Front-page headline from yesterday’s LoudounNow, the weekly rag distributed in my adopted hometown: “Loudoun Leaders Target Lower Housing Costs as Top Priority.”
Sometimes you just don’t even know where to start.
And yes, you know you’re living in a wealthy area when a top priority is to make property less valuable.
First, the word “cost.” Housing “costs” are going to be lower? Our “leaders” somehow possess the ability to lower the means of production. Might as well lower the sea levels while we’re at it too.
I suppose what Loudoun “leaders” seek to do is lower the prices of homes in the county. The people who sell houses are just setting the prices way to high, and apparently tricking people into paying them.
I’m reminded of the old Yogi Berra line, probably the most beautiful of all Yogi-isms: It’s so crowded nobody goes there anymore.
To address this issue, county supervisors have created what they call the “Unmet Housing Needs Strategic Plan.” (I swear I am not making this up.) Agencies involved in the planning of this plan include the Department of Family Services, the Loudoun Human Services network, the Commission on Aging, and the Disability Services Board. (Yeah, I’m just scanning the article for names of agencies.) It reminds me of Will Rogers once said: I don’t make jokes. I just watch the government and report the facts.)
Short version of the story: property around here has just become too valuable, and we’ve got to do something about it. Where everyone else in the world is trying to make his property better, we might try the opposite. I guess shutting down that Silver Line should be our first priority because you know what? That’s only going to make it worse. I mean better. No… worse. I’m not really sure anymore.
Coming next week: a list of items I think are too expensive that I want my county legislature to magically reduce the price of.
I used to think of bar trivia as just something fun to do on a Monday or Tuesday night.
Win often enough and it becomes an investment.
Witnessing the amount of candy passing through my classroom Friday I felt as though I could coin a new phrase…
Valentine’s Day is the new Halloween.
I suppose that makes Presidents’ Day the new Thanksgiving.
Washington and Lincoln still get mad they have to share it with 43 other bozos.
In recent years it’s become fashionable to dislike Valentine’s Day, mocking those who embrace its mawkish celebration.
Like most trends, this one should be bucked.
Valentine’s Day is great. It’s got chocolate and candy and all that stuff, and it’s become even less religious than Christmas.
This year it kicks off a three-day weekend celebrating yet another underrated holiday, and on top of all that you’ve got position players reporting to spring training in the next few days.
Yup. Spring. I think I’m calling Valentine’s Day the official start of spring.
Feelin’ that one.
It’s been a tough week, but at least it’s Friday.
In 1986 Mark McGwire played 18 games–just few enough to keep him a “rookie” in his famous ’87 season.
In those 18 games he appeared twice as a pinch hitter–and the other 16 at 3rd base!
Obsessed with baseball cards again.
Just in time.
Yesterday’s bellringer asked students to calculate the age of a person born on February 6, 1911. (It’s 109, by the way.)
I also asked them to identify someone with this birthday.
Would’ve been a better bit if anyone actually knew who Ronald Reagan was.
‘Round these parts we’ve had temperatures in the 60s the past two days with another rather balmy (for February) start to today.
Who’s doubting the groundhog now?
Among my other activities in life I am responsible for teaching 11-year-olds the finer points of mathematics. Math isn’t exactly everyone’s idea of entertainment, so I occasionally pepper in some lighter material as well. With some success. Here’s an example of me trying to be clever at school.
Me: You know the word “gullible” is misspelled in the dictionary?
Eleven-year-old: What’s a dictionary?
Nice try, Boomer.
February 2020 has five Saturdays. This doesn’t happen very often. As a matter of fact, it happens only about once every 28 years. Two conditions must be met. One, February 1 must be a Saturday, and two, it must be a leap year. The first of the month being a Saturday happens one-seventh of the time, and leap years occur one-fourth of the time (not really, but it’s close enough).
When you’ve got something that happens only one-fourth of one-seventh of the time you take advantage of it. Get out and enjoy those February Saturdays!