Betting on death

Seriously.  And rooting for it.

I'm involved in a case where investors send their money to this company, and the company buys life insurance policies.  The idea is that the policies are all paid up and will pay off when the insured dies.  Well, some of these insureds sell that policy at a discount ($1m policy at death, I'll sell it today for $500,000, or whatever).  So you invest in the discounted policy and wait for that person to die.  Which is macabre enough.

But, a fun feature of the investment was that the company would send you a list of insureds and a write up of their medical history and status, and an estimated life expectancy, and you pick the horse to bet on.  Only in this case, you want the horse to lose, quickly.  The longer they live, the less you make when they die (because part of your investment goes to paying the ongoing premiums).

In my case at hand, this turned out to be a scam.  The insurance agents were getting a 12% commission right off the top, for one thing, and selling it as an insurance product when it's really a security.  Plus, the company to whom the money was sent was skimming off huge chunks of it. 

But still, this goes on, and if done right is apparently legal, at least in some states.  Wierd.

The curtilage

My new wife has been a busy woman, digging and tilling and planting, and buying, plants.  Flowers and bushes and trees, oh my.  And emplacing stones, and digging those up and moving them and replacing them with other stones.  And digging up newly planted flowers and bushes and rearranging, and moving pots with flowers from the front to the back and to the front again. 

There's a little bit of trial and error, but things are coming together nicely. Before I had what I termed a green desert.  Just grass, and some plantings left over from a previous homeowner.  I wasn't much interested in the yard because it was just a source of work and expense, mostly in an effort to ensure my dog had a smooth green toilet.  Just don't use the yard for much at all.

But now, now, I can just look at it and experience some pleasure and satisfaction.  Much improved curtilage.  I wonder what she'll channel all that energy into once this project is complete.

A Hiss and a Byword

It's kinda weird when you know someone on death row. A murderer. A butcher.

Well, i don't really know him, nor do i want to, but we did grow up in the same town at the same time, we knew the same people, we ate at the same burger joints, we even spoke. We graduated from the same high school (assuming he graduated), attended the same church, I knew his family. I guess all that familiarity makes it seem like I knew him.

But no, I do not know him.

And in five days time, he will be put to death for his crimes. In his wake, he leaves bitter, heartbroken individuals and families. But, when Richard Leavitt takes his last breath, he'll become like every other person who has died. He'll just be dead. His name will be only a hiss and a byword from that moment on.

And hopefully, he'll be forgotten.

Update: June 11, 2012: done dead dog deal... the deed was duly dealt that day.