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George Carlin Explains Why Real Estate Is the Biggest Scam 😂🏠
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You ever notice how they keep telling
you owning a home is the American dream?
That's what they tell you, the dream.
You buy a house, you finally own or
something, you plant a little flag on
the dirt, put a white picket fence
around it, and boom, you're a success.
But here's the punchline. You don't own
a goddamn thing. You think you do, but
try missing a couple of payments and see
how fast the people who really own it
show up with papers and badges to remind
you it was never yours to begin with.
That's the game. They let you think
you're a big shot landowner when you're
really just paying rent to the bank, the
government, and every other parasite who
attach themselves to your little piece
of the dream. You ever stop and think
about that? You work 40 years, save
every nickel, sacrifice vacations, buy
used cars, and finally scrape enough
together for a down payment on this
magical a dream property. And you sign a
stack of papers so thick it could choke
an elephant. Half of which you'll never
read. The other half you couldn't
understand if you tried. And when the
ink dries, you're smiling like you just
got kned by the queen cuz someone told
you. Congratulations. You're a homeowner.
homeowner.
You're not a homeowner. You're
a tenant with a long-term payment plan.
You don't own the house. The house owns
you and the land. Forget it. You think
you own that patch of dirt your house is
sitting on. Try skipping property taxes
for a year. Just one year. Suddenly, men
with guns and clipboards will be
explaining to you how your family
investment is being auctioned off to the
highest bidder on Tuesday. That's right.
The government is basically your
landlord in a suit. Every year, you got
to pay them protection money to keep
living in the place you already have
bought. And if you don't pay, well,
they're very efficient at reminding you
whose dirt it really is. Ownership.
You're renting from the king, folks.
They just don't call him a king anymore.
They upgraded the title to a county tax
assessor. Makes it sound democratic. And
then there's the bank. Oh, the bank. The
friendly little institution that helps
you achieve your dream. What a joke.
They hand you money they don't even
have. charge you interest for the
privilege and call it a loan. You're
basically shackled to them for three
decades. 30 years. That's a life
sentence in financial prison. If you're
lucky, by the time you're done paying it
off, you're old, wrinkled, and too
arthritic to climb the stairs in your
own house. Then you die. And guess what?
They sell the house again to the next
sucker. It's like a carnival game where
nobody ever wins except the guy who owns
the booth. Let's talk about the illusion
of control. You think it's your castle,
right? Your fortress, your rules. Wrong.
You can't even put up a fence without
asking permission from the zoning board.
Can't paint your door purple if some
homeowners association gets twitchy
about our community standards.
Some people even have to get approval to
plant a tree.
Imagine that you need permission to
stick something in the ground on your
own land. That's not ownership. That's
babysitting for the state. And the way
they sell it to you is genius. They tell
you, "I buy a home. It's an investment." Investment.
Investment.
The only investment where you pay and
pay and pay. And then when it's time to
sell, half the money goes to real estate
agents, appraisers, lawyers, and anybody
else who figured out how to stick their
hand in your closing costs.
By the time you're done, you're lucky if
you walk away with enough for a sandwich
in a used lawn mower. But hey, you're an
owner. That's the lie they feed you. So
you keep smiling while they pick your
pockets. And don't even get me started
on insurance.
Oh, you thought you were safe because
you owned it? Not so fast. You got to
pay insurance companies every year just
in case your dream catches fire, floats
away in a flood, or some drunk neighbor
backs his truck through your living room
wall. And if disaster actually strikes,
what happens? They send some guy with a
clipboard to tell you, "Well,
technically we don't cover that kind of disaster.
disaster.
Sorry, you're screwed. Thanks for the
premiums, though. Enjoy your ashes. It's
all a big scam wrapped in a bow.
Cultural hypnosis. They drill it into
your head from birth to buy a home. Own
your land. That's success. But all it
really means is you're on the hook to
keep feeding the machine. Banks,
governments, associations, insurance
companies, utility companies, everybody
gets their cut before you even finish breakfast.
breakfast.
And you're standing there in the kitchen
thinking, "This is mine. I own this."
Sure you do. Just don't forget to pay
every single one of those people on time
every year forever. Or they'll remind
you real quick who actually runs the
show. And here's the kicker. You're not
even allowed to just live on land
without playing their game. Try it. Try
pitching a tent on our land and saying,
"I live here now. No house, no mortgage,
no bills." Let's still call it illegal
camping and toss you out. So apparently
you can buy land, but you can't just use
it the way you want. You got to build
something on it, pay for permits, follow
codes, keep it up to standards. That's
not ownership.
That's not ownership. That's leasing
with extra paperwork. And all the while,
people keep paring this nonsense like
it's gospel. Or I own a home. No, you
own a glorified receipt, and even that's
conditional. The government owns the
land. The bank owns the house until
you're nearly dead. And the insurance
company owns your peace of mind. What's
left for you? A pile of debt, a stack of
bills, and a lawn you got to mow every
goddamn week. Congratulations. You're
living the dream. So next time someone
brags about owning their home, just
remember what they really own is a
30-year agreement to keep feeding the
system. The dream they sold you. It's
not freedom. It's a mortgage-shaped
leash around your neck. And you're
supposed to smile while they drag you
around the yard. Because the truth is,
you don't own the land. You don't own
the house. And you sure as hell don't
own the dream. The dream owns you. You
ever notice how they keep telling you
that real estate is valuable, like it's
some sacred treasure? They make it sound
like every square inch of dirt in the
country is a piece of gold dipped in
chocolate, wrapped in diamonds, guarded
by angels.
This land is worth so much
dirt. It's the same dirt it was last
year. The same dirt it was 50 years ago.
The same dirt it'll be a thousand years
from now. Dirt doesn't appreciate. Dirt
doesn't suddenly get smarter. Dirt
doesn't start a side hustle. Dirt
doesn't join a gym and come back with
six-pack abs. Dirt just sits there. No,
it just sits there. But every year, some
guy in a suit waves a clipboard and
says, "This dirt is now worth double."
And everybody nods like he just
discovered fire. And that's the scam,
isn't it? They convince you that dirt
has a personality. One year it's a
regular dirt, the next year it's a prime
dirt. Like it got a promotion. You're
paying extra for the privilege of
standing on the exact same patch of
earth. But now it comes with an
attitude. Oh, you didn't know? This is
luxury dirt. It's near Starbucks. That
means it's special. Starbucks shows up.
Suddenly, the dirt went to Harvard. Your
mortgage just got a PhD in And
the language they use is genius. They
don't say a dirt went up. They say the
market appreciates. Appreciate it. Who's
appreciating? I don't see the dirt
sending thank you notes. The dear buyer,
thank you for recognizing my new found
value. Sign the backyard. Appreciate
means somebody made up a number and
everyone agreed to pretend it's real.
It's like a group hallucination.
Everybody takes the same drug, stares at
the same dirt, and goes, "Yeah, that
looks more expensive. That's not
economics. That's improv theater." And
you'll notice the dirt never improves.
The dirt doesn't get safer. The dirt
doesn't get more fertile. If anything,
half the time the neighborhood gets
worse. Crime goes up, schools go down,
traffic's a nightmare. But the price
still goes up. You're paying more money
for a crappier life. Imagine going to a
restaurant and every time you go back
the food gets worse, the service slower,
the table's dirtier, but the bill
doubles and people brag about it. No.
Yeah. Last year this burger was $10. Now
it's $30. Great investment. No, you're
just an idiot with ketchup on your face.
And the way they spin it, they make you
feel like you're the crazy one if you
question it. No, you don't understand.
Property values are rising. Rising.
Rising based on what? Did they sprinkle
magic beans in the soil? Did God
personally bless the foundation? No.
They built a Whole Foods down the street
and suddenly your rent's three times
higher. It's not real value. It's
imaginary. It's monopoly money. But as
long as the suits keep printing reports
and the TV keep saying the market's hot,
everyone goes along with it. You want to
know how fake it is? Look at bubble
markets. One year the same house is a
worth a half a million. The next year
it's a worth of 300,000.
Did the bricks evaporate? Did the
plumbing dissolve? No, it's the same
damn house. But the magic number fairy
came by and said, "Oops, not worth as
much anymore." So the number changes,
your taxes change, your payments don't
change, and you're sitting there
wondering why you just got poorer
without doing anything. That's not a
market. That's a rigged carnival game.
You throw the ring. It bounces off the
bottle. The guy shrugs and says, "Sorry,
not this year." Oh, I see. And they sell
you the illusion that you're lucky to
even get in on it. By now, prices are
only going up. It's always going up.
It's been going up since they invented
the phrase. They said the same thing in
the 70s and the 80s and the '9s. Every
decade, same line. Well, buy now before
it's too late. Too late for what? Too
late to get ripped off. Too late to sign
your life away for triple what it's
worth. The urgency is part of the trick.
If they told you the truth, that value
is arbitrary. Numbers are made up. And
half the people cashing in are just
flipping illusions. You'd never touch
it. But they pump you with fear. Hurry,
hurry, hurry. Only a few left. Like
they're selling hot dogs at a ball game.
Oh, get your overpriced mortgage right
here. Only a few dream homes left. And
think about this. If property really had
intrinsic value, why would neighborhoods
rise and fall depending on what stores
move in? A Walmart shows up, values
plummet. A Trader Joe's shows up, values skyrocket.
skyrocket.
So, what's valuable? The land of the
kale chips. Apparently, kale is worth a
h 100red grand on your mortgage. Forget
the American dream. This is the American
produce aisle. You're not investing in a
home. You're investing in grocery
stores. But the banks love it. Oh, they
love it. The higher the imaginary value,
the more they can lend you, the more
interest they can collect, the more debt
they can sell. It's a pyramid made of
spreadsheets. They take your house, put
a madeup price on it, chop the loan into
pieces, sell it to investors, and
everyone takes a cut. And everyone takes
a cut. Meanwhile, you're the only one
who has to actually live there and mow
the lawn. The people making money never
touch the dirt. They're too busy buying
yachts with the profits from your
inflated mortgage. And let's not forget
the appraisers. These guys are
professional dirt whisperers.
They come in, walk around your house,
look serious, maybe poke a wall, and
then pull a number out of thin air. This
house is worth $500,000.
How do you know? We compared it to three
other houses nearby. Oh, so it's copycat
economics. Monkey see monkey say it's
worth more. That's your scientific
method? You're just gossiping with
numbers. Oh, the house down the street
went for half a million, so yours is
too. That's not appraisal. That's
neighborhood peer pressure. And people
lap it up. They brag. My house went up
in value. No, it didn't. It's the same
damn house. You didn't paint it. You
didn't fix it. You didn't add a room.
You just sat on it while men in suits
played with charts. And now you think
you're a genius. You didn't earn that
money. You just got lucky enough to be
standing on the right dirt when the
Monopoly board tilted.
And don't worry, when it tilts the other
way, you'll still be paying the same
mortgage. You'll be bragging one year
and crying the next. But hey, it's all
part of your market. And that's the
beauty of the scam. They've convinced
everybody to worship the numbers. Nobody
questions them. A man in a tie says,
"This is valuable." And people bow down
like he's Moses coming down from the
mountain. No tablets, just a Zillow
estimate. And people rearranged their
lives around it. Move here, don't move
there. Pay more, pay less. All because
somebody invented a number. Nobody
remembers that dirt is dirt. Nobody
remembers that land is just land. They
turned the ground under your feet into a
stock ticker. And you're the sucker
trading your life for imaginary profit.
Because the truth is, the house doesn't
make you rich. The market doesn't make
you rich.
The only people who get rich are the
ones convincing you that imaginary dirt
is worth real money. So when they tell
you prices are up, what they really mean
is the scam is working. Huh? You ever
notice the whole housing game is
basically a pyramid scheme with
shingles? That's all it is. A bunch of
people stacked on top of each other.
Everyone paying the guy above them while
the guy at the very top sits on his ass
collecting checks for doing absolutely nothing.
nothing.
Renters at the bottom, homeowners
clawing their way through mortgages in
the middle, and landlords sitting pretty
on top like they invented breathing.
It's the oldest scam in the book.
Shelter. Everyone needs it. You can't
just opt out of shelter. You can opt out
of cable. You can opt out of Starbucks.
But try opting out of shelter. Go ahead,
sleep outside in January. See how that
works out. They've got you by the throat
and they know it.
That's why they can charge whatever they
want. You pay or freeze to death. That's
not business. That's extortion with
better marketing. And at the bottom, you
got renters. Poor bastards. Renting is
like lighting your money on fire every
month and then thanking the guy who
handed you the match. You work, you pay,
you sweat, and at the end of the year,
what do you own? Nothing. Not even the
cockroaches. Those belong to the
landlord, too. Renters are just
financing someone else's dream. while
living their own nightmare. And
landlords love to tell renters, "Well,
you're just throwing your money away."
Oh, really? And what are you doing,
landlord? You're throwing someone else's
money into your pocket. At least the
renter gets a roof and some leaky
plumbing. The landlord gets interest
free cash delivered every month without
lifting a finger. Who's the real genius
here? And then in the middle, you've got
the homeowners.
Oh, they think they're special. We're
not renting. We're building equity.
Equity, that magical word people use to
justify spending 30 years on the world's
longest payment plan. Homeowners are
just renters with longer contracts. You
still pay every month. You still get
kicked out if you stop paying. And you
still don't really own the place until
decades later. The only difference is
when the sink explodes or the roof caves
in, you don't get to call the landlord.
Congratulations, you are the landlord
now. Pay up. Suddenly, the dream home
feels like a money pit with a mailbox.
And then there's the landlords
themselves. The landlords are the best.
These people figured out how to get rich
without working. They don't make
anything. They don't build anything.
They don't invent anything. They just
sit there owning stuff. That's it. Their
job is a having. That's the whole
resume. What do you do for a living? I
own things. I exist while other people
pay me. That's not a job. That's a
position in the food chain. That's being
a tick on society's back. And they love
to act like they're doing you a favor.
I'm providing housing. No, you're not.
The house was already there. The builder
provided housing. The landlord just
showed up afterward like a raccoon
digging through garbage. Oh, look. I'll
take this one and that one. One, and now
you all owe me money forever. And you
ever notice landlords always have the
same excuses? Oh, being a landlord is so
hard. The tenants are always calling me.
Things break. It's such a burden.
You fix a toilet twice a year and cash
checks the other 363 days. Don't act
like you're a coal miner. Don't act like
you're storming Normandy. You're a guy
who owns a key. That's it. You bought a
box. You hand out keys to other people.
And then they pay you for the privilege
of existing inside your box. That's the
whole business plan. the pyramid scheme
of boxes and the pyramid keeps itself
alive because everyone's trying to climb
it. Renters want to become homeowners.
Homeowners dream of becoming landlords
and landlords want to become developers.
Everybody's stepping on the head of the
guy below them, hoping to get high
enough that someone else has to pay
them. It's not about shelter anymore.
It's about leverage.
Shelter is just the excuse. The real
game is how many people can you trick
into paying you while you sit back
eating nachos in your second house. And
renters are stuck forever. They tell you
renting is temporary. But for a lot of
people, it's permanent because the rents
keep going up. Always up, never down.
You ever hear of rent going down? Never.
Even if the building is falling apart,
even if the neighborhood looks like a
war zone, the rent goes up. Why? Because
they can't. That's it. No reason just
because. Try telling your landlord,
"Well, my salary didn't go up, so I'm
paying less this month." See how fast
you're out on the street. Rent is the
only product in the world where the
worse it gets, the more it costs. Your
roof leaks, the pipes rattle, the
neighbors running a meth lab, but
congratulations, your rent just went up
$200. Enjoy your new amenities. And
homeowners in the middle,
they're no better off. They brag about
owning or something, but really they're
paying rent to the bank and taxes to the
government. They're like renters with
more paperwork. And if they miss a
payment, the bank swoops in, takes the
house, and sells it to the next sucker.
Net sucker. Homeowners are just
temporary tenants who mow their own
lawns. And they tell themselves they're
different from renters. You are
investing. No, you're not. You're just
renting from the bank with a fancier
title. And the landlord's at the top.
They're the casino owners. They don't
gamble. They don't play. They just sit
back while everyone else feeds quarters
into the machine. They own buildings
they'll never live in. Neighborhoods
they don't visit, cities they don't care
about. All they care about is the cash.
They've got armies of renters below them
all paying tribute every month like
peasants tossing coins to the king. And
if the peasants complain, the king
shrugs or pay up or move out. That's the
whole philosophy.
And the system rewards it. The more you
own, the more you can own. Banks line up
to hand landlords money because they
know renters will keep paying. The
government gives them tax breaks. Tax
breaks. You're already rich. You're
already charging people to exist. And
now the government says, "Here's some
free candy." Meanwhile, the renter can't
even deduct their rent. They just pay
and pay and pay with nothing to show for
it while the landlord gets richer for
simply being there. And then they have
the nerve to say, "Well, I took the
risk." Risk? What risk? The tenant takes
the risk. They risk eviction. They risk
homelessness. They risk having their
life turned upside down if they miss a
payment. You
You risk getting a smaller check. Oh,
poor baby. Let me play you a sad song on
the world's smallest violin while you
swim in a pool of rent money. And let's
not forget the developers. The landlords
evolve into developers like Pokémon.
Suddenly, they're not just owning
houses. They're building entire blocks.
Luxury towers, overpriced condos. And
they always build the same thing. Boxes
stacked on boxes wrapped in glass with a
yoga studio in the lobby. They call it a
luxury living. Luxury. You're paying
$3,000 a month to live in a shoe box
with stainless steel appliances.
Stainless steel doesn't make your life
better. It just makes your credit card
bill bigger. But people fall for it. Oh,
look honey. It has granite countertops.
Yeah, great. Now you can't afford
groceries to put on those countertops.
And it's all a game of musical chairs.
There are never enough seats. And the
music never stops. Renters chase
apartments. Homeowners chase mortgages.
Landlords chase renters. Developers
chase investors. Everyone's running in
circles. And the only constant is the
money always flows upward. From the
bottom to the top. From the renters's
paycheck to the landlord's pocket, from
the homeowner's mortgage to the bank's
balance sheet, and at the top, they sit
there sipping wine, laughing at how easy
it is to make people pay for the
privilege of existing indoors. Because
when you strip it down, that's what real
estate is. Paying for the right to be
inside. That's it. You're not paying for
land or bricks or plumbing. You're
paying for permission to exist inside a
box instead of outside in the rain. And
somebody somewhere is always making a
profit off your need to not die of
exposure. So in the end, real estate
isn't the American dream. It's the
American pyramid scheme. And the only
winners are the ones collecting rent
while everybody else digs deeper into
their pockets just to stay dry. Because
the truth is the only thing you really
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