I am not looking for a new house. I do, however, like to pick up real estate magazines at the grocery just to see what kind of houses are available that I can't afford in parts of town that wouldn't have me. I've been doing this for some time, and I am convinced of one thing: Realtors are actually taught bad writing and marketing skills in Realtor school. It was bad in Florida and it is bad here and I'm sure it's bad anywhere you go.
I'm sure most of these people are fine, educated folks, but they are saddled with the task of making every listing sound like the house of my dreams, but some houses are just crappy. They can't write, "roach infested crack house," so they say, "charming investment property, rent paid in cash." But using lawyer-worthy verbiage isn't enough so they they resort to other abuses of the language. It is painful to read.
First up, exclaimation points. I hate exclaimation points
. Most of them use so many that they have to resort to double and triple exclaimation points. They use all caps. The man on page 15 of this month's riveting magazine has one listing that starts
ONE OF THE BUILDER'S MOST POPULAR PLANS!!
And he ends the listing with
Priced to sell at $344,900!
He has six listings on the entire page, three have exclaimation points at the price, and one says, I kid you not:
Priced at $2,499,000!!!
I guess that a 2 1/2 million dollar house is tripley exciting to that guy. Especially if he gets a six percent commission.
Then there is the guy on page ten, who is such a lazy marketer that he starts three of the seven listings on his page with
EMBRACED BY NATURAL BEAUTY
Couldn't he at least given us one "park-like setting" and one "bucolic dream"? They also insisit on using their headshots to differentiate or personalize themselves. The problem is, they are all dressed the same. Every realtor in this book, man or woman, has on a smart, black business suit. Besides, who cares what you look like? You're selling a house, not a date.
One proven marketing method that they never use is sex. I got news, Realtors, sex sells. I think I'm going to go to Realtor
school, and when I get out, I'm going to use sex to sell houses. I'll call my agency Frankie Goes to Goodlettsville and every listing will simply say
I'M TOO SEXY FOR THIS HOUSE!!!!
Pain in the Ass.
Exador and I are leading parallel lives
. About three weeks ago, I ripped apart my back. The pain was going down my leg, my foot was in excruciating pain and I had a literal pain in the ass so severe that I couldn't sit.
There are a lot of activities that require sitting. I live five minutes from work. I was having to stop three or four times in the morning driving to work because it felt like someone was stabbing me in the ankle when I pressed on the gas.
I have had back problems my whole adult life, and if it gets bad, I try a chiropractor first, because doctors bring up surgery within five minutes of being in their office. So I have a customer who is a chiropractor just down the street. I hobbled in to see him and he asked me a bunch of questions and ran some tests. One question he asked me was if I had any changes in my bowel movements. I said, "well, I am unable to sit down without experiencing agonizing pain, so what do you think?"
So he's been cracking my bones everyday for a couple of weeks. I can now sit and the pain is gradually subsiding. I still have severe ankle pain because I rolled it three times while it was numb and injured it, and my calf is numb and my foot is splayed to the side and I can't wiggle my toes and my right ass cheek sometimes feels like it is on fire, but it is getting a lot better.
Exador had a commenter come by and tell him to lay off the gin, that it is dangerous. I couldn't agree more. Listen Ex, bourbon is the self-medicating elixir of choice for back pain. Everybody knows that.
A political observation
Dear Religious Conservatives in the State Legislature,
I have been working day and night lately, and I today have a real day off. For dinner, I am going to make filet mignon with sweet and new potatoes broiled in olive oil with fresh rosemary, and steamed green vegetables of some kind, probably brocolli and baby carrots. Maybe some garlic bread and a green salad, too. It is going to be a leisurely and delicious meal.
Now, we all know that there is a nod and a wink when it comes to the separation of church and state. I will gladly give you prayer in school or the Ten Commandments in the courthouse if you will allow me, a taxpaying citizen of legal drinking age, to go buy a fucking bottle of cabernet to go with this meal on this fine Sunday evening.
Knuck L. Head,
I've mentioned several times that I don't get political here. So I'm going to continue that tradition by making a non-political observation.
When I turned on the TV this morning, it was on one of those Sunday news shows, because it was on the same channel that had that miserable pre-season Jay Cutler fest that was on when I went to sleep last night.
So there was George Stephanapalapalanouapolous and John Kerry, whose height to width ratio of his head is rivaled only by Randy Travis. They played a sound byte of W, and his disappointment of the Supreme Court ruling that spying on folks without a warrant is unconstitutional. Ol' W mentioned several times that "we are at war," and there are certain actions that must be taken when "we are at war."
Uh, I remember from seventh grade that war can only be declared by Congress. Did I miss that day in this whole Iraq thing?
Blow in her face
Beavis and Bushhead
NIT removes the masks
When I started blogging, I was anonymous, like almost everyone else I read. It allowed me to write some really personal stuff, just because I felt like it. When I started meeting fellow Nashville bloggers, I realized that many bloggers in town wrote anonymously because they worked at a big company and they wrote about politics and abortion and religion and worried if they did it openly, they might lose their job. (And they were obviously blogging on company time, too.) I started thinking that I didn't have anyone to answer to, and it was kind of silly to be anonymous, and that maybe I should take off the mask. My friends were all reading my crap, so why not? Still, I was a little nervous. Then CLC started blogging, and right at the beginning, he put up a picture
of himself giving platelets at the Red Cross. At first I thought, "how brave!" Then I thought, "Brave, my ass. All he did was put up a picture of himself on the internet where any freaky stalker who likes 40-year-old men who give blood can track him down and kill him. there is nothing brave about that."
So I posted some pictures of myself, but didn't give my name. I have a 5-year-old little girl, and the internet is a freaky place, and I still wasn't comfortable. Then, because of my business, I really "came out" in a big way. Because blogging has been an integral part of the marketing of my BBQ joint
, this blog is like Cheers, where everybody knows my name. Now even my mother reads my crap. That's why we don't have the same . . . uh . . . stories we used to have here. It's really weird after months of writing anonymously, that now, when I mention something like cutting my finger, within 10 minutes, there is an email from my mother asking me how bad it is.
But I've seen this anonymity loss happen a lot in Nashville, and I think it is directly related to the community that has been created by Nashville is Talking
. I don't think we would have the sense of community that we have here if someone didn't take it upon themselves to bring us all together like WKRN did. And there is no way that my "genius" marketing plan (telling people about my business on my blog) would have worked without it. And because of that, I have met lots of people that I normally wouldn't have otherwise. I think that is great.
So here is another picture of myself
. I just got my back waxed.
Clinton and the Fords
I watched Harold Ford, Jr. and Bill Clinton speak at the LP Field last night, and all I can say is that both those guys can work a room. It was a refreshing change from the standard stiff bullshit that comes out of the mouths of the regular politicians, you know, the ones who all look like Trent Lott with the exact same haircut -- severe part on the side with bangs sprayed tight across the forehead. The haircut that I had in third grade.
So Ford got the nomination, no surprise there. And the powers-that-be are obviously grooming him for a future run at the White House. But there is a Senate race to deal with first. Now the fun begins. If you aren't from Tennessee, you know that he comes from a power hungry political family, and one that doesn't always play by the rules. I don't know exactly the details of how they are all related, but there are uncles and cousins and the like who have won races in West Tennessee by getting votes from dead people and pets. I don't know if this guy is going to be able to distance himself from guilt by association in addition to any other obstacles he may face in his campaign. (No one trusts a bachelor. Is he gay or a playboy?)
I think the most telling factor when you look at how his family will do anything to gain power, is to look at his father. Junior followed in his dad's footsteps by getting his law degree from Michigan, where Senior was an All-American football star. Senior had a long and distinguished career in congress, but that wasn't enough power for the cagey politician. So, through a series of backroom dealings, he became the only man to ever gain the presidency who was never elected to the office in any way. For you youngsters, the Nixon administration was mired in controversy before the whole Watergate thing came up. Part of the controversy forced the Vice President, Spiro T. Agnew, to resign. I can't remember exactly why he had to resign, I was around the age where I had the severe part and bangs combed over my forehead. Anyway, when Agnew resigned, Tricky Dick appointed Ford to Vice President, then Nixon stepped down, making Ford the President. He was never elected, and was soundly beat by Jimmy Carter in the next election. But he did have a few years as the most powerful man in the free world, a position Junior desperately wants to attain.
So, Clinton is helping groom the Fords to be the next Father/Son team in the White House. Just politics as usual, I suppose.
You don't bring me flowers anymore. Bitch.
Have you ever seen a duet in a show where it is a guy and a girl and the guy has on a tux and he's gay and the girl has on a long sequined cocktail dress and they do a ballad like "You Don't Bring Me Flowers" or "Send In The Clowns" and they start at the opposite sides of the stage facing outward and slowly move toward each other until the end of the song when they are nose to nose singing and looking in each other's eyes bathed only in a blue spotlight dancing off the sequins of the dress and the sweat of the gay guy's forehead?
Well, I have. About a hundred fucking times.
Reason number 782 why I am no longer a cruise ship musician.