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From Daily Kos:

Now is the time for Democrats to cripple the GOP and pre-sweep 2012. Opportunities like this come rarely. The Republican budget plan to kill Medicare is wildly unpopular. Americans overwhelmingly favor raising taxes on the super rich conservative creeps who fund the most reactionary wing, the nuttiest of the wingnuts, in the Republican Party. Wall Street, the Bankstas, the US Chamber of Commerce, progressives, democrats, and even a huge chunk of Republicans all agree the debt ceiling must be raised.

GOP governors are about as popular as rabies — all the Koch’s whores and all the Koch’s men cannot put the lipstick on the pig again. The leading wingnut primary contenders are a guy social conservatives consider a flip-flopping cult member and an unlectable flaked out harpy. A yawning chasm has opened up between the Teaparty wing and the GOP funding arm. It’s begging to be widened, the wedge to do has been dropped precisely into place by fate, it is bearing down with an immediate, unstoppable force. And the empircal facts are lined up on our side like rows of marble statues.

This is the time when Democrats, metaphorically, politically, stomp these assholes into the dirt and light the bloody mush on fire.

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Do I think the Democrats (i.e. Obama) will grow a spine and do this? Not a chance. I fully expect the proud Democratic tradition of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory will continue unabated.

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Oh yeah, it’s because so many Democrats are in the same corporate pockets as the Republicans…

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I’m sorry.  I’m the one responsible for the torrential thunderstorms moving through Denver tonight.  I washed Anderson this morning and apparently the weather gods were displeased at his shininess.

The self-service car washes here are back-assward from the ones in Arizona. In Arizona you wash your car first, and then move out of the wash bay to a covered area where you do your drying, vacuuming and detailing. But in Denver all I’ve seen are car washes where you do your interior cleaning and vacuuming first, and then pull your car into the bay to wash it. Well and good, but where are you supposed to dry your car?  Are you supposed to pull it out into the sun to dry it, or is it okay to stay in the wash bay to do it? It wasn’t busy at all this morning, so I just stayed in the bay and dried Anderson there. Maybe one of my Colorado readers can enlighten me on what is accepted protocol here…

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We’ve been in Denver one week.  As I noted in a previous post, I’d forgotten just how stressful this kind of move can be.  Fortunately, at least as far as central Denver and Aurora are concerned, we’re starting to learn our way around, and that’s reducing he stress level considerably. For most tasks, I don’t even need to resort to GPS navigation. Illif turns into Evans as you go west and connects with the I-25.  Havana turns into Hampden as you go south and does the same. Parker turns into Leetsdale as you go northwest and terminates at Colorado Blvd. to the north and turns into Route 83 (taking you out of Denver) to the south. Yale is south of Illif; Colfax, 6th, and Mississippi are north. Quebec and Monaco are west of Havana, and Chambers is to the east. Colorado Blvd. is to be avoided at all costs if you’re in any kind of hurry to get anywhere.

I spent a couple hours at the storage unit this morning.  I realized the other day that there was all sorts of stuff stacked on top of the boxes that contain my 600+ vinyl record albums and with temps heading into the 90s later this week I needed to get them out from under that weight lest I end up with 600+ unplayable, oval LPs.

I think we’re going to plan on settling in Aurora.  It’s central to any of the five schools that Ben may be assigned to, and getting around from this location seems to be pretty easy.  There are a plethora of apartment possibilities available, all of which match the list of amenities that we enjoyed at my place in Phoenix.

Now I just have to find a job. Preferably not healthcare related. Been there, done that. Over it.

I met with two headhunters yesterday.  I’m meeting with a third tomorrow, and while I was busy rearranging the storage unit this morning, I got a call from a fourth who is submitting me on for a gig at a major telecom company.  The opportunity at NREL that I’d interviewed for went to another candidate from a different agency, and after learning yesterday that most of the available opportunities right now are healthcare related and offering significantly less money than I need sent me into a deep depression.  But it’s a new day and things will get better.

Fortunately my finances are in good enough shape that I do not have to jump on the first offer that comes my way.  On the other hand, it would be nice to start working so I don’t have to deplete the money that I’ve put away.

Of one thing I am certain: there is a company in Denver looking for someone exactly like me. It’s just a matter of making the connection.

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I had forgotten how stressful and disorienting a move to a new city in a different state can be.  The last time I moved somewhere totally new to me was 1986, when I relocated to San Francisco.  After six months I was still having such a hard time adjusting to life there that I was almost ready to pack it up and return to Phoenix.  There was no way I was going to do that, but I finally had to post an affirmation on my refrigerator that read, “San Francisco is my home. I love the City and The City loves me back.”  It must have worked, because I stayed sixteen years, and to this day—while I could never return permanently—I still consider San Francisco Home, as home with a capital H.

The Good

• Ben is with me.  He is keeping me sane and grounded during this transition.  His patience is amazing.

• Denver is beautiful.  It still amazes me to look to the west and see snow on the mountains. We haven’t had a chance to do much exploring yet, but I cannot wait to start. It was 85 degrees today and we had light showers.  It was 102 and sunny in Phoenix. Do the math.
• We got a local address where mail can be forwarded.  The Post Office had some pretty strict residency requirements for getting a box, so we went with one at a UPS store (at an exorbitant rate, I might add) instead.
• I got a call from a new recruiter today, and I’m meeting with her in person next week.
• I had my first Pinkberry last night.  I’m not a huge fan of frozen desserts, but I have to admit it was pretty damn good.

The Bad

• The extended stay hotel we’re staying at has definitely seen better days.  The rooms are small, the kitchenettes are a joke, and while it seems clean enough it just has that skeevy feel about it that does not inspire a great deal of confidence.  I’ve stayed at Motel 6s that were classier.  We definitely do NOT leave our Macs in the room unattended.  We’re only committed to a week at a time so it’s not like we’re trapped there or anything; we’re still debating whether or not we want to find a different place and pay more.

• The traffic in Denver is horrible just about any time of day.  It’s easily as crazy as what I remember of the Bay Area, and although I’ve yet to see any of the abject stupidity that marked Arizona drivers, on the whole they don’t seem to be an especially courteous lot either. There also is no logic whatsoever behind left turn signals. Sometimes they’re before the traffic direction, sometimes after, and other times during.
• I got a call from one of the headhunters that I’d been working with regarding a job while we were driving up here. Unfortunately the top rate they were willing to pay was way below the minimum I need to live (never mind the amount I was making at my last job), and I’d have to pay for my own health insurance. No thanks, I’m not that desperate yet.  I’ve only been out of work less than a week.

The Ugly

• I swear I left my brain in the apartment in Phoenix.  After so carefully putting everything I thought I might need until we got permanently settled into separate boxes that would not go into storage, I stupidly packed away into storage both my Social Security card and my birth certificate.  It’s been so long since I’ve had to look for a job I completely forgot that I would at the least need the Social Security card to get employed. Yesterday afternoon, after having the movers unload the truck and stack everything so meticulously in our storage unit, we had to tear back into their work in order to at least find my birth certificate so I could order a replacement Social Security card.  And wouldn’t you know it, when I went to the SS office today, they didn’t even need it.  I’ll have a new card in two weeks, and in the meantime they provided me with some official paperwork telling prospective employers that the card is being replaced.
• Even with navigation on my cell phone, I am still getting lost, going in the wrong direction, and having to make some moves in traffic that I am amazed have not resulted in a vehicular mishap.  In short, I’m driving like an out-of-state asshole because I haven’t got a clue where I’m going half the time.
• The internet at the hotel sucks.  I mean seriously sucks.  It’s worse than being on dialup. And if that’s not bad enough, for some reason my Verizon broadband card is acting all wonky as well.  I get five bars (better than I ever got in my office at work), but the connection speed is only marginally faster than the wireless at the hotel. I do NOT understand it.  We’re heading to the Verizon store tomorrow to have it checked out and if it comes back with a clean bill of health we’re going to be spending a lot of our free time at Starbucks or Peets over the next few weeks.
• Ben is an official student at DU today and bought Office 2011 Mac (something we’ve been putting off getting) at the university bookstore.  He was going to purchase the Home and Student edition which provided three licenses, but the girl at the counter said, “Oh, you don’t need that, you need 2011 Standard.”  Ben asked about the number of licenses included with it, and she told him it was two. So instead of paying $139 for the Home and Student, he picked up the Standard version for $89 and thought he’d gotten a great deal.  That was, until we got back to the room and after successfully installing it on his Mac tried to load it on mine.  “Invalid Registration Number.” Fuck. Me.  Since it’s already been opened and activated we can’t return it, so now we have to shell out another $89 for a second copy of Standard—that we didn’t even need to begin with because neither of us uses Outlook!

But even with all the negativity the past couple days, almost by magic, while we were shopping at Target today, I ran across this and took it as a message from the Universe.  Things will get better.  These are just growing pains. I just hate this feeling of being unsettled and having to live out of boxes…

UPDATE: I am a dork.  I must’ve been fat-fingering the Office serial number.  Ben tried putting it in tonight and it worked just fine. D’oh!

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…for this move to be over!

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I apologize if that last post was a little snarky, but longtime readers of this blog know that’s not out of character for this author.

Anyhow, on a more positive note, Ben and I have two more days before everything is packed up and we hit the road.  While my experience with previous moves tell me to calm down, I still can’t help looking around the apartment and wondering how all this stuff is going to fit into a 16-foot truck.  (I’ve done it before, so I know it’s possible, but I’m still nervous.)

Our To-Do list remains long, although the most pressing item—breaking down the aquarium and transferring all the fish to my sister—was finished yesterday.  If we were moving directly into another apartment and not into a hotel, I would’ve moved the fish with us (been there, done that), but that wasn’t in the cards this time.  I will miss the Clown Loaches; they’ve always been my favorites and have tripled their size since I got them, but I know they’ve gone to a good (and much larger) home and will be fine.

The goal today is to return the cable equipment to Cox and get all the remaining loose items boxed up. If we get that done, we might actually have a little bit of a breather tomorrow before everything happens on Monday.

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Every day I drive 16th Street to and from work. About two years ago, the City of Phoenix tore up and resurfaced the one-mile stretch between Bethany Home Road and Camelback.  I never thought that bit was in particularly bad condition, but whatever. Who am I to question their wisdom? The mile south of Camelback to Indian School Road, however, was horrific.  I had assumed at the time that they’d redo that part as well.

Wrong.

And of course, over the next two years the surface has gotten much worse.  Patches, potholes, cracks…the list is endless.

Six months ago I was joking with Ben that they’d probably get around to resurfacing that part of 16th Street just as we were leaving town.

And that’s exactly what’s happening.

Seriously.

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Anthony Weiner’s penis?  Seriously?

The talking bobbleheads are all atwitter (no pun intended) about the fact that a married, elected Democratic official sent a photo of his penis to one or more women. Really?

While it is rather unusual for a Democrat to get caught up in a situation like this, let’s all remember the incredible number of sex scandals Republicans have been involved in over the past decade.   Larry Tap-Tap-Tap Craig and David Diaper-Boy Vitter are the top two who come to mind, but there are many, many others. And while they were not elected officials, let us not forget two other luminaries of the right, Ted Meth-and-Rent-Boy Haggard and George Lift-His-Luggage Rekers.

Where was the outrage from the talking heads when these men were caught with their pants down?

Seriously America, it’s time to get off your faux moral high horse and GROW THE FUCK UP.  As Lizz Winstead tweeted:

Exactly, Lizz.  Exactly.

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Ben says goodbye to Ugly Betty.

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When You’re Straight…

You get your name in the paper for getting married.
You get looks of admiration when you hold your partner’s hand.
You get a tax break for being married.
You get to keep your kids no matter how bad a parent you are.
You get to stay in the military if you engage in non-consensual sex.
You get AIDS, and you’re an “innocent victim.”
You have a life.
You stand up for your rights and it makes you a “participatory citizen.”

BUT…

When You’re Lesbian or Gay…

You get your name in the paper for committing sodomy.
You get spat upon and jeered at when you hold your partner’s hand.
You can’t get married.
You get your kids taken away from you no matter how good a parent you are.
You get kicked out of the military if you engage in consensual sex.
You get AIDS, and you obviously “deserve it.”
You have a “lifestyle.” not a Life
You stand up for your rights and it makes you a “militant homosexual.”

It’s the hyprocrisy, stupid!

STOP THE HATRED.

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Can you see me smiling?

If the original factory warranty has expired on your car and you don’t have an extended warranty, run—do not walk—to your insurance company and get mechanical breakdown coverage if it’s offered.

Seriously.

It turns out it wasn’t a simple repair on the car.  It wasn’t a broken linkage and it wasn’t a blown slave cylinder. It was the entire effing clutch.  But thanks to Geico and a little foresight on my part, what would have been a $1300 expense cost me only $250. Granted, it’s money I still didn’t need to spend, but two fifty is a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

Inspection also uncovered a small leak in a power steering hose and that the front bushings need replacement.  Both are also covered under the policy (albeit with a $250 deductible for each) and while they shouldn’t be ignored, neither one was something that had to be repaired before moving to Denver.  Of course the shop also came up with another list of routine maintenance items that total around $1500, but those can be done piecemeal as funds allow.

Interestingly (or not) enough, Anderson is actually driving much better.  The amount of resistance I’m feeling in the pedal is about what it was when I first noticed the problem the other day, but it’s definitely working now, and shifting is so much smoother than previously.  In fact, the amount of force required to depress the pedal previously was not normal.  Go figure.

The shop told me there was .9mm left on the clutch plate; 1.0mm being the spec for replacement.  So yeah, I was overdue.

Now I know that with my particular driving style a MINI Cooper clutch will last approximately 60,000 miles.

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When Ben and I were pulling out of the carport to go to lunch yesterday, I noticed that something was “off” with Anderson’s clutch. At first I didn’t realize what it was, but as we drove out of the apartment complex, I realized there was no resistance as I pushed the pedal down. It was very odd. And while I could still shift gears, it required more force than usual.

I immediately pulled back into the complex and returned to my carport. Low clutch fluid? I thought the MINI had a hydraulic clutch, but I didn’t remember ever seeing a reservoir mentioned in the car’s documentation or seeing one anywhere in the engine compartment. Just to be sure, I popped the hood and looked around. Nope. Only the brake reservoir, and the fluid level in that was fine. (It turns out it’s a shared reservoir system.)

I waited as Ben went back inside to get his keys since he’d be the one driving us to lunch, and all sorts of horrible things started running through my head.  While it was hopefully something as simple as a broken linkage (or perhaps a leaking slave cylinder), what if it was something much, much worse? Anderson’s factory warranty ran out about 5,000 miles ago and visions of dumping all the money I’d put aside for the move to Denver into a very expensive car repair kept flashing before my eyes.  So much for it being a happy birthday.  Of course, on top of everything it was a holiday weekend, so I couldn’t even call the shop to make an appointment to bring it in.

When we got home I went online, and started searching for “MINI clutch pedal no resistance.” It didn’t help my anxiety level one bit. There were two schools of thought: one said bad slave cylinder (apparently they’re all plastic) or broken linkage (both relatively inexpensive to repair) and the other said complete clutch replacement (white knuckle panic attack).

I pulled up my auto insurance policy to verify that I at least had towing covered, so that wouldn’t be an out-of-pocket expense, and—praise be to the Flying Spaghetti Monster—discovered I had completely forgotten I was also carrying “mechanical breakdown” coverage.  I had added it to the policy a little over a year ago when I realized that Anderson’s factory warranty would be running out in short order and there was no way I was going to pay the outrageous amount quoted for an extended warranty.

I spoke with the insurance company today and I think can relax a bit. Supposedly no matter how bad it is, the most I will have to come up with is the $250 deductible. They said all I had to do was inform the shop I had the coverage, provide them with my insurance policy number and the direct phone line to claims and they’d take care of the rest.

So first thing tomorrow I’m calling for a tow and taking poor ol’ Anderson in to be looked over.

And in the overall scheme of things, it’s better that it happened now and not in two weeks, or—gods forbid—on the way to Denver.

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Nothing planned, other than the weekly grocery shopping and a bit more packing.  I hope to get Dad’s photo albums scanned so I can return them before we leave for Denver.

Ben and I agreed that because of the move, this year there will be no gifts, although he is insisting on taking me to lunch or dinner…if I can decide where I’d like to go.

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I’ve been wanting to get a USB hub to use with my Mac while I’m at work.  It’s not something I absolutely needed, but between my cell modem, external hard drive, various thumb drives, and printer, I often ran out of available ports. About six weeks ago while trawling the interwebs I ran across this and had to get one. I got my order in the day before Apple sicced its lawyers on the manufacturer and since I never received a confirmation email I was beginning to wonder if I was ever going to receive it. So imagine my surprise when it showed up in my mailbox last Friday.

It’s understandable while Apple went after the company. It looks (right down to the packaging) like something Apple would make—if they made stuff like this.  But despite the superficial resemblance to a genuine Apple product, once I got it out of the box it was obvious this was not made by Cupertino.

The fit and finish was a bit off. The small USB cable that came with it had bits of excess plastic still attached, and the light-up logo (while cute) was not evenly illuminated (even though it appears that way in photos) as you’d expect from a genuine Apple product.  On the whole, kind of cheesy.  But then, what do you expect from a company that produced not one, but two Steve Jobs action figures?

I was even more disappointed when I actually plugged it in and attempted to use my peripherals. Maybe it’s a problem endemic to non-externally powered USB hubs, but my modem wouldn’t work. It would show up on the Mac, but would stay stuck at “initializing.” My external hard drive wasn’t recognized. Hell, even the printer kept telling me it was offline. And it wasn’t like I tried to plug everything into it at once; this behavior was exhibited when only a single item was attached to it.

To its credit, It did work fine with thumb drives, however, as well as powering and syncing my iPhone, so I guess it wasn’t a total loss. And I’m sure I could easily double what I spent for it by putting it up on eBay…

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While it is true that I’ve been wanting to refresh this blog for several months, it’s not entirely true that it was done just because we’re moving to Colorado.  It’s because I did something very stupid (proving I am not immune).  I sent off emails to a couple headhunters I’d been working with in Denver that had a link to this blog embedded in the signature line.

Oh shit.

While I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve posted here over the years, much of it was definitely NSFW and considering the amount of ranting I’ve done about work lately it probably wouldn’t make the best impression on someone trying to present me as a potential employee to one of their clients.

That led to the knee-jerk reaction of blasting away all my previous posts.

But as we all know, anything posted on the internet lives forever.  And anyone with the slightest bit of curiosity and know-how can find it. Some rather snarky comments I left on a discussion board nearly a decade ago about people stealing images for use in their eBay postings from a long-gone hi-fi website I used to run are still available just by Googling my name. Scary.

This made me realize that—for better or worse—Voenix Rising has become my brand and merely deleting a few years worth of blog posts is not going erase my presence from cyberspace. Not even close to it.

And you know, that’s okay.

If someone doesn’t want to represent me to a prospective employer because of my sexual orientation, political views, or the fact that I (like every other working person on the planet) occasionally bitch about my job, it’s better to know it up front.  Because for every headhunter out there who takes issue with these things, there will be another who will not.

I am reminded of an interview I had about a dozen years ago with a placement firm in Palo Alto for a position the company had been having trouble filling.  The headhunter really liked me and thought with my experience I’d be a great fit, but she had an issue with my pierced ear.  She said that the company she wanted to send me to was extremely conservative and I would be advised to remove the stud before the interview.  I looked at her and said, “Seriously? This is 1997, the Bay Area and you’re asking me to take out an earring? If they’re that uptight, why would I want to work there?”

Honesty—something decidedly lacking in public discourse these days—is always best.

And the blog really did need to be cleaned out…

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https://youtube.com/watch?v=i5FWusjctuc

I’ve thought about growing mine back out, but I fear it would be more ironic than iconic…

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In honor of our impending move to Denver, I thought it might be a good time to wipe everything away and start fresh.

I may also be taking the blog in a different…direction.  Stay tuned.

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When I read about Sarah Palin’s response to the Tucson shootings this morning, I was at first infuriated.  Then I realized that Sarah Palin was simply being Sarah Palin, doing what right wing media whores always do: twisting logic into a pretzel and playing the victim. Quelle suprise. The sun rises in the east. Dogs bark. The sky is blue.

I almost had to stifle a yawn after that.

And then while I was showering, an aspect of a nearly-forgotten personal philosophy came to me: Sarah Palin (and Beck and Limbaugh and the rest of the right wing noise machine) is nothing more than a jar of paprika in the kitchen.  I’m busy making a sweet tasty pie (my life) and paprika is just something that’s not called for in this recipe.  So while it may be physically present in the kitchen (the universe), there’s no need for it in my pie, and therefore no reason to focus on it, much less get angry at it.

When I realized that, I suddenly felt even better.

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The other day Ben suggested we go on a hike. Nothing too crazy, just as far up North Mountain as we could.

As I tweeted at the time, “Hiking North Mountain with @tallbubba. I think he’s trying to kill me, but the joke’s on him cuz he’s not on my insurance yet.”

Yeah, I’m out of shape, regardless of my health history of the past seven years. In another lifetime I was more than a little bit of a mountain goat, bounding half-naked (or more than half) over boulders at Reddington Pass or hiking up and down the oceanside trails at Black Sand and Golden Gate Bridge beaches. But it was obvious from our little outing earlier this week those days are long gone.

Between my out of shape 50 year old body and Ben’s mangled 27 year old knees, we didn’t make it all that far. But this was the view we got…

(click to embiggen)

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Do you believe in extraterrestrial life?

Absolutely.  And not only do I believe it exists, but I believe the universe is teeming with it.  I would even go so far as to say that life is not only a by-product of the universe, but even moreso a requirement of it.  Do I believe we’ve been visited by extraterrestrials?  As much as I’d like to say yes, now I have to say probably not.

I love a good UFO/alien abduction tale as much as the next guy, but while it’s not impossible, considering the distances involved and the technology required for interstellar flight it’s all very, very unlikely. And on top of that, after spending the last 50 or so years observing humanity on this planet, I have come to the conclusion that if extraterrestrials are anything like us, as soon as they start taking their first tentative steps out of the nest, 99.9% of them either self-destruct over cultural differences and god-myths, or are wiped out by natural forces beyond their control.  The threat posed by rogue asteroids, comets, gamma ray bursts, catastrophic climatic change, super volcanoes and tectonic shifts certainly are not unique to the Earth, but ultimately I believe the risk of them wreaking planet-wide destruction is miniscule compared to the amount of havoc that can be unleashed by a civilization upon itself, either intentionally or through blind stupidity.

And what of the 0.1% of technological civilizations that do survive and achieve interstellar spaceflight?  I think they would be so different from us as to be virtually unrecognizable, and totally uninterested in Homo sapiens in any capacity, having seen the path we’re heading down play itself out thousands of times before.

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I don’t care who anybody sleeps with. If a couple has been together all that time—and there are gay relationships that are more solid than some heterosexual ones—I think it’s fine if they want to get married. I don’t know how people can get so anti-something. Mind your own business, take care of your affairs, and don’t worry about other people so much.” ~ Bette White, in an interview with Parade Magazine.

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I have a little—and let me stress a little—new Mac envy right now.  Like many other people, the new MacBook Air has captured my imagination.

I went over to the local Apple Store today and played with the 13-inch model (the 11-inch is just too friggin’ small as far as I’m concerned).  My initial list of the two things that need to change before I would buy one remain: more storage and a backlit keyboard, but damn…it is still one sexy beast.  And despite its older processor, it’s fast! Applications opened almost instantaneously—or at least notably faster than on my MBP.

I’ve only had my MBP for a year and still love it to death, so I’m obviously not in the market for a new laptop right now, but when it comes time to retire The Precious (and assuming the two items on my Airbook wish list have been put into production) I’ll definitely be looking at the Air line when the time comes.

While I was there, I had the opportunity to check out Office 2011 as well.  I was not impressed; at least not impressed enough to want to upgrade.  One of the biggest hurdles I had to get over when switching from Windows to Mac was the loss of Outlook, and while I was glad to hear that Microsoft was bringing it back in this release, I don’t even need it any more, having happily moved on to Postbox.

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Watching spoiled, clueless people on television selecting and buying property after supposedly being given only three arbitrary choices is one of my guilty pleasures.  Fortunately, on Saturday and Sunday, HomoGayTeeVee Home & Garden Television is more than happy to oblige me.

House Hunters International is especially amusing (or infuriating, depending on your viewpoint). Obviously there are exceptions, but overall the common thread running through the shows seem to be some pampered, obviously monied douchebags are looking for “vacation property” in locations the rest of us would gladly give up our left testicles for the opportunity of living in full time.  And as if to prove that in addition to being douchebags they’re also (whether or not they actually hail from the U.S.) stereotypically ugly Americans, none of them seem willing to fully adapt or embrace living in a foreign country.  It’s almost as if they’re blinded by the romantic idea of living abroad, but insist on bringing their mediocre suburban attitudes and expectations with them.  In a nutshell, most of them simply want to find homes equal to their current South Florida McMansions in the locale of their choice and are put off when faced with the reality of not having sixteen bedrooms, brand new fully-equipped kitchens with stainless steel appliances, and a host of other amenities immediately available to them in a 200 year old farmhouse in the south of France.

I have to hand it to the real estate agents on these shows; they should be nominated for sainthood by the simple virtue of not murdering their clients, much less being able to find them property…

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Russ Alvarez
20 August 1960-25 August 2010

Russ and I both emigrated from Arizona to arrive in—and subsequently depart from—San Francisco at approximately the same time, yet didn’t actually meet until we both ended up working for the same company in the same department after our respective returns to Phoenix. Witty, intelligent and possessing a wicked sense of humor, Russ was one of the few people I trusted enough to call up and vent with, knowing full well that anything I told him would not go any further.  The sharing of our similar, yet amazingly different histories in San Francisco was always a source of wonderful stories and—despite those differences—continual amazement that our paths had never crossed [in some alley or sex club]. He shall be sorely missed.

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