A Chuck Smith Real Estate Investor Critique
Hey, what’s goin’ down?
Paul here, Real Estate Spy.
I do the sleuthing; you do the deducing.
That’s why you paddled into my info pond, yes? To get the 411 on Chuck Smith? Well, your canoe aimed true. I’ve got a review for you, and we’ll get to it in two secs.
First I’m gonna get some 411 on you, if that’s ok. Stick with me…I’ve gotta purpose here.
What brings you to these waters, really? Got a 9-5 that’s lost its jive? An itch to get rich that ya just can’t ditch? A guy in a tie that’s sucking you dry?
You’re eyeballing real estate investing and you’re like, baby, if they can do it, I can too. Just need a dish of the skinny and I can rock this!
I get it. I mean, I used to get it. If that’s you, then you were me.
I got the low-down on the real estate gig and I rocked it for a few spins around the dial. Got a nice stash o’ land; held some, flipped some, took some to the bank to turn in for jewels and gold, and strutted out like a king.
And then Mama Misfortune, a.k.a. the ekonomy krash, brought down her heavy hand on my backside and whupped the tar out of me.
(To Chuck in one sec.)
All of my awesome props took themselves away, with the able assistance of the bank suit, found an ocean, toppled in, and glug-glugged their way to the bottom. Leaving me gaping at the swirling eddy that they left behind.
And then sinking in after them, faster than you say, hell, no. Oh, hell, no.
Took me a looooooooooooooong time to dog-paddle my way back to the white-sand strand.
Crawled out like a wet dog, gasping for O2, and then lay there all undignified-like while I sifted through sand to collect the fragments of my life.
Mid-sift, a guy named James looked down, tapped me on the shoulder and said, hey bro, there’s another way. Check out this ride: digital properties.