Wolf. Sheep’s Clothing. 0

I just got a come-on in the mail from some outfit trying to bamboozle me into getting a mortgage I don’t need at a rate I’m not interested in for reasons that have nothing to do with me.

It was breath-taking in its nerve and detachment from reality.

They tell me my mortgage rate is getting ready to reset.

No, it’s not. It’s a 30-year straight.

They told me it’s owned by one bank, when in fact it’s owned (or at least administered by) a whole nother bank in a whole nother place.

They told me that I may lose the equity I have because of household price drops.

No, I won’t. I may not be able to flog the house for as much as I could have two years ago but I’ve been here a long time. Equity is a phony-baloney number until the cashier’s check is on the barrel head.

They are clever, though. They’ve sprung for a toll-free number at an exchange that can be translated to “FHA,” as in “1-888-FHA-xxxx.” I would not be surprised if some folks think they are connected to the guvmint.

Heck, they have a big seal with an eagle on it and the motto, “Authorized Financial Institution for F. H. A. Loans.” Big deal.

They are, of course, connected to the guvmint. They have to get a license and a charter.

It’s like those sweepstakes letters that arrive with “Hand-Delivered by United States Personnel” boldly printed on the fronts. Yes, your mail carrier, if you live in the United States, is a “United States Personnel.”

Big whoop.

Hell, my father was a “Commonwealth of Virginia Personnel” for a number of years. He worked for the Department of Agriculture.

I used to get a cup of coffee in the employee lounge at the Wilmington train station while waiting for my train to Philly. That made me, according to the sign, an “Authorized Personnel.”

I’d always wanted to be an authorized personnel.