As P. T. Barnum might have said, there’s a sucker re-born every second.
Years ago, I had to go to Florida to settle my father’s estate. I had planned to fly in and out the same day, but had to reschedule. I had a very early flight out o Orlando. As the plane took off and was climbing, I looked out the window at the suburbs around the city. There were rows of houses separate by what was clearly marshes. I thought back to the offer I received as a child informing that I had won land in Florida. I had entered a drawing at the state fair and rushed in to show my mother. I thought I was going to be very wealthy. She explained that it was a scam, and that they were selling swamp land. As I looked out of the plane, I sighed and thought, that could have been mine…or not. Florida is, quite literally, a huge, swampy sand bar in many places.
This was written in 2005, two years before the bubble burst. Don’t let anyone tell you Bell, and possibly Heir, didn’t warn you.
The Grandchildren & Great Grandchildren of some of the people who bought Florida “Vacation Lots” during the 1930s still occasionally show up in Florida looking for the “Homesite” great granddaddy bought.
And, yes, it’s still under water.
That last panel sure reads different after Thursday