This will be my last post here. After recent events, I can’t bring myself to keep posting on a platform that’s become overrun with negativity and hate. I’ve definitely made some good connections here, and I’d love to stay in touch - so feel free to reach out. But for me, it’s time to step away from the negativity and focus my energy on LinkedIn, where I’d rather spend time around people I respect and want to be associated with.
These past few weeks have been very difficult. A husband and father was senselessly gunned down, and a Ukrainian woman was murdered in Charlotte. Lives were cut short, families left grieving, and those responsible must be held accountable.
Moments like these remind us how vulnerable we are and how important it is to focus on what truly matters in life.
New York foreclosures are like parents with kids fighting in the back seat. Except these aren’t normal kids – these are sugar-loaded, bare-knuckle brawlers. One’s throwing haymakers, the other’s going for the hair-pull, and somebody just landed an uppercut that knocked out a baby tooth.
The parents? They just turn up the radio and hope the dental bill works itself out.
That’s exactly how New York courts handle foreclosures: lenders and borrowers pound away at each other for years while the judge stares out the window and pretends nothing’s happening.
Meanwhile, the only real winner is usually the city. Taxes keep accruing in front of the mortgage, tax liens pile up, and the city sits back collecting double-digit interest like it’s running a payday loan business.
The irony? By not making decisions, the courts have trained everyone to stop expecting them to. Borrower and lender slug it out in the corner, the judge takes a nap, and the cycle repeats.
If the courts actually ruled faster, cases would move through the system, the backlog would shrink, and maybe, just maybe, New York foreclosure law wouldn’t feel like family therapy conducted with the door locked and no adults in the room.
New York is a magical place. You’ve got pizza, bagels, Broadway - and if you stop paying your mortgage for six years, you might just win a brand-new free house!
Here’s the routine:
You don’t pay.
Bank files foreclosure.
You scream, “Never got the papers!”
Judge squints: “Looks like the process server taped it to the mezuzah side of the door instead of the other side. Technical foul. Case dismissed.”
Meanwhile the six-year statute of limitations clock ticks down like a time bomb in a bad action movie.
Mortgage disappears. Gone. Vaporized.
And don’t forget: lenders aren’t allowed to sue you on the note and foreclose at the same time. Election of remedies, baby. FAPA makes sure once foreclosure dies, so does the bank’s last shred of hope.
But here’s the part that drives everyone crazy. It’s not like the borrower didn’t know. They got letters for YEARS. Mountains of them. The kind of clutter that could get you on Hoarders. And every single one says the same thing: “You still owe money.”
Sometimes the letters even include a little return envelope - “for your convenience.” As if the only reason you haven’t paid your $500,000 mortgage is because you don’t own an envelope. “Honey, quick! Grab a pen! We can finally pay off the house because Bank of America sent us a free #10 envelope!”
So yes, in New York, you can ignore a decade of letters, misplace a single affidavit, and thanks to one mezuzah-side mistake, you end up with a house on the house.
Ever see a “non-performing loan” where the only thing performing is the attorney’s billable hours?
Today a borrower told me Bank of America’s lawyer has rung up about $2 million since 2019. At this point, the loan isn’t distressed - it’s the attorney’s side hustle retirement plan. Every extra month, cha-ching, another Peloton shows up in his basement.
That’s the twisted part of distressed debt: the borrower’s out of cash, the bank’s losing patience, and the lawyer is the only one generating reliable returns.
I asked if anyone knows a good real estate agent for Queens.
Queens, New York. Apartments. Co-ops. This one is actually a two-family house.
Instead, I’m now talking to agents who sell CASTLES.
Apparently, everyone heard “Queens” and thought I meant Game of Thrones.
One guy sent me a full listing:
FOR SALE: Medieval Fortress, “Queens Adjacent”
27 bedrooms, 1 functioning bathroom (but hey, stone walls are basically self-cleaning).
Natural light (if you consider flaming torches “natural”).
Motivated seller - recently slayed by rival knight.
Bonus space: dungeon, moat, trebuchet pad.
Price negotiable. Accepting offers in gold coins, livestock, or Bitcoin mined by wizards.
So yeah, if anyone knows an agent who can give me some info on an ACTUAL home in Queens (not one with a working portcullis), I’m still looking.
I have never understood attorney billing practices. Supposedly, every time you call your lawyer, they’re instantly logging the minutes like Olympic timekeepers. You ask, “Hey, where do I mail the original documents?” and somewhere in the background your lawyer is diving across the room like Indiana Jones trying to hit the Start button on the Official Mendy Pollack Billing Stopwatch.
Are they really doing this? I picture every law firm conference room filled with synchronized stopwatches, abacuses, and maybe one guy in robes chanting Gregorian timekeeping prayers. The senior partner is pacing around with a clipboard yelling, “Johnson, you forgot to clock in that six-second call about the fax machine! That’s .1 hours, man, .1 HOURS!”
Meanwhile, if I ever bill by the hour, I write things down honestly: “Started at 2:17, finished at 3:03, spent most of it Googling whether the plural of ‘platypus’ is ‘platypuses’ or ‘platypi.’” But attorneys? No way. They’d find a way to bill 1.3 hours for “Platypus-related research, highly complex.”
Honestly, I’m half convinced law schools just issue students a Monty Python–style hourglass with sand that costs $600/hour to flip.
EXCLUSIVE: A young Gazan boy dubbed “Amir,” who traveled to a humanitarian distribution site and was reported killed by the IDF in May, has been found alive and hiding with his mother.
Yesterday I was traveling through New York City, and I noticed something shocking: there is nowhere to use the bathroom on the highways in the boroughs.
In New Jersey, it’s easy - the Turnpike and Parkway have bathrooms everywhere. It’s like a parade of service plazas. You can’t drive 20 minutes without being offered a bathroom, a slice of pizza, and maybe a commemorative keychain.
But in New York? Nothing. Not a single rest stop. Just miles of traffic and you trying to do advanced negotiations with your internal organs.
Which leaves me wondering: do New Yorkers have some kind of different plumbing system the rest of us don’t know about? Maybe their bladders are synced to MetroCards and only activate when the F train is delayed. Or maybe the city just figures “holding it” is character-building, like parallel parking or paying rent.
Either way - if you’re driving the boroughs, plan ahead.
First day back after a long holiday: salespeople everywhere wake up like caffeinated gladiators. Phones charged, pep talks rehearsed, LinkedIn profiles polished to a mirror shine.
And then… nothing. The buyers, lenders, decision-makers - all buried alive under a mountain of emails with subject lines like “per my last email.”
So here’s my suggestion: let’s stop pretending. On the first day back, the only people who actually want to talk are salespeople. To other salespeople.
We could just have one giant worldwide sales call, like a speed-dating marathon where everyone pitches everyone else, closes imaginary deals, and awards each other “Salesperson of the Year” plaques made of leftover bagels from the office kitchen.
Holiday tradition solved.
I can buy distressed real estate, wrangle with lenders, and negotiate millions in debt. But ask me to keep a calendar? Forget it. I shut off notifications so I can concentrate - which means I now concentrate on forgetting appointments. Somewhere out there, a lonely Outlook ping is crying into the void, wondering if I still care.
I’m really trying to work on this, but here’s the truth: my business requires a ton of focus. It’s a balance - yes, a good calendar is critical, but sometimes the only way to solve a messy deal is to shut everything else out and give it 100% concentration.
I just read an appraisal from July 2025 where they arrived at their valuation using a 4% cap rate. I didn't know they still made those.
A trip down memory lane.
Ah yes. The good old days.
Just because something’s called a “value-add” deal doesn’t mean you’re going to make a profit.
You can renovate units, raise rents, improve management - all things that genuinely add value. But if you paid way over market on day one, you’ll still be under water. You are adding value to the property, but not enough to outrun what you overpaid.
That’s the real distinction: it’s not about buying a “value-add” deal. It’s about buying a deal where the value you add actually makes it worth more than what you paid. Otherwise you’ll be working on it until your grandkids are in assisted living, still explaining how this one’s “about to turn the corner.”
Email Subject line: “Just trying to get to the top of your inbox…”
Translation: I’m pressing the elevator button over and over, convinced it makes the doors open quicker
What's up with this tactic?
I can handle "following up".
"Pushing your way to the top of the inbox" is just rude.
Am I making too big of a deal about this?
When prospecting for distressed debt, here’s one scenario I don’t even touch:
Every so often I come across a property so over-leveraged it looks like the bank’s underwriting department was run by ferrets on Adderall.
Not just a $25M property with $30M of debt. I’m talking about a $25M property with $48M of debt - the kind of capital stack that makes you wonder if the loan officer was being paid in tequila shots.
Now, could I call the lender and offer them today’s actual value? Sure. But that’s like walking into a hospital waiting room and saying, “Hey, anyone here want to get both legs amputated for fun?” They’re just not in the right headspace.
Because when a lender does finally sell that note, it’s only after they’ve hired a Loan Sale Advisor to shop it to the entire planet - basically to confirm, in writing, that yes, they really, truly, absolutely blew it.
And once everyone agrees the property is worth way less, they’ll try to find someone who’s almost as big an idiot as they were the first time. That’s not an “off-market deal.” That’s a group therapy session for bad decisions.
👉 What do you think?
Do you chase these massively over-leveraged clown-car deals, or do you leave them for the Loan Sale Advisor to pass around like a hot potato?