appraisal porn

I had an early appointment today with Dallas Central Appraisal. They're the ones who estimate the value of your home, and then someone else sends you a tax bill based on that appraisal. So, it's to the homeowner's advantage to get the appraisal as low as possible. Texas law limits them to a 30% increase every 3 years, so I've been told. True to form, they routinely raise my appraisal 10% every year.

Cut to the chase: I got the same treatment as the last time I challenged the appraisal. Namely: There's the door. Don't let it hit you on the a$$ as you leave.

Anyhoo, one thing struck me funny during today's hearing. Soon after I made my case, the chairman of the tribunal leaned forward:

"Got any pictures?," he salivated.

I could tell this is what he lived for. He wanted photos of exposed plumbing dating back to the 1890s. Buckling foundations. Anything. He wanted closeups of lurid, gaping holes in cracked sheetrock. Peeling paint. The more of an eyesore, the better. And Repair Estimates, the more detailed the better. I could sense what he wanted: Appraisal Porn.

If I'd whipped out a photo of a hole in my roof, he might have climaxed on the spot.

When I told him I had no such photos, he sighed with an incredible sadness. I had single-handedly snuffed out his only source of joy in life.

Suddenly, I felt a sense of overwhelming grief. I stammered a promise to Return Next Year, with 8x10 color glossies, scenes reminiscent of Alice's Restaurant. That promise cheered him up; the sparkle returned to his eyes. I Just Knew that I had done my Good Deed for the day, and nearly skipped out of the building, happier than I've been in months.