New York magazine polls "some of the brightest minds in real-estate economics" and gathers the predictions on our crazy local market from dire to sunny. It turns out their worst-case scenario is that by 2010 purchase prices for housing plummet frighteningly... to 2004 levels. Oh, how frightening! Panic! How utterly unimaginative. Couldn't they have worked global warming into this or something? Maybe little illos of million-dollar 320 square-foot studios with water pouring in the windows in the year 2020—and outside you can spy former brokers and publicists, clad only in dog fur, their botox long expired, wrestling each other in the dank rising waters for big steaming hanks of child-meat?