As I write this, a Boomer couple is extracting their adult male child from their basement. They left a trail of potato chips and pizza slices on the stairs to the outdoors. An extra large wheeled humane trapdoor trap for humans is hidden beneath an X-box and a switch. As soon as they have him in the trap, they will sedate him with a blow dart. The trap will be towed to the nearest Youth Hostel and left in front. Champagne will be popping when that trap is stopping!
This column brings to mind the immortal words of "Home Improvement" expert Bob Vila: "If you're going to spend a lot of money and end up doing it yourself, you might as well hire a contractor!"
Or maybe he was referring to lap dances at a gentleman's club. I really don't recall the context...
I'm not sure how I feel about SBE technology, but I'm very sure how I feel about house parts. Ask any "housing expert" (we call ours Bubba), and they'll tell you, "house parts is how we drive Cadillacs."
Now that I'm paying my money directly to the author, I'm also not sure how I feel about financing his Nazi pocket doors, but I'm willing to let him slide if he'll keep informing America about the dangers of Climate Change and basement tik-tokkers.
Come to Florida. A 1 BR/1 BA condo on the water (meaning soon to be IN the water) for which you will pay at least $900K plus additional monthly mortgage-level fees of thousands $$$, plus special assessments levied by crazy association boards with no actual expertise in anything remotely related to condos, also totaling thousands $$$, and you will go back to lovely, frigid West Chester in the blink of an alligator’s eyes.
I see that the Bobby Fuller Four Distinguished Economists also have the “Magic Touch”. Why not just have them solve the Housing Crisis by applying the Magic Touch?
Dave, the average price of a three-bedroom home at present ranges from about $125,00 to infinity and beyond and, depending on the area, generally requires you to sign over your first born (part of that "starter" thing) or your vinyl collection to the guy with the shifty look at your financial institution, known as a loan officer. With advances in technology, especially brain and other functional implants, I suggest allowing tiny houses to become even tinier. For example, I understand there are still quite a few old public telephone booths and those iconic red British telephone boxes just sitting around in scrap yards. Granted you'd have to sleep like a bat and toileting might be a challenge but then as I recall, they often served as toilets. Or you could get a play house --- maybe one of those bouncy castles --- for the basement and be done with it.
As a gen Zer, I cannot afford a house because all of my income is going to a paid Dave Barry subscription to help him fix his home. Any leftover money is going to preorder Class Clown. My financial plan for the future, assuming I again fail to match the Powerball, is that I'm hoping, considering that Dave Barry is very old geezer, that I will be remembered in his will, especially since I just promoted his upcoming autobiography for free. It is more likely than actually saving up enough money to buy a house at today's prices, which at my current salary, I estimate will happen sometime after president Cryogenic Trump is reelected for his tenth term.
Edit: this comment was liked by Dave Barry. Clearly my plan is working.
Dave, I currently live in a 1200 sq ft house in Reston Va. The house is as old as I am and would probably sell for half a million dollars, with a mortgage payment of around 3000/month. So to qualify for a loan for this 2 bedroom one bath house you would need an income of around 100000/year.
Of course I’m not selling, since I have a 2.7% interest rate and a monthly payment that’s actually affordable. But I don’t see why the kids can’t buy houses in a place like Bradford Ohio which is inexpensive, because there are no jobs, but heck, they can get government jobs that allow them to work remotely! Which would be good for Ohio, so I’m sure the government in Ohio is fighting to get those remote jobs.
I'm glad my $5 per month subscription fee is helping to dig up your front yard. My I sit on the sidewalk in a beach chair and watch? It will be more fun than watching it snow yet again in Connecticut.
Even more efficient would be stack the basement units together, as in a high rise. Since basements usually are window-less, we would need to perhaps paint some on the exterior. Aesthetic enhancements and all.
I know a young couple that, through no fault of their own, are trying to buy a house right now. They didn't do a darn thing to anyone, and yet, they're going through the trails and tribulations (who writes "trails and tribulations"? I must be getting very old), of buying a house. We haven't bought one in years, so listening to what they're finding in their area is certainly eye (and wallet) opening.
About septic tanks, but my first thought was, "oh man! I hope those things don't pop out of the ground the way empty pools in Florida do sometimes." I mean, think of it! One of those things pops out of the ground - what a mess that would be! It would be immediately elected to city council.
Yes! Like those settlers you were talking about. I can only assume they referred to Trails and Tribulations, Arizona, which is down the street from Truth or Consequences.
....either that or I misspelled "Trials". But I don't think "Trials and Tribulations" is a place in Arizona.
As a “Boomer”, I vividly remember the term “drain field”. I grew up in a one-
bathroom, three bedroom house as one of a family of six. Our backyard looked like a sample piece of Amsterdam’s traffic system. I could easily won the broad jump competition at my grade school’s annual Field Day. In spite of the term, there was no connection between their field and ours. Repairs to our drain field field featured my father, my uncle, and beer. Lots of beer. My job was Beer Fetcher. I’m the only member of my family who looks back on this memory with fondness.
Dave, you’re old enough to write a Substack about buying and selling houses going back to the Nixon administration. There has always been something to cry about. At my Boomer age of mid-70’s my solution may soon be to relocate to a motel chain with a free breakfast buffet and locations around the US to avoid the effects of Climate Changes as they occur.
This is an excellent idea. I could sell my money pit of a house for $950,000 (the average going rate for a 3-br hovel with a basement that floods whenever it's cloudy), and spend $45,000 a year on itinerant Residence Inn stays for the next 21 years, where they would clean the bathroom and change the sheets and feed me breakfast.
In addition to the beer-fetching, I fondly recall listening to the swearing, which grew grew more colorful as the day progressed. I had to delay actually using their expressive descriptive terms, as I didn’t particularly like the taste of soap.
As I write this, a Boomer couple is extracting their adult male child from their basement. They left a trail of potato chips and pizza slices on the stairs to the outdoors. An extra large wheeled humane trapdoor trap for humans is hidden beneath an X-box and a switch. As soon as they have him in the trap, they will sedate him with a blow dart. The trap will be towed to the nearest Youth Hostel and left in front. Champagne will be popping when that trap is stopping!
This column brings to mind the immortal words of "Home Improvement" expert Bob Vila: "If you're going to spend a lot of money and end up doing it yourself, you might as well hire a contractor!"
Or maybe he was referring to lap dances at a gentleman's club. I really don't recall the context...
You never know about Bob.
I stopped what I was doing—vacuuming house parts—to read this. The laughter will fuel the rest of my day, as will the octopus and jumping shark.
Wait. Does that mean Dave Berry has finally jumped the shark? 🤔 🦈
Possibly…but I love everything he writes so there’s no going too far for him. 😂
I'm not sure how I feel about SBE technology, but I'm very sure how I feel about house parts. Ask any "housing expert" (we call ours Bubba), and they'll tell you, "house parts is how we drive Cadillacs."
Now that I'm paying my money directly to the author, I'm also not sure how I feel about financing his Nazi pocket doors, but I'm willing to let him slide if he'll keep informing America about the dangers of Climate Change and basement tik-tokkers.
Don't forget Basement Climate Change! 😄
The danger list is sooo long.
A 2 bedroom, 1 bath house with a postage size lot in West Chester PA recently sold for $900,000. I thought you should know this.
Come to Florida. A 1 BR/1 BA condo on the water (meaning soon to be IN the water) for which you will pay at least $900K plus additional monthly mortgage-level fees of thousands $$$, plus special assessments levied by crazy association boards with no actual expertise in anything remotely related to condos, also totaling thousands $$$, and you will go back to lovely, frigid West Chester in the blink of an alligator’s eyes.
I also hate pocket doors. They ruin a good manicure because you inevitably break a nail trying to open the f*cking door.
I see that the Bobby Fuller Four Distinguished Economists also have the “Magic Touch”. Why not just have them solve the Housing Crisis by applying the Magic Touch?
Dave, the average price of a three-bedroom home at present ranges from about $125,00 to infinity and beyond and, depending on the area, generally requires you to sign over your first born (part of that "starter" thing) or your vinyl collection to the guy with the shifty look at your financial institution, known as a loan officer. With advances in technology, especially brain and other functional implants, I suggest allowing tiny houses to become even tinier. For example, I understand there are still quite a few old public telephone booths and those iconic red British telephone boxes just sitting around in scrap yards. Granted you'd have to sleep like a bat and toileting might be a challenge but then as I recall, they often served as toilets. Or you could get a play house --- maybe one of those bouncy castles --- for the basement and be done with it.
As a gen Zer, I cannot afford a house because all of my income is going to a paid Dave Barry subscription to help him fix his home. Any leftover money is going to preorder Class Clown. My financial plan for the future, assuming I again fail to match the Powerball, is that I'm hoping, considering that Dave Barry is very old geezer, that I will be remembered in his will, especially since I just promoted his upcoming autobiography for free. It is more likely than actually saving up enough money to buy a house at today's prices, which at my current salary, I estimate will happen sometime after president Cryogenic Trump is reelected for his tenth term.
Edit: this comment was liked by Dave Barry. Clearly my plan is working.
Dave, I currently live in a 1200 sq ft house in Reston Va. The house is as old as I am and would probably sell for half a million dollars, with a mortgage payment of around 3000/month. So to qualify for a loan for this 2 bedroom one bath house you would need an income of around 100000/year.
Of course I’m not selling, since I have a 2.7% interest rate and a monthly payment that’s actually affordable. But I don’t see why the kids can’t buy houses in a place like Bradford Ohio which is inexpensive, because there are no jobs, but heck, they can get government jobs that allow them to work remotely! Which would be good for Ohio, so I’m sure the government in Ohio is fighting to get those remote jobs.
I'm glad my $5 per month subscription fee is helping to dig up your front yard. My I sit on the sidewalk in a beach chair and watch? It will be more fun than watching it snow yet again in Connecticut.
MerryCatholic.substack.com
Even more efficient would be stack the basement units together, as in a high rise. Since basements usually are window-less, we would need to perhaps paint some on the exterior. Aesthetic enhancements and all.
Naw, stack them underground! The basement TikTokkers would be right at home! Level Minus 50, coming up!
I know a young couple that, through no fault of their own, are trying to buy a house right now. They didn't do a darn thing to anyone, and yet, they're going through the trails and tribulations (who writes "trails and tribulations"? I must be getting very old), of buying a house. We haven't bought one in years, so listening to what they're finding in their area is certainly eye (and wallet) opening.
About septic tanks, but my first thought was, "oh man! I hope those things don't pop out of the ground the way empty pools in Florida do sometimes." I mean, think of it! One of those things pops out of the ground - what a mess that would be! It would be immediately elected to city council.
"Trails?"
Yes! Like those settlers you were talking about. I can only assume they referred to Trails and Tribulations, Arizona, which is down the street from Truth or Consequences.
....either that or I misspelled "Trials". But I don't think "Trials and Tribulations" is a place in Arizona.
As a “Boomer”, I vividly remember the term “drain field”. I grew up in a one-
bathroom, three bedroom house as one of a family of six. Our backyard looked like a sample piece of Amsterdam’s traffic system. I could easily won the broad jump competition at my grade school’s annual Field Day. In spite of the term, there was no connection between their field and ours. Repairs to our drain field field featured my father, my uncle, and beer. Lots of beer. My job was Beer Fetcher. I’m the only member of my family who looks back on this memory with fondness.
Dave, you’re old enough to write a Substack about buying and selling houses going back to the Nixon administration. There has always been something to cry about. At my Boomer age of mid-70’s my solution may soon be to relocate to a motel chain with a free breakfast buffet and locations around the US to avoid the effects of Climate Changes as they occur.
This is an excellent idea. I could sell my money pit of a house for $950,000 (the average going rate for a 3-br hovel with a basement that floods whenever it's cloudy), and spend $45,000 a year on itinerant Residence Inn stays for the next 21 years, where they would clean the bathroom and change the sheets and feed me breakfast.
In addition to the beer-fetching, I fondly recall listening to the swearing, which grew grew more colorful as the day progressed. I had to delay actually using their expressive descriptive terms, as I didn’t particularly like the taste of soap.