Six Months Later: Open House Picks 6/15/07

hey brownstoner, i hope you’re giving ‘the what’ a nice present for the holidays. without his baiting in the forums it’d be difficult to secure advertisers.

oh snap, what if ‘the what’ and brownstoner are the same person? cackles diabolically.

yep that old out of control inflation argument – avg 2.7% over 6-years (CPI all index)

dude if you’re one of those freaky gold-bug people there are plenty of places you can go to rant against the black-helicopters

So Brownstoner chose 4 HOTD that have sold in summer, what about the remaining 90%of HOTD & COTD still not sold. Care to do an update on those Brownstoner?

I bet less than 10% of people on this blog could even name who ANY of the leaders of China are.

Without looking it up…

For those of you who have expressed concern and support, I am putting my life at INCREDIBLE RISK to acknowledge you and thank you for your kind words. As for 12:55, please save your finger-wagging schoolmarm act for another time… oh, say, when there isn’t a FUCKING APOCALYPSE going on outside your window!!!

Moving on, my communication MUST be brief, but I will offer this Update:

Obviously, I somehow managed to fight off (with only my wits, guile, fists–and a U Haul Trailer hitch blown my way in an explosion), then outrun the bloodthirsty goons who exposed my safehouse.

Sadly, my protector Ludmila and her son Roderick were not so fortunate. It is a crime that she, who purchased her sub basement Jr. One Bedroom (Jerry Minsky, broker) back in 1997 with a no frills 30 year fixed (never even re-financed, the sweet woman) would one day find herself cold-bloodedly murdered at the hands of a heartless mob of madmen. Madmen whose brains are addled beyond recognition by oxygen deprivation, the horrific, yet inevitable result of years inside the RE bubble.

But I have no time to shed tears for fallen comerades. I can only hope to survive another minute, hour… or dare I dream: day.

At this point, despite all evidence to the contrary, I DO dare to dream. Fortune has shined upon me in the form of Shilpa, a Hindu healer who came Brooklyn just over a year ago, found a job waiting tables at al di la and signed a contract at NoVo (payment provided by her father the eye surgeon back in Cleveland Heights). While she awaited her dream home’s completion, she sought shelter in a cozy one bedroom rental with decorative fireplace, stainless steel kitchen and updated bathroom on the corner of (undisclosed location) and (undisclosed location). It his here that I find myself–beaten, bruised and bloodied… being nursed back to health.

But for what? To fight to the death with marauding feral bankers over charred cans of smoked oysters amidst the rubble of Union Market? (note to self–check EAGLE PROVISIONS!) If I’d only listened to THE motherfucking WHAT earlier, liquidated everything into gold, purchased five years supply of food and built a rocketship–I wouldn’t be bearing witness to the destruction of human civilization, I’d be riding this shitstorm out with him in sweet, sweet orbit. FUCK!

Well, there’s no use in wondering “what coulda been?” Thanks to Shilpa and some of these excellent Ayurvedic spices, I’m living in the NOW. And hopefully that’s going to be enough to give me the strength to get to Iceland.

More later.