"It’s no wonder these houses aren’t selling. Just look at that crack right there."
Sales of previously occupied homes plunged last month to the lowest level in 15 years, despite the lowest mortgage rates in decades and bargain prices in many areas.
According to the National Association of Realtors, July home sales fell by more than 27 percent to a seasonally adjusted annual rate of 3.83 million. It was the largest monthly drop on records dating back to 1968, with sharp declines recorded in all regions of the country.
According to annalists, the poor economy, a stagnant 9.5 percent unemployment rate and the expiration of tax credits in April are responsible for the decrease.
Or are they? Some individuals, including contractor extraordinaire Mike Holmes, believe the slump is the direct result of poor house construction and under-qualified, fly-by-night contractors. Continue reading »
I don’t know about all youse pan-handlers but I’m gettin’ pretty sick an tired of all them microgreens. What the hell’s all the get up over ‘em anyways? When I sit down with Lucy, my trusty old mule, ta enjoy me a fine steak or scallop I don’t need no stinking shrubbery all over ‘em. And jest what the hell are they anyways? Looks like godblammit clovers or somethin’. I don’t need no clovers in my supper. Clovers is for leprechauns. I mean, if’n yer gonna put somethin’ on my grub why not make it a nice béchamel? That’s better’n them weeds, ain’t it? Heck, even some spicy aioli would do me jest fine. Anyways, that’s all fer now. Lucy’s braying up something fierce and I gots to go soothe ‘er. Hold on there Lucy, I’m a comin’.
Imagine if you will, that you are a small herbivorous quadruped of the rodent family scurrying to and fro fervently within your environment in a search for sustenance. Unlike Homo sapiens with higher brain functions, you have no temporal sense or sense of mortality. You cavort and play since you are a clever and intelligent little creature, a common squirrel. Most hominoids think you are cute and adorable. You spy a rather tasty and enticing walnut laying on the ground not 8 feet from you. You scratch your furry ass and then furtively dart towards the mouth-watering morsel. As you grab it within your dexterous little paws you catch movement out of your peripheral vision. SPLAT… you are road kill.
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