Red Mosquito

lennytheweedwhacker wrote:

BurtReynolds wrote:I think I'm gonna buy a house this year. i want to pay it off in 3 years, not 30. Doable?

If there is a will there is a way.

lennytheweedwhacker wrote:

lennytheweedwhacker wrote:

BurtReynolds wrote:I think I'm gonna buy a house this year. i want to pay it off in 3 years, not 30. Doable?

If there is a will there is a way.

And by will I mean if you inherit a large sum of money as the benefactor of someone’s will.

BurtReynolds wrote:

lennytheweedwhacker wrote:

lennytheweedwhacker wrote:

BurtReynolds wrote:I think I'm gonna buy a house this year. i want to pay it off in 3 years, not 30. Doable?

If there is a will there is a way.

And by will I mean if you inherit a large sum of money as the benefactor of someone’s will.

oh. I dont have that kind of will.

doug rr wrote:I had a real estate dream last night..we bought a mansion on East 21st in NYC...it was huge with giant back yard and had 4 bedrooms

bodysnatcher wrote:

doug rr wrote:I had a real estate dream last night..we bought a mansion on East 21st in NYC...it was huge with giant back yard and had 4 bedrooms

Was this dream set in the year of our lord 1580?

bodysnatcher wrote:I’m surprised that burt believes in the construct of a traditional 30 year mortgage

tragabigzanda wrote:Mildly obsessed with this new listing on the outskirts of town:

https://www.realtor.com/realestateandho ... 6382-33520

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

Chris_H_2 wrote:burt gets it. mortgages are for suckers. just pay cash up front.

lennytheweedwhacker wrote:

Chris_H_2 wrote:burt gets it. mortgages are for suckers. just pay cash up front.

What percentage of people can actually do that though.

bodysnatcher wrote:

doug rr wrote:I had a real estate dream last night..we bought a mansion on East 21st in NYC...it was huge with giant back yard and had 4 bedrooms

Was this dream set in the year of our lord 1580?

Chris_H_2 wrote:

lennytheweedwhacker wrote:

Chris_H_2 wrote:burt gets it. mortgages are for suckers. just pay cash up front.

What percentage of people can actually do that though.

spike

tragabigzanda wrote:

bodysnatcher wrote:

tragabigzanda wrote:Mildly obsessed with this new listing on the outskirts of town:

https://www.realtor.com/realestateandho ... 6382-33520

That’s the most ridiculous placement for a bed

Perhaps, but a tipi would be vulnerable to mountain lion attack so

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

Carl Sandburg wrote:There is a wolf in me . . . fangs pointed for tearing gashes . . . a red tongue for raw meat . . . and the hot lapping of blood—I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fox in me . . . a silver-gray fox . . . I sniff and guess . . . I pick things out of the wind and air . . . I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers . . . I circle and loop and double-cross.

There is a hog in me . . . a snout and a belly . . . a machinery for eating and grunting . . . a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun—I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.

There is a fish in me . . . I know I came from salt-blue water-gates . . . I scurried with shoals of herring . . . I blew waterspouts with porpoises . . . before land was . . . before the water went down . . . before Noah . . . before the first chapter of Genesis.

There is a baboon in me . . . clambering-clawed . . . dog-faced . . . yawping a galoot's hunger . . . hairy under the armpits . . . here are the hawk-eyed hankering men . . . here are the blonde and blue-eyed women . . . here they hide curled asleep waiting . . . ready to snarl and kill . . . ready to sing and give milk . . . waiting—I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.

There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird . . . and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want . . . and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes—And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.

O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart—and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where—For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.

tragabigzanda wrote:

bodysnatcher wrote:

tragabigzanda wrote:

bodysnatcher wrote:

tragabigzanda wrote:Mildly obsessed with this new listing on the outskirts of town:

https://www.realtor.com/realestateandho ... 6382-33520

That’s the most ridiculous placement for a bed

Perhaps, but a tipi would be vulnerable to mountain lion attack so

Give yourself a concussion every time you need to pee in the middle of the night

Mrs. Trag saw those floating spiral stairs and said "We're all gonna break our necks before the first week is out."