's gaze met yours and he nodded as he let the senator lead him away, leaving you with the judgy woman before you.

"This must be a special night for you," she said tartly.

Straightening your spine, you smiled. "Why is that?"

The woman's white brows rose slightly but a smile played about her lips. "You don't belong here."

"Excuse me?" You kept your smile in place.

"My father was a direct descendent from The Mayflower," she informed you. "We're practically royalty here. We built our fortune through hard work and our good name. You, on the other hand, come from poverty and crime. You father crawled out the shadows and robbed good people blind. That's why you have the money to play dress up and act like you belong here. We all know your husband fancies himself some sort of underworld prince. But he doesn't belong here either."

Oh, no, she didn't just put you and your husband down. Lifting your chin, you looked her in the eye.

"Your ancestors came over on a ship over four hundred years ago and nobody cares anymore," you told her. "You can pretend to be royalty, and tell yourself you made your money working hard and protecting your good name. But the sad truth is, your family made your money the same way mine did. In fact, your family probably paid mine to keep from getting your hands dirty or to protect your interests. And my husband is the king of Boston's underworld and so was my father before him. You may be someone in society right now, but your husband is currently anelected official. If you were smart, you'd spending a little more time being respectful."

Gracefully as you could manage, you turned your back to the rude woman and marched off. Yeah, maybe you hurt your husband's chances of getting the permits you needed for the project development once she talked to her husband. But you weren't about to put up with someone like that. 

You looked all around for Yelena. You were dying to tell her about the conversation you'd just had. But you weren't watching where you were going and you collided with someone hard.

And whoever he was, he caught you in his arms, sweeping you out onto the dance floor as another waltz began. He was as tall as your husband and the scent of his expensive cologne was familiar. You realized who held you a beat before he spoke, a low purr by your ear.

"Did you miss me, beautiful?"

Barnes.

Easing back, you glanced up at your uninvited dancing partner, wearing an aura of allure and danger with ease. Barnes' chiseled jawline was partially obscured by the intricately designed black mask he wore, adorned with silver accents catching the light. Those steely-blue eyes were shadowed but still piercing, glinting with a cold intensity as his gaze met yours.

His tuxedo was entirely black and tailored to perfection, hugging his muscular frame effortlessly. His attire seemed to absorb the light, creating a sense that he came from the shadows. Even his shirt was dark onyx, subtle embroidery only revealing itself when he moved. And he felt strong as he held you, solid and healed.

Stop staring at the man and answer.

"I haven't thought about you at all," you told him, trying to sound nonchalant but not quite hitting that note.

As much as you hated to admit it, Barnes was undeniably handsome. From the way his hair was slicked back with precision to the confident smirk curling his lips, the man was... magnetic. But there was a sinister edge beneath the polished surface. There always had been. Barnes' posture was too poised, his movements too calculated. Every inch of him whispered danger, a wolf in the presence of unsuspecting lambs.

Pulling you close to him, Barnes chuckled. "I don't believe that. I think you I live rent free in that beautiful head of yours."

"Maybe," you said, feeling his smile widen. "I do think about how I wished we'd used more poison."

Now he laughed, a deep rich sound. "I don't doubt that."

"What do you want?" You looked anywhere but at him. Still, you were so focused on the predator that held you, you weren't really seeing your surroundings. The music, the lights, everything else seemed to fade into the background.

"What do you think I want?" Barnes asked.

As Barnes swept you around the floor, your mind scrambled for a comeback. "Your hands around my throat," you said, going with honesty. "And me dead?"

Leaning in, he ran his nose gently up the column of your neck, making you shiver. "Oh, I did. I really did. And I could have made that happen."

You were dangerously close to having him think he had the upper hand here. "No, you couldn't."

Again, he chuckled. "You've got it all figured out, don't you?" Releasing you only long enough to spin you in the dance, he pulled you back into him tightly. "You made peace with your husband. You're now involved in the family business. I would call Steve a pussy for even thinking about that if it were any other woman. But you're not just any woman. But you're special."

You missed a step in your alarm. How the hell did Barnes know you were in the all the family business meetings now? And that you and Steve had made peace? The questions triggered your anxiety, reminding you of the days early in your marriage when Neal had been Barnes' rat and you were always looking over your shoulder. Was someone else talking to Barnes?

"A long time ago, your mother seduced my father," Barnes whispered. "She tore my family apart. And when you came along and you weren't the poor disfigured little girl we were told you were, I assumed you were a little whore like your mother. You look almost exactly like her. Has anyone told you that?"

You didn't answer, trying hard to put a little space between the two of you. Where was Steve? It wouldn't be too conspicuous if he broke in on the dance. If Yelena or Scott came to save you, it could create a scene and unwanted attention. 

"I even thought maybe, horrible thought I know," Barnes went on, "that you might be my half-sister. But it didn't take me long to realize that wasn't true either. Besides, that devious little mind in there, hidden behind all that beauty? You didn't get that from your mother. Or my father."

"What's it to you?" you snapped at him, trying to pull off pissed even though you held anger and fear in equal measure. "I'm Steve's wife. He's your boss. You'd do well to remember that."

Barnes was unfazed. "You're Steve's wife. For now. But he can't handle you." Barnes leaned closer, his gaze locking with yours. "You should belong to someone stronger."

Now you really were getting pissed. "I don't need you or any man, including my husband, to tell me who I am and what I should be doing," you said.

"You may be right," he purred. "But it's that attitude, that fire. It got me thinking... I had the wrong idea about you from the beginning. Yeah, all the bitterness from the past clouded my judgment for a while. I wanted you dead and buried next to your loser husband." When you tried to pull free of him, he tightened his grip. His grin widened. "Now I realize you're exactly what I need."

"For what?" You didn't know how much of your glare he got from behind your mask.

"To finally take my rightful place," he said as if it were gospel. "The position occupied by your current husband."

Current husband? Who the fuck did he think he was?

"Our children will be kings and queens," Barnes went on. "That dynasty would rule Boston for decades."

"My children with Steve will rule Boston," you told him angrily. "And when we're done with you, no one will even remember the Barnes family."

"One day," he said with meaning, leaning closer, "you'll be mine."

Despite yourself, you shivered. Barnes caught it.

"You want me too," he whispered. "I'll make you admit it."

As the song neared its end, you were prepared to do whatever you had to do to get away from the bastard, the man who'd done so much damage to your family. As the last strains of the symphony ended, Barnes released you to bow. You did curtsy to him, then you straightened.

"I will never be yours." You meant it with every fibre of your being. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to find my husband."

Barnes' grin didn't fade. "Better find a way to keep him safe."

You spun on your heel, marching off the dance floor. You needed air, and a moment to calm down. You were blinking back tears, you were that angry. You felt someone on your heels as you made you way out of the main event room out ornate glass doors left open. It was chilly out there but you welcomed it, fighting back anger.

"Are you okay?" Yelena asked, her hand at your back as you gripped the railing and hung on. 

"No, I'm not... o-fucking-kay," you said, trying to regain your composure. "He came out of nowhere."

"He did," Yelena said. "He got to you so quickly after you talked to the senator's wife."

"Where's Steve?" you asked.

"Talking very intently to the senator," she replied. "It appears to be going well."

You had to wonder if that would still be true once the senator's wife caught a moment to tell her husband and your little "talk."

But you had bigger problems right now. Barnes.

"Barnes is all healed up," you told her. Looking beyond her, you saw Scott by the entranceway back into the ball. "And he's got big plans."

"He wants you," Yelena said it. "That much was obvious. It gives me some idea of his plans."

You nodded. "Don't say anything to Steve or Scott right now. I just want to find a glass of champagne to take the edge off and get through the rest of the ball."

With any luck, you could maybe enjoy one more magical dance with Steve before the evening ended.

You couldn't, however, complain. You wanted to be in on the family business and this was part of it. Barnes, unfortunately, was also part of it.  And he'd just announced his intentions to you and you realized now it was the pit that had been in your stomach the entire evening. 

Barnes would keep tearing your life apart until he was stopped. Somehow between his drastic plans and the animosity between you and your husband, you'd found your way to a happy marriage. A path to be queen in this world. And you'd be damned if you let Barnes threaten that future.

"You're going to tell Steve, right?" 

"I am." You didn't miss the concern in Yelena's voice. "I'm telling all of you. But not here."

Nodding her agreement, Yelena watched as you straightened, steeled yourself to return to the event. 

"Let's find you a glass of champagne, boss," she said with a wink.

Boss? Now that put the smile back on your face. 

@valsworldofcreativity @21stcenturywitchcraft @coconutqueen21 @bval-1 @caffiend-queen @sadlittlecountess @candy-and-writing @capsicle-shield @chaoticfiretaconerd @chrisevansgirl @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @coldmuffinbanditshoe @daughterofthenight117 @hv-chw3 @iheartsebstan @imanuglywombat @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @justrae9903 @lokislastlove @mariaenchanted @maxwelllee2020 @nekoannie-chan @nerdwholikesword @notyourtypicalrose @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @peaceinourtime82 @rainbowkisses31 @rayofdawnworld @richonne4life @rissysthoughts-blog @saiyanprincessswanie @scarletsoldier21-blog @shygirl-00 @supernaturaldean67 @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @team-iron-wannabe-man @titty-teetee @tonib666 @villanellev @vitamingummies @what-is-your-plan-today @what-is-your-wish @xoxabs88xox @rosalynshields @naturalthrone22 @marvelovernfan @gotnofucks @eralen @kawairinrin @bluemusickid @geminievans1 @daughterofthenight117 @sunmoonandbuckyrecs @jesevans @kandis-mom @salvatoreitmeanssaviour @kmc1989 @curiousandjoyous @marvelouslyme96 @patzammit

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Sympathy for the spammer

Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.

In any scam, any con, any hustle, the big winners are the people who supply the scammers – not the scammers themselves. The kids selling dope on the corner are making less than minimum wage, while the respectable crime-bosses who own the labs clean up. Desperate "retail investors" who buy shitcoins from Superbowl ads get skinned, while the MBA bros who issue the coins make millions (in real dollars, not crypto).

It's ever been thus. The California gold rush was a con, and nearly everyone who went west went broke. Famously, the only reliable way to cash out on the gold rush was to sell "picks and shovels" to the credulous, doomed and desperate. That's how Leland Stanford made his fortune, which he funneled into eugenics programs (and founding a university):

https://www.hachettebookgroup.com/titles/malcolm-harris/palo-alto/9780316592031/

That means that the people who try to con you are almost always getting conned themselves. Think of Multi-Level Marketing (MLM) scams. My forthcoming novel The Bezzle opens with a baroque and improbable fast-food Ponzi in the town of Avalon on the island of Catalina, founded by the chicle monopolist William Wrigley Jr:

http://thebezzle.org

Wrigley found fast food declasse and banned it from the island, a rule that persists to this day. In The Bezzle, the forensic detective Martin Hench uncovers The Fry Guys, an MLM that flash-freezes contraband burgers and fries smuggled on-island from the mainland and sells them to islanders though an "affiliate marketing" scheme that is really about recruiting other affiliate markets to sell under you. As with every MLM, the value of the burgers and fries sold is dwarfed by the gigantic edifice of finance fraud built around it, with "points" being bought and sold for real cash, which is snaffled up and sucked out of the island by a greedy mainlander who is behind the scheme.

A "bezzle" is John Kenneth Galbraith's term for "the magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it." In every scam, there's a period where everyone feels richer – but only the scammers are actually cleaning up. The wealth of the marks is illusory, but the longer the scammer can preserve the illusion, the more real money the marks will pump into the system.

MLMs are particularly ugly, because they target people who are shut out of economic opportunity – women, people of color, working people. These people necessarily rely on social ties for survival, looking after each others' kids, loaning each other money they can't afford, sharing what little they have when others have nothing.

It's this social cohesion that MLMs weaponize. Crypto "entrepreneurs" are encouraged to suck in their friends and family by telling them that they're "building Black wealth." Working women are exhorted to suck in their bffs by appealing to their sisterhood and the chance for "women to lift each other up."

The "sales people" trying to get you to buy crypto or leggings or supplements are engaged in predatory conduct that will make you financially and socially worse off, wrecking their communities' finances and shattering the mutual aid survival networks they rely on. But they're not getting rich on this – they're also being scammed:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=4686468

This really hit home for me in the mid-2000s, when I was still editing Boing Boing. We had a submission form where our readers could submit links for us to look at for inclusion on the blog, and it was overwhelmed by spam. We'd add all kinds of antispam to it, and still, we'd get floods of hundreds or even thousands of spam submissions to it.

One night, I was lying in my bed in London and watching these spams roll in. They were all for small businesses in the rustbelt, handyman services, lawn-care, odd jobs, that kind of thing. They were 10 million miles from the kind of thing we'd ever post about on Boing Boing. They were coming in so thickly that I literally couldn't finish downloading my email – the POP session was dropping before I could get all the mail in the spool. I had to ssh into my mail server and delete them by hand. It was maddening.

Frustrated and furious, I started calling the phone numbers associated with these small businesses, demanding an explanation. I assumed that they'd hired some kind of sleazy marketing service and I wanted to know who it was so I could give them a piece of my mind.

But what I discovered when I got through was much weirder. These people had all been laid off from factories that were shuttering due to globalization. As part of their termination packages, their bosses had offered them "retraining" via "courses" in founding their own businesses.

The "courses" were the precursors to the current era's rise-and-grind hustle-culture scams (again, the only people getting rich from that stuff are the people selling the courses – the "students" finish the course poorer). They promised these laid-off workers, who'd given their lives to their former employers before being discarded, that they just needed to pull themselves up by their own boostraps:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/10/declaration-of-interdependence/#solidarity-forever

After all, we had the internet now! There were so many new opportunities to be your own boss! The course came with a dreadful build-your-own-website service, complete with an overpriced domain sales portal, and a single form for submitting your new business to "thousands of search engines."

This was nearly 20 years ago, but even then, there was really only one search engine that mattered: Google. The "thousands of search engines" the scammers promised to submit these desperate peoples' websites to were just submission forms for directories, indexes, blogs, and mailing lists. The number of directories, indexes, blogs and mailing lists that would publish their submissions was either "zero" or "nearly zero." There was certainly no possibility that anyone at Boing Boing would ever press the wrong key and accidentally write a 500-word blog post about a leaf-raking service in a collapsing deindustrialized exurb in Kentucky or Ohio.

The people who were drowning me in spam weren't the scammers – they were the scammees.

But that's only half the story. Years later, I discovered how our submission form was getting included in this get-rich-quick's mass-submission system. It was a MLM! Coders in the former Soviet Union were getting work via darknet websites that promised them relative pittances for every submission form they reverse-engineered and submitted. The smart coders didn't crack the forms directly – they recruited other, less business-savvy coders to do that for them, and then often as not, ripped them off.

The scam economy runs on this kind of indirection, where scammees are turned into scammers, who flood useful and productive and nice spaces with useless dross that doesn't even make them any money. Take the submission queue at Clarkesworld, the great online science fiction magazine, which famously had to close after it was flooded with thousands of junk submission "written" by LLMs:

https://www.npr.org/2023/02/24/1159286436/ai-chatbot-chatgpt-magazine-clarkesworld-artificial-intelligence

There was a zero percent chance that Neil Clarke would accidentally accept one of these submissions. They were uniformly terrible. The people submitting these "stories" weren't frustrated sf writers who'd discovered a "life hack" that let them turn out more brilliant prose at scale.

They were scammers who'd been scammed into thinking that AIs were the key to a life of passive income, a 4-Hour Work-Week powered by an AI-based self-licking ice-cream cone:

https://pod.link/1651876897/episode/995c8a778ede17d2d7cff393e5203157

This is absolutely classic passive-income brainworms thinking. "I have a bot that can turn out plausible sentences. I will locate places where sentences can be exchanged for money, aim my bot at it, sit back, and count my winnings." It's MBA logic on meth: find a thing people pay for, then, without bothering to understand why they pay for that thing, find a way to generate something like it at scale and bombard them with it.

Con artists start by conning themselves, with the idea that "you can't con an honest man." But the factor that predicts whether someone is connable isn't their honesty – it's their desperation. The kid selling drugs on the corner, the mom desperately DMing her high-school friends to sell them leggings, the cousin who insists that you get in on their shitcoin – they're all doing it because the system is rigged against them, and getting worse every day.

These people reason – correctly – that all the people getting really rich are scamming. If Amazon can make $38b/year selling "ads" that push worse products that cost more to the top of their search results, why should the mere fact that an "opportunity" is obviously predatory and fraudulent disqualify it?

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/29/aethelred-the-unready/#not-one-penny-for-tribute

The quest for passive income is really the quest for a "greater fool," the economist's term for the person who relieves you of the useless crap you just overpaid for. It rots the mind, atomizes communities, shatters solidarity and breeds cynicism:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/24/passive-income/#swiss-cheese-security

The rise and rise of botshit cannot be separated from this phenomenon. The botshit in our search-results, our social media feeds, and our in-boxes isn't making money for the enshittifiers who send it – rather, they are being hustled by someone who's selling them the "picks and shovels" for the AI gold rush:

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2024/jan/03/botshit-generative-ai-imminent-threat-democracy

That's the true cost of all the automation-driven unemployment criti-hype: while we're nowhere near a place where bots can steal your job, we're certainly at the point where your boss can be suckered into firing you and replacing you with a bot that fails at doing your job:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/11/robots-stole-my-jerb/#computer-says-no

The manic "entrepreneurs" who've been stampeded into panic by the (correct) perception that the economy is a game of musical chairs where the number of chairs is decreasing at breakneck speed are easy marks for the Leland Stanfords of AI, who are creating generational wealth for themselves by promising that their bots will automate away all the tedious work that goes into creating value. Expect a lot more Amazon Marketplace products called "I'm sorry, I cannot fulfil this request as it goes against OpenAI use policy":

https://www.theverge.com/2024/1/12/24036156/openai-policy-amazon-ai-listings

No one's going to buy these products, but the AI picks-and-shovels people will still reap a fortune from the attempt. And because history repeats itself, these newly minted billionaires are continuing Leland Stanford's love affair with eugenics:

https://www.truthdig.com/dig-series/eugenics/

The fact that AI spam doesn't pay is important to the fortunes of AI companies. Most high-value AI applications are very risk-intolerant (self-driving cars, radiology analysis, etc). An AI tool might help a human perform these tasks more accurately – by warning them of things that they've missed – but that's not how AI will turn a profit. There's no market for AI that makes your workers cost more but makes them better at their jobs:

https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/

Plenty of people think that spam might be the elusive high-value, low-risk AI application. But that's just not true. The point of AI spam is to get clicks from people who are looking for better content. It's SEO. No one reads 2000 words of algorithm-pleasing LLM garbage over an omelette recipe and then subscribes to that site's feed.

And the omelette recipe generates pennies for the spammer that posted it. They are doing massive volume in order to make those pennies into dollars. You don't make money by posting one spam. If every spammer had to pay the actual recovery costs (energy, chillers, capital amortization, wages) for their query, every AI spam would lose (lots of) money.

Hustle culture and passive income are about turning other peoples' dollars into your dimes. It is a negative-sum activity, a net drain on society. Behind every seemingly successful "passive income" is a con artist who's getting rich by promising – but not delivering – that elusive passive income, and then blaming the victims for not hustling hard enough:

https://www.ftc.gov/business-guidance/blog/2023/12/blueprint-trouble

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week

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