...the Lincoln Center production of South Pacific last night at the Bushnell was: would I come into the office this morning singing "Some Enchanted Evening" or "I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair?"
The winner: NEITHER. I waltzed into Willard Hall with "I'm in Love I'm in Love I'm in Love I'm in love with a WONDERFUL Guy"!
Additional reassuring fact: the 10-year-old daughter couldn't for the life of her figure out what the problem Nellie had with Emil (aside from his being boring). His once being married to a Polynesian woman and having two children with her (may she rest in peace) didn't register with her at all. Thank heavens.
Showing posts with label Racism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Racism. Show all posts
10 June 2009
There goes the neighborhood
The suspect in the Holocaust Museum shooting, James W. von Brunn, according to the CBS Evening News with Katie Couric, was an unsuccessful realtor.
Go figure.
Imagine his trying to sell a house, when for almost every available property outside the "white supremacist enclaves" he lived in and around over the years, he'd have to stop and say:
"It's right in your price range, but, then again, there's one of 'those' down the street," or
"Yes, this is a great house, but around the corner live some..." or
"No, I can't help you find a place, you @$!#%..." or
"I swear I don't know all the words to the theme song of The Jeffersons."
If the First Commandment of real estate is "Location, Location, Location," then Mr. von Brunn's possible market must have been fairly limited (perhaps not as limited as we all should want but a heckuva lot smaller than he must have believed).
Sure, a white supremacist might enjoy the idea of those blazers that all realtors wear in the tv advertisements, but actually having to relate to real people must have ruined his work day many a time.
Good.
And may the sadly disproportionate minority prison population welcome Mr. von Brunn as soon as possible.
Go figure.
Imagine his trying to sell a house, when for almost every available property outside the "white supremacist enclaves" he lived in and around over the years, he'd have to stop and say:
"It's right in your price range, but, then again, there's one of 'those' down the street," or
"Yes, this is a great house, but around the corner live some..." or
"No, I can't help you find a place, you @$!#%..." or
"I swear I don't know all the words to the theme song of The Jeffersons."
If the First Commandment of real estate is "Location, Location, Location," then Mr. von Brunn's possible market must have been fairly limited (perhaps not as limited as we all should want but a heckuva lot smaller than he must have believed).
Sure, a white supremacist might enjoy the idea of those blazers that all realtors wear in the tv advertisements, but actually having to relate to real people must have ruined his work day many a time.
Good.
And may the sadly disproportionate minority prison population welcome Mr. von Brunn as soon as possible.
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