Okay, I just gave both halves of the joke. I'd rather not. I'd prefer it if just the second line were enough. 

I do know someone who has a reverse mortgage on his property, 100 acres in Quilcene. Years ago, when he was building houses, he and his wife doing all the tasks they could (good carpentry, really bad drywall finishing), then selling the homes on contract, and they decided to hire someone reasonable (read cheap) to do the painting, using mixed-together mis-tinted paint (way cheaper); he took a chance on me.  Thanks.

He seemed kind of old to me then; and I asked what plans he had for retirement. "If I'm lucky," he said, "I'll just die on the job."  He didn't, but he did get the reverse mortgage. Oh, and he invested some money in what everyone, including me, because of the unbelievably high interest rate returns, was a Ponzi scheme.

It was. He lost money. Lots of money. I'm not sure if he's counting the actual money he invested or what he thought (and was told) his investment plus accrued interest would add up to. Either way, it was at least a hundred thousand hard earned dollars.

Sucky? Yeah. So, reverse mortgage. I have said that doing such a thing is like telling your children there's nothing for them to inherit. That's probably a bit simplistic. Or just wrong. One of their children seems to need constant monetary help, having married 'poorly,' so a portion of the monies from the mortgage go to her. My friend keeps tabs. 

I guess it's like getting the inheritance early. Fine. Eat the cake now. I get that.

So, maybe the reverse mortgage think works for them. Maybe it was the right choice. For them. When I think of them, way up a private road, behind a locked gate, watching their Fox (I hesitate to say News) Propaganda Network, I have to think about what they believe they're getting for their votes.

I could say more, but I'm hoping you get the drift.

I must add that they are actually wonderful people, but they're scared of the great "They," the hordes of "Them." The last time I did some work for them, my friend Stephen, bearded, with a man bun, was helping. That was scary for them. "He's all right," I said. Even though I still had an Obama sticker on the back window of my vehicle, making my judgment or assessment questionable, after a day or so, they determined he might be all right.

All right.