Mark Steel's Blog, page 3
January 28, 2015
Breaking up with the Captain of the cheerl...
Breaking up with the Captain of the cheerleading squad 1-28-15
Were you ever hesitant to let someone get too close...and I am referring to telling them everything about yourself...the good, the bad, and the even worse? When I was a teenager, I was afraid of telling girls how I really felt. In our high school, there was a stigma to getting dumped by a girl. Your friends might speculate as to the cause, and their imaginations were always far worse than the real reason. One day I was walking to class and on the spur of the moment decided to inoculate myself against ever being dumped again. I would cement my reputation as the guy who did the breaking up, NOT as the guy who got dumped.
Cheryl Halliday was tall, blond and oh so cute. She was not aware of my existence. She had a slim, athletic physique...which perfectly suited the captain of the cheerleading squad. I attended a very large high school, and this was a VERY coveted position amongst all of the "popular" girls. It meant respect...deference from all of the teachers...and a parting of the crowd of sorts as she walked between classes through the hallways with her "entourage" of pretty little co-cheerleaders.
As this unattainable vision floated into view, I timed it perfectly. Without warning, I jumped in front of Cheryl and her friends and in a loud, clear voice told her "Cheryl, it's over! You didn't call again last night and that's the last straw! We are through! It's done, BABY, and you can NEVER have me back!"
Cheryl looked very puzzled. Her friends glanced at her and then back at me, a thousand questions flashing across their faces. I walked away and then turned on my heel to finish my task. "What we had was special! By tonight YOU will realize you're NEVER gonna have that with any other guy! And STOP pretending you don't know what I'm talking about!"
I felt great! I had just broken up with the most popular girl in the school. I had delivered a pre-emptive strike long before the term was even invented. I broke up with Cheryl once more later in the school year, and so did my friend Glenn, and to her credit she was able to act equally surprised each time. To return to the Home Page, click here.
Were you ever hesitant to let someone get too close...and I am referring to telling them everything about yourself...the good, the bad, and the even worse? When I was a teenager, I was afraid of telling girls how I really felt. In our high school, there was a stigma to getting dumped by a girl. Your friends might speculate as to the cause, and their imaginations were always far worse than the real reason. One day I was walking to class and on the spur of the moment decided to inoculate myself against ever being dumped again. I would cement my reputation as the guy who did the breaking up, NOT as the guy who got dumped.
Cheryl Halliday was tall, blond and oh so cute. She was not aware of my existence. She had a slim, athletic physique...which perfectly suited the captain of the cheerleading squad. I attended a very large high school, and this was a VERY coveted position amongst all of the "popular" girls. It meant respect...deference from all of the teachers...and a parting of the crowd of sorts as she walked between classes through the hallways with her "entourage" of pretty little co-cheerleaders.
As this unattainable vision floated into view, I timed it perfectly. Without warning, I jumped in front of Cheryl and her friends and in a loud, clear voice told her "Cheryl, it's over! You didn't call again last night and that's the last straw! We are through! It's done, BABY, and you can NEVER have me back!"
Cheryl looked very puzzled. Her friends glanced at her and then back at me, a thousand questions flashing across their faces. I walked away and then turned on my heel to finish my task. "What we had was special! By tonight YOU will realize you're NEVER gonna have that with any other guy! And STOP pretending you don't know what I'm talking about!"
I felt great! I had just broken up with the most popular girl in the school. I had delivered a pre-emptive strike long before the term was even invented. I broke up with Cheryl once more later in the school year, and so did my friend Glenn, and to her credit she was able to act equally surprised each time. To return to the Home Page, click here.
January 22, 2015
Why didn't I get a Rescue Dog? 1-22-15Last April I b...
Why didn't I get a Rescue Dog? 1-22-15
Last April I bought a purebred Doberman puppy. I've had Dobermans in the past...a total of 5 to be precise. They are smart dogs, loyal, and very, very fast. They are natural guard dogs, but great with kids and pets. I considered other breeds during my search. I own a boat, and in my opinion Golden Retrievers are the best boating/water dogs available. But not every Golden Retriever looks like the one in the dog food commercials. Some have square heads. Some have reddish, blotchy fur. This would be fine if the name of the breed was Blotchy Reddish Retriever, but it's not. Down here in Sarasota, the land of fanatical dog lovers, I am considered to be somewhat middle-of-the-road as far as the amount of money I spend on my dog. Many of these dog lovers are retired and donate oodles of time to the local animal rescue facilities. Placing abandoned and abused animals into good homes requires energy and expertise. They take home a dog that could not be placed and was due for "the blue juice" every six months or so. Naturally, I perused some of the Rescue web sites before I began contacting private breeders. It was not promising. I suspect that anything resembling a purebred Doberman or Golden was snatched up long before its picture could be taken and posted. The faces on the websites were anything but friendly looking...in fact, I haven't seen so many misshapen heads since rabbits found the lettuce in my vegetable garden. There were squinty dogs, cross-eyed dogs, dogs with bent noses and multiple missing teeth. Some had missing legs or ears. The writing on the captions beneath the dogs photos was VERY creative. "My last owner was mean to me but the sores are healing although the fur may not grow back (and I will need $100 worth of medications every week)." Another dog on the website claimed to be a "Doberman/mix." LIARS! It was far closer to a Lab/Pit Bull mix. In fact, almost every rescue dog on the site was some type of Pit Bull "mix." One of the captions for these read "I need a home without other dogs as I am somewhat territorial." The part they omitted was that this crazy-looking fleabag also required a home without children...or adults...or neighbors. People, I love dogs too, but just put the damn thing down already!
Last April I bought a purebred Doberman puppy. I've had Dobermans in the past...a total of 5 to be precise. They are smart dogs, loyal, and very, very fast. They are natural guard dogs, but great with kids and pets. I considered other breeds during my search. I own a boat, and in my opinion Golden Retrievers are the best boating/water dogs available. But not every Golden Retriever looks like the one in the dog food commercials. Some have square heads. Some have reddish, blotchy fur. This would be fine if the name of the breed was Blotchy Reddish Retriever, but it's not. Down here in Sarasota, the land of fanatical dog lovers, I am considered to be somewhat middle-of-the-road as far as the amount of money I spend on my dog. Many of these dog lovers are retired and donate oodles of time to the local animal rescue facilities. Placing abandoned and abused animals into good homes requires energy and expertise. They take home a dog that could not be placed and was due for "the blue juice" every six months or so. Naturally, I perused some of the Rescue web sites before I began contacting private breeders. It was not promising. I suspect that anything resembling a purebred Doberman or Golden was snatched up long before its picture could be taken and posted. The faces on the websites were anything but friendly looking...in fact, I haven't seen so many misshapen heads since rabbits found the lettuce in my vegetable garden. There were squinty dogs, cross-eyed dogs, dogs with bent noses and multiple missing teeth. Some had missing legs or ears. The writing on the captions beneath the dogs photos was VERY creative. "My last owner was mean to me but the sores are healing although the fur may not grow back (and I will need $100 worth of medications every week)." Another dog on the website claimed to be a "Doberman/mix." LIARS! It was far closer to a Lab/Pit Bull mix. In fact, almost every rescue dog on the site was some type of Pit Bull "mix." One of the captions for these read "I need a home without other dogs as I am somewhat territorial." The part they omitted was that this crazy-looking fleabag also required a home without children...or adults...or neighbors. People, I love dogs too, but just put the damn thing down already!
January 11, 2015
One of my toilet bowls fills too slowly 1-11-15&nbs...
One of my toilet bowls fills too slowly 1-11-15
I don't normally vent about clients at my Personal Training Studio, but one of them is driving me nuts. He's a nice guy...about 75 years old, but has a bladder the size of a walnut. For clarification and yet to disguise his true identity, I shall refer to him as Walnut Bladder. I have two small but very clean bathrooms in my fitness studio. They are side by side but neither is identified as belonging to any particular gender. Due to some drain configurations beneath the floor, you have to step up one step to access one of the bathrooms. For identification purposes, we call it the "upstairs bathroom." The upstairs bathroom toilet flushes slowly and refills much, much slower. There is a constriction in the line somewhere--it has been thus every since I moved in. I don't pursue a permanent repair because the owner of the building moves nearly as slow as the toilet and my lease is up soon. After a flush, the tank on the back takes about 10 to 15 minutes to refill, depending on the water pressure at the moment. When Walnut Bladder enters the building for his workout, he always visits the upstairs bathroom first. He takes his time, and then exits to update me on the status of the toilet. If someone has used it recently, he can't wait to inform me that the toilet won't flush! This has been going on for 2 1/2 years! On occasion, Walnut Bladder will perform a task in the upstairs bathroom that requires the use of the vent fan...and then ten minutes later will back in there doing something that does not. Sometimes he does this in the opposite order. Naturally he will come out and tell me that the toilet flushed a short time ago, but now it does not! The man's bladder fills faster than the toilet tank reservoir! I intend to solve the problem for him with a minor surgical procedure that I saw on the Health Channel, but first I must find a dead elephant that no longer needs it's bladder.
I don't normally vent about clients at my Personal Training Studio, but one of them is driving me nuts. He's a nice guy...about 75 years old, but has a bladder the size of a walnut. For clarification and yet to disguise his true identity, I shall refer to him as Walnut Bladder. I have two small but very clean bathrooms in my fitness studio. They are side by side but neither is identified as belonging to any particular gender. Due to some drain configurations beneath the floor, you have to step up one step to access one of the bathrooms. For identification purposes, we call it the "upstairs bathroom." The upstairs bathroom toilet flushes slowly and refills much, much slower. There is a constriction in the line somewhere--it has been thus every since I moved in. I don't pursue a permanent repair because the owner of the building moves nearly as slow as the toilet and my lease is up soon. After a flush, the tank on the back takes about 10 to 15 minutes to refill, depending on the water pressure at the moment. When Walnut Bladder enters the building for his workout, he always visits the upstairs bathroom first. He takes his time, and then exits to update me on the status of the toilet. If someone has used it recently, he can't wait to inform me that the toilet won't flush! This has been going on for 2 1/2 years! On occasion, Walnut Bladder will perform a task in the upstairs bathroom that requires the use of the vent fan...and then ten minutes later will back in there doing something that does not. Sometimes he does this in the opposite order. Naturally he will come out and tell me that the toilet flushed a short time ago, but now it does not! The man's bladder fills faster than the toilet tank reservoir! I intend to solve the problem for him with a minor surgical procedure that I saw on the Health Channel, but first I must find a dead elephant that no longer needs it's bladder.
December 30, 2014
A Serene Morning in Sarasota Florida 12-30-14 ...
A Serene Morning in Sarasota Florida 12-30-14
When I awoke this morning at 7:30, the conditions were a foggy but pleasant 74 degrees. A quick check revealed the temperature in Grosse Pointe Michigan to be 20 degrees. Although it has been 5 years since I relocated down here, I could not suppress a smile. After a breakfast repast I summoned my Doberman and together we went out to the backyard to enjoy the by-now 76 degree weather. The fog was just beginning to lift in the outlying fields as we surveyed my lush and now just slightly overgrown landscaping. Nikki the Doberman spotted a monarch butterfly fluttering in the grass not far from where we stood. Cautiously and thoughtfully, especially for a nine month old 81 pound puppy, Nikki crept over to the beautiful butterfly's resting spot. I had my cell phone camera on by now and inched over to them, taking priceless video of their initial encounter. As Nikki began her investigation, the butterfly fluttered vigorously and it was only then that my puppy and I became aware of it's broken wing. Did it suffer the injury during birth? Was it the result of a violent encounter with one of the hungry Blue Jays that call my backyard home during the winter months? I could not be sure but my Doberman somehow sensed her newfound friend's plight and nuzzled her gently, as if to encourage her to take to the air. It was mesmerizing to watch and touched my heart, seeing this powerful and muscular young dog interacting with such a fragile and beautiful creature. I stood transfixed for some time. After a few precious moments, my dog signaled to me that she wished to give her backyard companion some time on her own to rest from their placid encounter. We went back inside. An hour later, we came back out, and Nikki loped directly to the exact same spot in the backyard. Her friend was still there...still fluttering about. Slowly, Nikki lowered her black and tan head to grass-level. She assessed the injured monarch's situation yet again...and with one quick chomp ate it. Back to home page Click here.
When I awoke this morning at 7:30, the conditions were a foggy but pleasant 74 degrees. A quick check revealed the temperature in Grosse Pointe Michigan to be 20 degrees. Although it has been 5 years since I relocated down here, I could not suppress a smile. After a breakfast repast I summoned my Doberman and together we went out to the backyard to enjoy the by-now 76 degree weather. The fog was just beginning to lift in the outlying fields as we surveyed my lush and now just slightly overgrown landscaping. Nikki the Doberman spotted a monarch butterfly fluttering in the grass not far from where we stood. Cautiously and thoughtfully, especially for a nine month old 81 pound puppy, Nikki crept over to the beautiful butterfly's resting spot. I had my cell phone camera on by now and inched over to them, taking priceless video of their initial encounter. As Nikki began her investigation, the butterfly fluttered vigorously and it was only then that my puppy and I became aware of it's broken wing. Did it suffer the injury during birth? Was it the result of a violent encounter with one of the hungry Blue Jays that call my backyard home during the winter months? I could not be sure but my Doberman somehow sensed her newfound friend's plight and nuzzled her gently, as if to encourage her to take to the air. It was mesmerizing to watch and touched my heart, seeing this powerful and muscular young dog interacting with such a fragile and beautiful creature. I stood transfixed for some time. After a few precious moments, my dog signaled to me that she wished to give her backyard companion some time on her own to rest from their placid encounter. We went back inside. An hour later, we came back out, and Nikki loped directly to the exact same spot in the backyard. Her friend was still there...still fluttering about. Slowly, Nikki lowered her black and tan head to grass-level. She assessed the injured monarch's situation yet again...and with one quick chomp ate it. Back to home page Click here.
December 22, 2014
One Direction and other boy bands explained 12-22-14I wat...
One Direction and other boy bands explained 12-22-14
I watched yet another boy band called One Direction perform two songs on Saturday Night Live. There were 5 members. One of them would sing a few lines, and then another would pick up where the first guy left off. They could harmonize a little when it was time. I managed to refrain from screaming, sighing, or throwing my panties at the TV set. A lot of women in the studio audience did not show an equal amount of self restraint. I would like to offer you some insight as to why these heavily tattooed little monkeys are so popular.
One of the requirements seems to be legs that are approximately as big around as my wrist. Stretchy pants help to show off these legs. The next requirement is a distinctive hair style. No Beatle haircuts for these young gents...extra points are assessed if they can comb and gel it until it stands straight up.
But the real key to their wild popularity seems to be the "lyrics" they croon into their mikes. A quick sample: I don't want to perish like a fading horse. Youth is like diamonds in the sun and diamonds are forever."
Will someone please hand me a barf bag!?!? This crap sells millions!?!? Suddenly I feel very old indeed.
I was able to decipher some more of the lyrics on Saturday. One of these cretins sang "This time I'm ready to run." He further elaborated about sneaking away in the middle of the night...undoubtedly to avoid a run-in with his underage paramours father. This must have a great deal of appeal to any teenage girl who has had a disagreement with a parent...in fact it can't miss! The fact that the lad singing it has a few bucks to run away with probably helps the fantasy along. Judging by the lyrics, the wimp had a few false starts in the past...but this time for sure he's ready. To summarize on how best to get the underage girls music or concert dollar: sing about running away, partying the entire night and breaking stuff, or even though we both know it's a one night stand we can pretend it's love.
Now do you understand? You're welcome.
I watched yet another boy band called One Direction perform two songs on Saturday Night Live. There were 5 members. One of them would sing a few lines, and then another would pick up where the first guy left off. They could harmonize a little when it was time. I managed to refrain from screaming, sighing, or throwing my panties at the TV set. A lot of women in the studio audience did not show an equal amount of self restraint. I would like to offer you some insight as to why these heavily tattooed little monkeys are so popular.
One of the requirements seems to be legs that are approximately as big around as my wrist. Stretchy pants help to show off these legs. The next requirement is a distinctive hair style. No Beatle haircuts for these young gents...extra points are assessed if they can comb and gel it until it stands straight up.
But the real key to their wild popularity seems to be the "lyrics" they croon into their mikes. A quick sample: I don't want to perish like a fading horse. Youth is like diamonds in the sun and diamonds are forever."
Will someone please hand me a barf bag!?!? This crap sells millions!?!? Suddenly I feel very old indeed.
I was able to decipher some more of the lyrics on Saturday. One of these cretins sang "This time I'm ready to run." He further elaborated about sneaking away in the middle of the night...undoubtedly to avoid a run-in with his underage paramours father. This must have a great deal of appeal to any teenage girl who has had a disagreement with a parent...in fact it can't miss! The fact that the lad singing it has a few bucks to run away with probably helps the fantasy along. Judging by the lyrics, the wimp had a few false starts in the past...but this time for sure he's ready. To summarize on how best to get the underage girls music or concert dollar: sing about running away, partying the entire night and breaking stuff, or even though we both know it's a one night stand we can pretend it's love.
Now do you understand? You're welcome.
December 20, 2014
Sarasota is warmer than Detroit 12-20-14I have made...
Sarasota is warmer than Detroit 12-20-14
I have made it very clear to my readers how much I enjoy Sarasota Florida. For instance, as I post this the temperature at 1 pm. in the afternoon is 73 degrees and very sunny. In Detroit, my (whoopee) hometown, it is 31 degrees. I am sitting on my screened-in patio...barefoot, wearing shorts. In Detroit, it is THIRTY ONE DEGREES!
I do not wish to sound like a whiner, but I had to run some errands yesterday, and I noticed an oddity about many of the places down here. I passed Hidden Bay Condos, Hidden Forest, Hidden Acres, Hidden Oaks Estates, and of course Hidden Harbor Marina. What did they all have in common? A HUGE sign proclaiming to the world WHERE they were! I have advised my regular readers that I have been taking some cases again as a private investigator. The name of the company I work for is Sarasota Discreet Investigations. But when I'm on a case, I don't wear a name tag that announces it to everybody. There is no magnetic sign on my car either. How can I ever trust an establishment that purports to be in hiding but broadcasts it with a 20 by 40 foot sign!?! Isn't there some type of "Truth in Naming" law. And don't EVEN get me started on the words Jumbo Shrimp. And how about the time I saw a sign on a front window that promised "Women's clothing up to 75% off!" I pulled in immediately...with one of my button cameras on and filming...but every darn lady in there was FULLY dressed! Although I must admit that I was thankful that the patrons of this particular store remained covered, whatever happened to honesty?!?
I have made it very clear to my readers how much I enjoy Sarasota Florida. For instance, as I post this the temperature at 1 pm. in the afternoon is 73 degrees and very sunny. In Detroit, my (whoopee) hometown, it is 31 degrees. I am sitting on my screened-in patio...barefoot, wearing shorts. In Detroit, it is THIRTY ONE DEGREES!
I do not wish to sound like a whiner, but I had to run some errands yesterday, and I noticed an oddity about many of the places down here. I passed Hidden Bay Condos, Hidden Forest, Hidden Acres, Hidden Oaks Estates, and of course Hidden Harbor Marina. What did they all have in common? A HUGE sign proclaiming to the world WHERE they were! I have advised my regular readers that I have been taking some cases again as a private investigator. The name of the company I work for is Sarasota Discreet Investigations. But when I'm on a case, I don't wear a name tag that announces it to everybody. There is no magnetic sign on my car either. How can I ever trust an establishment that purports to be in hiding but broadcasts it with a 20 by 40 foot sign!?! Isn't there some type of "Truth in Naming" law. And don't EVEN get me started on the words Jumbo Shrimp. And how about the time I saw a sign on a front window that promised "Women's clothing up to 75% off!" I pulled in immediately...with one of my button cameras on and filming...but every darn lady in there was FULLY dressed! Although I must admit that I was thankful that the patrons of this particular store remained covered, whatever happened to honesty?!?
December 9, 2014
Joel Osteen Lakewood Church 12-9-14I just read a re...
Joel Osteen Lakewood Church 12-9-14
I just read a report about somebody stealing $600,000 from Joel Osteen's Lakewood Church Sunday collection in March of this year. For the record, I was here is Sarasota Florida the entire month of March, I have dozens (and perhaps hundreds) of witnesses capable of verifying this, and in spite of what my ex-wife will probably accuse me of I had absolutely nothing to do with it. Please bear in mind that my ex-wives have accused me in the past of everything from the JFK assassination to the Nicole Simpson Ronald Goldman killings to the Great Train Robbery. I might bear a little more responsibility for Global Warming that I care to admit but I sold that particular boat long ago. The report said that the heist broke down into about $200,000 in cash and the rest in checks. I have an airtight alibi for the Sunday evening in question. I was nowhere near Texas. I watch Joel's Sunday messages on occasion and freely admit to drawing inspiration from them. Joel reminds me a great deal of the character Pastor Tony in God Stole My Daughter. I would NEVER do anything to harm his cause.
I just read a report about somebody stealing $600,000 from Joel Osteen's Lakewood Church Sunday collection in March of this year. For the record, I was here is Sarasota Florida the entire month of March, I have dozens (and perhaps hundreds) of witnesses capable of verifying this, and in spite of what my ex-wife will probably accuse me of I had absolutely nothing to do with it. Please bear in mind that my ex-wives have accused me in the past of everything from the JFK assassination to the Nicole Simpson Ronald Goldman killings to the Great Train Robbery. I might bear a little more responsibility for Global Warming that I care to admit but I sold that particular boat long ago. The report said that the heist broke down into about $200,000 in cash and the rest in checks. I have an airtight alibi for the Sunday evening in question. I was nowhere near Texas. I watch Joel's Sunday messages on occasion and freely admit to drawing inspiration from them. Joel reminds me a great deal of the character Pastor Tony in God Stole My Daughter. I would NEVER do anything to harm his cause.
December 5, 2014
Starbucks 12-5-14In the interest of full disc...
Starbucks 12-5-14
In the interest of full disclosure, I don't drink coffee. I do understand the original allure of Starbucks however. I can picture a collection of Bohemian types sitting around the first one in Seattle in 1971, deciding which bag of coffee beans to purchase and requesting a fresh brewed sample. Years later, the interiors seem very earthy and refined. People with laptops dot the tabletops and friends chat or ignore each other as they stare at their cellphones. What I simply cannot comprehend is the outdoor seating at some of them. Any architect with an IQ over 70 should realize that many are located too near a main thoroughfare. The original premise seemed quaint enough...basking in the early morning sun as one's bones are being warmed by a hot cup of coffee...passerby on the sidewalk waving hello as they recognize a patron or are themselves recognized by one. But I have seen people out there on an August afternoon in Sarasota! They are guzzling icy something or others, but their lips are chapping and cracking as they squint and sweat. Cars and trucks roar by just feet away, kicking up dust, fast food wrappers and cigarette butts to settle on their tables. I enjoy dining outside, even more so knowing that the outside temp in Michigan is below freezing. I patronize a Sweet Frog's frozen yogurt near my home on occasion. There was plenty of room to locate the "patio" in back or to the side...but did they? Of course not. It's far more exciting to dodge side view mirrors in between spoons full of tart, caramel corn and sweet coconut. This is a disturbing trend, and I fear that streetside hospital rooms will be next.
In the interest of full disclosure, I don't drink coffee. I do understand the original allure of Starbucks however. I can picture a collection of Bohemian types sitting around the first one in Seattle in 1971, deciding which bag of coffee beans to purchase and requesting a fresh brewed sample. Years later, the interiors seem very earthy and refined. People with laptops dot the tabletops and friends chat or ignore each other as they stare at their cellphones. What I simply cannot comprehend is the outdoor seating at some of them. Any architect with an IQ over 70 should realize that many are located too near a main thoroughfare. The original premise seemed quaint enough...basking in the early morning sun as one's bones are being warmed by a hot cup of coffee...passerby on the sidewalk waving hello as they recognize a patron or are themselves recognized by one. But I have seen people out there on an August afternoon in Sarasota! They are guzzling icy something or others, but their lips are chapping and cracking as they squint and sweat. Cars and trucks roar by just feet away, kicking up dust, fast food wrappers and cigarette butts to settle on their tables. I enjoy dining outside, even more so knowing that the outside temp in Michigan is below freezing. I patronize a Sweet Frog's frozen yogurt near my home on occasion. There was plenty of room to locate the "patio" in back or to the side...but did they? Of course not. It's far more exciting to dodge side view mirrors in between spoons full of tart, caramel corn and sweet coconut. This is a disturbing trend, and I fear that streetside hospital rooms will be next.
November 30, 2014
Upside down in Grosse Pointe 11-30-14In real estate...
Upside down in Grosse Pointe 11-30-14
In real estate jargon, upside down means that the owner of a house owes more to the bank than the house is worth. But let's face it, my ol' buddy Max Lexington slash Art Van did not have a mortgage on his mansion at 950 Lake Shore Drive. When Art had it built in the late 90's, the rumored construction cost was about 11 1/2 million bucks. What did HE think it was worth after he moved out and left his wife hangin' in 2005? Hard to say, but a real estate agent told me that there were some feelers out to see if anyone would bite at 18 million or so. No one did.
But even Mr. Delusional knew the ol' castle wasn't worth that, so his former abode spent some of 2013 and most of 2014 on the market for 15.9 million. Given the exodus of Michigan millionaires in the past few years, it would have taken a miracle and lots of prayer from Art's former Cardinal friend for the joint to sell anywhere near that price and everyone in the loop knew it. So the next brilliant idea was to put the monolith up for auction. That should whip up a feeding frenzy, right? Not really. People are much smarter with their money these days. The bidding stopped...and the house sold...at 3.75 million. OUCH. Ouch, ouch ouch how embarrassing, ouch! What percentage is that of the asking price? Let's see, 3.75 divided by 15.9...move the decimal...aha. Here's the answer! It sold at auction for 23.5 percent of the asking price! Yikes! Now that's what I call upside down! After the auction fees, which I am sure weren't cheap, that percentage is even lower. I have several overnight orders for my new novel God Stole My Daughter that need to be filled right now and two for Grosse Pointe Pimp, but we will have some more fun with math in a future post.
In real estate jargon, upside down means that the owner of a house owes more to the bank than the house is worth. But let's face it, my ol' buddy Max Lexington slash Art Van did not have a mortgage on his mansion at 950 Lake Shore Drive. When Art had it built in the late 90's, the rumored construction cost was about 11 1/2 million bucks. What did HE think it was worth after he moved out and left his wife hangin' in 2005? Hard to say, but a real estate agent told me that there were some feelers out to see if anyone would bite at 18 million or so. No one did.
But even Mr. Delusional knew the ol' castle wasn't worth that, so his former abode spent some of 2013 and most of 2014 on the market for 15.9 million. Given the exodus of Michigan millionaires in the past few years, it would have taken a miracle and lots of prayer from Art's former Cardinal friend for the joint to sell anywhere near that price and everyone in the loop knew it. So the next brilliant idea was to put the monolith up for auction. That should whip up a feeding frenzy, right? Not really. People are much smarter with their money these days. The bidding stopped...and the house sold...at 3.75 million. OUCH. Ouch, ouch ouch how embarrassing, ouch! What percentage is that of the asking price? Let's see, 3.75 divided by 15.9...move the decimal...aha. Here's the answer! It sold at auction for 23.5 percent of the asking price! Yikes! Now that's what I call upside down! After the auction fees, which I am sure weren't cheap, that percentage is even lower. I have several overnight orders for my new novel God Stole My Daughter that need to be filled right now and two for Grosse Pointe Pimp, but we will have some more fun with math in a future post.
November 22, 2014
Bill Cosby got me this year! 11-23-14I know wh...
Bill Cosby got me this year! 11-23-14
I know what you are thinking. What could a 77 year old pervert do to take advantage of a 265 pound bodybuilder? Am I claiming the above in an attempt to set the stage for a future lawsuit? How about if I just state my case and allow the court of public opinion to decide?
Early this year, I had set my DVR to record Mr. Cosby's performance on the Comedy Channel. I never watched the show in which he played Dr. Huxtable, but I remember something about listening to Fat Albert on a record as a teenager. Thus I had to assume that he earned the hour he was allotted on the Comedy Channel. I watched the entire thing (sans commercials, of course.) He was terrible! His performance paled in comparison to even the most nouveau comics I have watched in the past and since. He not only sat down during the "performance", but talked so slowly my attention wandered after every sentence. His pregnant pauses (during which he looked about in what he must have perceived to be a sly manner) were so long that a pregnancy could actually take place! The "schtick" if one could call it that was very current...for 1969! A 77 year old man is STILL talking about transporting his young children to school in a limo--and how they were so stigmatized they begged to be dropped off a block away. I can only speculate as to what a knee slapper this story was back then...but one would think that someone close to Bill would be honest enough to tell him that 45 years later, it no longer was...and especially before he tortured a national audience with it. One of my Sarasota clients made the mistake of paying actual money for a ticket to Bill Cosby's worn out act, and expressed his utmost regret the next day.
Two old ladies are in a restaurant. One says "The food is terrible here." The other says "Yes, and such small portions too!"
Bill used the entire hour to tell three stories that were neither funny nor current. One hour...three stupid stories. Foolishly, I watched the entire hour hoping it would improve. It never did. Bill stole an hour of my life from me that I can never have back. I feel lied to and violated. Do I have a case?
I know what you are thinking. What could a 77 year old pervert do to take advantage of a 265 pound bodybuilder? Am I claiming the above in an attempt to set the stage for a future lawsuit? How about if I just state my case and allow the court of public opinion to decide?
Early this year, I had set my DVR to record Mr. Cosby's performance on the Comedy Channel. I never watched the show in which he played Dr. Huxtable, but I remember something about listening to Fat Albert on a record as a teenager. Thus I had to assume that he earned the hour he was allotted on the Comedy Channel. I watched the entire thing (sans commercials, of course.) He was terrible! His performance paled in comparison to even the most nouveau comics I have watched in the past and since. He not only sat down during the "performance", but talked so slowly my attention wandered after every sentence. His pregnant pauses (during which he looked about in what he must have perceived to be a sly manner) were so long that a pregnancy could actually take place! The "schtick" if one could call it that was very current...for 1969! A 77 year old man is STILL talking about transporting his young children to school in a limo--and how they were so stigmatized they begged to be dropped off a block away. I can only speculate as to what a knee slapper this story was back then...but one would think that someone close to Bill would be honest enough to tell him that 45 years later, it no longer was...and especially before he tortured a national audience with it. One of my Sarasota clients made the mistake of paying actual money for a ticket to Bill Cosby's worn out act, and expressed his utmost regret the next day.
Two old ladies are in a restaurant. One says "The food is terrible here." The other says "Yes, and such small portions too!"
Bill used the entire hour to tell three stories that were neither funny nor current. One hour...three stupid stories. Foolishly, I watched the entire hour hoping it would improve. It never did. Bill stole an hour of my life from me that I can never have back. I feel lied to and violated. Do I have a case?
