Months later, this book is still garbage III

Reading 3 reviews of Jim Randel books is more entertaining than reading even one of the actual books. Last year Financial Highway asked us to review one of his books, then another, then a third. Unfortunately, he’s written more. Fortunately, we weren’t asked to review the remainder.

We call this Recycle Friday at Control Your Cash – a reworking of an old post – but even one of our Friday posts entails far more work than Randel put into his Tōhoku earthquake of a book series. Enjoy:

The Skinny On The Housing Crisis is the fattest title in Jim Randel’s The Skinny on series, running 269 pages. The cover blurb is written by Connecticut attorney general and U.S. Senate hopeful Dick Blumenthal, the guy who said:

In Vietnam we had to endure taunts and insults, and no one said, “Welcome home”

despite never having served in Vietnam. (Note: Incredibly, Blumenthal won his election. Handily. He should have gone further with his campaign-trail prevarication. Why not conjure up a couple of Purple Hearts and a Distinguished Service Medal while he was at it?) That quote is about as dependable as this one:

This book performs an extraordinary public service.

The Skinny On The Housing Crisis was released 2 years ago, and is as dated as a gallon of milk from that time.

I’ve already assailed the childish format of the The Skinny on series, so I won’t repeat it here. This book – along with the five other volumes in the series – chronicles the adventures of a stick-figure couple looking to learn about the financial world. As it’s an illustrated book, Randel uses frame numbers (two to a page) rather than page numbers.

The first 15 or so frames of The Skinny On The Housing Crisis are almost identical to their counterparts in Randel’s equally unreadable The Skinny on Real Estate Investing. Apparently his stick-figure couple watches a lot of late-night infomercials and enjoys repeating conversations.

The book is loaded with punctuation mistakes. As a reviewer, this is annoying. As a reader, it’d break the sale for me if I were thinking about forking over the $13 Randel expects. The Skinny On The Housing Crisis won the Robert Bruss Real Estate Book of the Year award, leaving open the question of whether Paris Hilton’s Confessions of an Heiress was eligible. If it was, it should have beaten The Skinny On The Housing Crisis.

By frame 34, we learn that you shouldn’t use a mortgage lender who works in the same office as a realtor. Randel seems convinced that mortgage brokers are even less ethical than attorneys (Randel’s day job.) One sequence shows a mortgage broker granting a stated income loan to a filthy applicant who claims he clears $300,000 annually. So people shopping for houses told bald-faced lies to brokers, and therefore brokers carry the moral obligation for believing them. As Homer Simpson once helpfully explained to Marge, “It takes two to lie – one to lie, and one to listen.”

Randel’s inability to stay on point is so profound that at several times I checked the frame numbers to confirm that the publisher didn’t bind the pages in the wrong order. Randel does use several panels to explain the concept of second mortgages, which means you should read this before you read its companion volume, The Skinny on Real Estate Investing. In that book he references second mortgages without describing them.

This book is ostensibly intended for rookie audiences, yet Randel insists on introducing unfamiliar terms without defining them. “Mortgage brokerage fee”, for instance. And there it is again, page 68: Randel introduces concepts like “private mortgage insurance” and “loan-to-value (ratio)”, without saying what they are. One sentence later, it’s as if those terms never existed.

Here’s a free one for any aspiring non-fiction writer: assume your reader isn’t as familiar with industry jargon as you are. Randel’s refusal to do this makes for what will be a frustrating read if you attempt to slog through The Skinny On The Housing Crisis. Which you shouldn’t, because buying this book is an investment with a negative return.

Randel assumes the average realtor is only slightly less dishonest than the average mortgage broker, and that there’s no code of realtor ethics, and that a realtor can’t lose her license for violating it. Appraisers are untrustworthy, too: according to Randel they’ll appraise a house for more than its worth, because the mortgage broker who recommends the appraiser wants the house to hit a “target value”.

This makes no sense. Won’t a cheaper house sell faster? So the mortgage broker gets a slightly smaller cut. But he also gets it without working as long, and doesn’t have to worry about ethics violations.

The stick-figure couple buys a house before getting an appraisal, which is insane. There’s no excuse for Randel not pointing out the absurdity of this, and imploring readers to get the appraisal first.

Randel explains that during the real estate crisis, unethical buyers would apply for a loan worth more than the price of a house, give the seller slightly more than his asking price, and pocket the difference. He doesn’t cite any real examples, and besides, this criminal scheme seems like the kind of thing that’d be easy for a lender to figure out. Anyhow, at this point in the book the stick-figure couple’s realtor keeps encouraging them to raise their already fair offer.

Incredibly, a publisher allowed Randel to get away with sentences like

If you are shopping for a loan today, you should check with both mortgage brokers and with banks in order to get a good read on market rates.

Also, if you want to know what the weather’s like, you should go outside and look at the sky.

Randel continues with more unfounded allegations. For instance, people raised their credit scores by becoming “authorized users” of their friends’ credit card accounts. Would you let your friend have unrestricted access to your credit card?

Randel dismisses Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac with 1½ sentences. In a book about the housing crisis. This is like writing a book about World War II and not spending more than 12 words on—you know, the guy. German. Bad facial hair. Murdered lots of Jews.

This isn’t a book so much as it’s a crappily organized middle school research project. Randel borrows from Robert Kiyosaki, Stephen Dubner and Steven Leavitt, and the guy who wrote Confessions of a Subprime Lender. (Another tip for aspiring writers. Titling your book “Confessions of” anything is very original.) Randel even cribs an entire definition from Wikipedia, without taking a few seconds to rewrite it and make it his own. On almost every page, there’s a quote from or a recommendation for another book. Randel should have put these on the cover, and saved people the trouble of opening his weak offering.

While I’m dispensing advice, some more for Randel:

1) It’s not an “ATM machine”. Nor is it “NFL league”, “FAA administration”, or “DIY yourself”.
2) Don’t start a sentence with “you see.” You see, people will find it condescending that you felt the need to tell them to pay attention if your prose is too weak to do it itself.
3) The “brain surgery” metaphor hasn’t been fresh or inventive for about 25 years now, give or take.
4) A possessive takes an apostrophe (Randel’s incompetence). A plural doesn’t (the world has enough Randels). Thank you.

Randel does seem to be one of the few writers who understands the difference between i.e. and e.g.

Here’s the worthwhile information in Randel’s book:

-You can find home price estimates at Zillow. (He doesn’t mention this, but you can find exact sale prices at your county assessor’s website.)
-Your mortgage broker shouldn’t personally receive more than 1% of what you borrow. Of course, this assumes the broker will disclose his fee to you.
-Adjustable-rate mortgages are for idiots, unless you’re the chairman of the Federal Reserve Board and know exactly in which direction interest rates will head.
-Assuming you didn’t read the previous point, there are adjustable-rate mortgages that punish you for paying early.

If Randel was selling this as a history book, fine. Is it really important to know that subprime borrowing led to people occupying houses they couldn’t afford in 2006? If you’ve ever read a news story in the recent past, presumably you know this already.

Months later, this book is still garbage II

Another Recycle Friday, another book review, another unreadable pamphlet from Jim Randel, another post that originally appeared on Financial Highway. And if you think we’re done, wait until next Friday (although we’ll have plenty more for you before then.)

Last summer we reviewed this “book”. It hasn’t exactly gotten better with age. (Some other books, on the other hand, are timeless classics. And available on Amazon.)

Being sincere isn’t a sufficient condition for writing a self-help book. Jim Randel’s The Skinny On Willpower is yet another installment in the lawyer-cum-author’s The Skinny On series, (childishly) illustrated books that convey the details of time management, networking, success etc., using stick figures.
Seriously.

The Skinny On gimmick boasts that it condenses important material for the busy reader, if you can consider consuming a The Skinny On book to be “reading”. With The Skinny On Willpower, your reviewer has now made it to the end of three The Skinny On books – making him perhaps the only person on the planet to do so while being neither a Rand Publishing employee nor a Randel family member.

The Skinny On Willpower is everything you’ve ever read in a self-help book and can recite after a lobotomy, distilled into a booklet devoid of angle, showmanship or presentation. What distinguishes Randel from other self-help authors? Well, he disdains Rhonda Byrne’s The Secret, which he should. Randel’s just a little more vocal about it than most of us. The content of The Skinny On Willpower is so unremarkable, one can only attack the form. Randel may be an abysmal writer, but he is consistent. The same bugbears in Randel’s other titles are also on display here:

  • plugging other titles in the series in the middle of the book? Check.
  • quoting liberally from as many authors as he can think of? Check.
  • refusing to use contractions, in the faint hope Queen Victoria might buy a copy of the book? Check.
  • self-congratulation, like a line about how football kickers “exercise dominion over harmful thoughts and kick them out of their mind (good pun, huh?)” Check.

Self-help themes are so universal that it’s hard to sound original while writing a self-help book. In the last 20 years, the only inventive works that resounded with this reviewer were Hyrum Smith’s The Ten Natural Laws of Successful Time and Life Management and Harvey Mackay’s Dig Your Well Before You’re Thirsty.  But those books were written by real authors. Even in this necessarily derivative genre, The Skinny On Willpower is as derivative as it gets. If there’s an original thought in this book, aside from the unorthodoxy of using stick figures to convey a point, I didn’t see it.

Make your goals specific. Shun negativity. Set realistic expectations. Don’t compare yourself to others. Nothing good comes easy (sic). The journey of 1000 miles begins with a first step. Discipline turns (conscious) activities into habits. Willpower is directly connected to mind control. There are no shortcuts. Beating your kids for the fun of it can be cathartic.

Those are all actual quotes from the book, followed by one that would have made The Skinny On Willpower semi-interesting had Randel chosen to use it.

Randel does introduce one concept, kind of – the difference between moderation and going cold turkey in changing behaviors. But he doesn’t argue for one over the other.

By frame 132 (Randel uses frames, two to a page, rather than pages), we get another one. It’s the first phrasing in the book that was unfamiliar: “ego depletion”. It means that once you commit to something difficult, it makes it hard to commit to much more than that. Don’t quit cigarettes and heroin at the same time, I guess. This book, like other titles in the series, is so monotonous and so simplistic that it forces a writer to search for adjectives. “Puerile” is the one that fits best so far.

This is the kind of book that a well-meaning but clueless parent will buy for a kid going off to college. If you’re a well-meaning but clueless parent, a caveat: the kid will never read it.

We’re all over town

What do this image, its subject and Control Your Cash have in common? Overexposure!

Whoring ourselves out to any personal finance blog with enough good taste to bring us on board, if only temporarily. If you think our posts here are inventive and groundbreaking, you should see what we’re up to elsewhere.

Last week we debuted on Wise Bread, the undisputed king of personal finance blogs, at least if you rank them by readership. (Alright, we gave them our standard credit card rap, only updated for the masses.) The folks at Smart on Money invited us to ruminate, too; on 401(k)s and what’s in them. To say nothing of Money Under 30, who let us grace their space with a hearty combination of hardcore content and softcore images.

Arohan at Personal Dividends took a guest post, too. In that one, we outline a strategy that’s easy to activate and that’s already saved our Man of the Year some money.

We had no choice but to tear a fellow “author” to shreds at Financial Highway, multiple times, after being asked to review his books. We’re eagerly awaiting for a reviewer to return the favor (and yes, our book is still available on Amazon.) The mysterious Financial Samurai invited us to post on the benefits of incorporating, as we wage the endless battle against government confiscation.

We posted on Christian Common Cents about how to minimize the damage if you bought too much house. And similarly on Invest it Wisely, for that matter. That’s in addition to Len Penzo, Money Funk, Free From Broke, and so many more sites that we’re in danger of drowning in links. The remaining sites we haven’t posted on might as well sit back and take it. The Control Your Cash juggernaut remains unstoppable.