I'm sorry, but listening to this guy wax poetic about "his music" and "his home" and "his life" as he waltzes around what looks to be a million-dollar loft apartment in downtown Manhattan is just a little too much for me. I've seriously never cared less about anyone in my entire life,* but I guess that works out ok, because when this guy gets done there's really no room for anyone else to care about him, anyway.
Loan Depot is best known for selling adjustable-rate mortgages (they make up the majority of the $1.8 billion in business they did in the housing market last year.) They are also noteworthy for giving their CEO a $42 million dollar bonus a few years back. Their customer base tends to be people with less than stellar credit ratings who are willing to sign on the dotted line to pay very high-interest mortgage payments forever rather than live within their means in apartments which may NOT have 360 degree views of the Manhattan skyline.
Back to this idiot- man, I wish I could adequately describe how very little I give a flying damn about your freaking music and your plants and wish you'd just grow up and accept the reality of being an adult and maintaining a sustainable budget instead of placing yourself in a situation where you'll be demanding debt relief inside of a year or two. Hate to tell you this, but our government only bails out banks, not people. When you and your plants and your albums get tossed on to the sidewalk, Loan Depot will flip that apartment, maybe even handing it off to someone who can afford it. You can move your crap back in to mommy's basement; hope there's room for you to frolic in front of the washer-dryer if you can work up the enthusiasm. No, I don't.
*this sentiment may change the next time The New York Times publishes an article about a young performance artist struggling to find a condo for under $1.5 million in the Right Neighborhood. I will probably care about that person's "problem" even less.
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