Obama says, “unions!” Is anyone concerned yet?
Daily Archives: May 8, 2009
Madoff trustee starts “hardship fund” for victims. Walter and Monica first to apply, Catharine Hooper follows.
Two Greenwich lowlifes pled guilty yesterday to selling dope here in Connecticut. Hardly news, but I was struck by the fact that they’re said to have been selling 30 pounds of the stuff every month for $4,000 per pound, yet they live (or did live) on Hamilton Avenue! Nothing against Ham Ave, but if there’s $120,000 running through your finger tips every month and the best you can do is a walk-up apartment in Chickahominy, there’s something wrong with your business model.
Oil exploration companies agreeing to do business with Chavez is as stupid as Wall Street bankers donating to Obama
Yet both groups keep doing it. Death wish? Today Chavez expropriated the equipment of oil services companies hired by that benighted country to explore for oil.
Pelosi was just one of dozens of Democrats briefed on waterboarding and other exotic interrogation techniques. So I’ve changed my mind – instead of seeking to disbar those Bush Administration lawyers, let’s start the full criminal investigation Obama and his crowd demanded last fall. Ready?
I’d say realism, in this case. 11 Mountain Wood Drive is back on the market, now listed for $3.750 million. It’s a 1978 house on two acres that was originally listed for what I thought the laughable price of $6.250 million in May of 2007, eventually changed brokers and was relisted for $4.950 in ’08, and now here it is again, still another million lighter. Original listing showed 4,072 square feet, now it claims 5,922, all without benefit of a renovation or addition. Gotta love those rubber rulers!
70% rule has it at $2.493 million, just if you’re counting.
This morning in Arcadia Coffee I spied a poster advertising “Olympic Fencing Camp”. That sounded good: nothing like a summer spent with a horse on the range, stringing barbed wire, but it turned out to be a different sort of instruction, involving skinny little pretend swords. Ugh.
It seems to me that this whole ‘summer’s too valuable to waste” theme has gone overboard. Learn Russian, calculus, tennis or baseball – even fencing, at the expense of fun? When you’re 12? When is a kid supposed to be a kid?
When I was eleven I spent the summer at an “Indian camp” in Vermont, conducted by a 75-year-old nudist Quaker named Ken Web and his wife. We lived in tipis, cooked our own food, ran around in breechclouts or nothing at all and hunted porcupines and bullfrogs with bows and arrows. I added nothing to my resume from all that – in fact, I don’t believe I’ve had cause to mention it until today, 45 years later, but I had a wonderful summer and I can still put an arrow where I want to. Cool, huh?
Overstructured summers sound like a horrible idea.
Nothing exciting on the real estate scene today, or at this writing (1:00 pm). Lots of buzz about impending offers and I’m told that certain agents are busy emailing their clients that the bottom has been reached and the market is turning. I wouldn’t dare to call the bottom of either the stock market or the local real estate market but I don’t think we’ve seen the latter and I know nothing about the stock market.
Yesterday I referred to this week’s brief flurry of activity as a “false dawn”. Frank Farricker does me one better, describing it as “Indian Summer”. If you remember your New England history, you’ll recall that Indian Summer was that bright, warm spell that came after the first frost, belying the coming winter and lulling settlers into a sleepy complacency. Of course, the Indians used that same good weather to raid far south of their homes, reaching as far as Deerfield, Massachusetts one memorable day, where they killed the men, slaughtered the infants, raped the women (before tomahawking them) and carried off the girls to become Indian brides. The poor town’s still griping about that one.
So are we about to enter a summer of invigorated selling or are we seeing a brief glimpse of what once was? I’m keeping my powder dry, myself.
Well, in a sense. Upset that his trained pool of White House reporters isn’t treating his $17 billion in budget cuts seriously (money that would amount to a nano-second of federal spending, money that isn’t really being cut but rather shifted to areas that Obama likes more), he is now trying to issue dictation to the scribes. They’ll “take this down” meekly, I predict, since they abandoned all claim of independence long ago, somewhere at the start of the campaign trail.