>For those of you who don’t know, the scenery along two-lane roads in Coastal Carolina looks something like this: sparse trees, a recently-bulldozed lot where trees used to be, a pathetic patch of a few scraggly trees, housing development, a currently-being-bulldozed lot where trees used to be with a big sign in front advertising a housing development, a pathetic patch of a few scraggly trees, a wetland area that developers are still working on getting filled in, housing development … and so forth. See, the goal around here is to make as much money as possible and think about the natural beauty last – if at all – since the ocean is never more than 15 air-conditioned minutes away in an SUV. I take back what I said about thinking about the natural beauty last. No one actually gives a shit at all.
This brings me to something else. You now what real estate agents are? Morons who have found a way to make a comfortable living. The majority of real estate agents I know sucked in high school, failed out of college, struggled until they eventually gave up in community college, then realized at the age of 23 or so that they’d better get their shit together and do something with their otherwise worthless lives, studied for a few weeks and took some real estate sales test. Next thing they know, all they have to do is smile, sell themselves and some homes, and boom … they’re living the high life. It’s much like many small-town cops in America. They got all C’s in high school but have somehow found a way to make ends meet.
One would think by comparing real estate agents to cops and saying both were morons in high school and later in life that I don’t like either. That’s not true. For the most part, cops play a vital role in society by keeping us all safe to the best of their ability. They risk their lives selflessly for people they don’t even know. They deserve much more credit than I’ve given them in the past. Real estate agents, however, do whatever they do for themselves and no one else. They encourage people to buy houses and lots and are a big part of the never-ending process of getting land cleared, creeks filled, and the natural beauty of the Earth destroyed, all for the sake of seeing extra digits in their bank accounts. Since they’re constantly “on the clock,” one can never tell if they’re talking to the person or the real estate agent; their voices and inflection frequently mimic that of an automated voice mail system. They are, after all, salesmen … not that any of that matters, though, since the majority of what they have to say is retarded anyway.
Real estate agents are what make housing developments successful and disregard for the natural beauty of places like River Road so prevalent. They say, “it’s a brand new home with a two-car garage” and so forth when all they really have to tell potential buyers is to check out the other 27 houses on the street because they all look exactly the same. They call them “homes” as if there’s something unique about them, but they’re really the opposite of individuality and creativity. I would like to live in a house that’s a little different than everyone else’s, or at least my next door neighbor, but this is one of the many ideals I’ve found which separates me from Southeastern North Carolinians. I think they’re weird because they don’t care or even think about the right things; they think I’m weird because I don’t have long hair and praise Jesus. But I’m getting a bit off-topic here with all of that. Real estate agents make millions because individuals moving into these developments are too lazy, half-assed, and anxious to be a part of “Pelican Meadow” to even give a shit about whether their house is really a home. Knowing how stupid most of the people are around here makes me question whether or not they’ve even noticed that their “little piece of paradise” looks exactly like the next jackass’. Again, since people of low intelligence who have managed to secure huge mortgages are so rampant, the real estate agents – their fellow morons – profit big-time. When they see places like River Road and a couple acres of pines along Kerr Avenue, they don’t think it’s really cool how the city of Wilmington’s managed to somewhat balance nature and progress, they see potential – that which only benefits their pocket books. Next thing you know, they’re calling someone to find out who owns these lots so they can get them to sell to a developer. Three years later, if all goes according to plan, those trees are gone and tidy rows of identical houses stand in their place.
Ahh – the birth of a housing development. Isn’t it lovely and fucking sad at the same time? It’s all right though, since as a lasting tribute to what was originally there they always come up with some corny name for the maze of cracker boxes, something like “Whispering Meadows” or “Sleepy Pines,” and always put it on an elaborate and gaudy sign out front. At night they light spot lights on it so all the passing motorists can see what a great life the residents of Fort Asswipe must have. Fuck that shit – I’ve come up with my own name for their developments.
Yeah, I’m running out of decent names here and just getting pissed the more I think about these places. These aren’t even that funny. I just want to know what they will do in another hundred years after everything is made of pavement and knocking down old buildings built in 2007 is actually considered development because they’re all that’s left since trees and wetlands are ancient history? Oh, that’s right … they won’t care, just like they didn’t when it was happening before, in 2007.