Real Estate Brochure Quotes

Picking oranges in Florida. Pushing a broom in New Orleans. Mucking out horse-stalls in Lufkin, Texas. Handing out real estate brochures on street corners in Phoenix, Arizona. Working jobs that pay cash. ... The faces on the currency don't matter. What matters is the sight of a weathervane against a violent pink sunset, the sound of his heels on an empty road in Utah, the sound of the wind in the New Mexico desert, the sight of a child skipping rope beside a junked-out Chevrolet Caprice in Fossil, Oregon. What matters is the whine of the powerlines beside Highway 50 west of Elko, Nevada, and a dead crow in a ditch outside Rainbarrel Springs. Sometimes he's sober and sometimes he gets drunk. Once he lays up in an abandoned shed-this is just over the California state line from Nevada-and drinks for four days straight. It ends with seven hours of off-and-on vomiting. For the first hour or so, the puking is so constant and so violent he is convinced it will kill him. Later on, he can only wish it would. And when it's over, he swears to himself that he's done, no more booze for him, he’s finally learned his lesson, and a week later lies drunk again and staring up at the strange stars behind the restaurant where he has hired on as a dishwasher. He is an animal in a trap and he doesn't care. ... Sometimes he asks himself what he thinks he's doing, where the hell he's going, and such questions are apt to send him in search of the next bottle in a hurry. Because he's really not going anywhere. He's just following the highways in hiding and dragging his trap along behind him, he's just listening to the call of those roads and going from one to the next. Trapped or not, sometimes he is happy; sometimes he sings in his chains like the sea. He wants to see the next weathervane standing against the next pink sunset. He wants to see the next silo crumbling at the end of some disappeared farmer's long-abandoned north field and see the next droning truck with TONOPAH GRAVEL or ASPLUNDH HEAVY CONSTRUCTION written on the side. He's in hobo heaven, lost in the split personalities of America. He wants to hear the wind in canyons and know that he's the only one who hears it. He wants to scream and hear the echoes run away.

The American real-estate industry believed segregation to be a moral principle. As late as 1950, the National Association of Real Estate Boards' code of ethics warned that "a Realtor should never be instrumental in introducing into a neighborhood ... any race or nationality, or any individuals whose presence will clearly be detrimental to property values." A 1943 brochure specified that such potential undesireables might include madams, bootleggers, gangsters - and "a colored man of means who was giving his children a college education and thought they were entitled to live among whites." The federal government concurred. It was the How Owners' Loan Corporation, not a private trade association, that pioneered the practice of redlining, selectively granting loans and insisting that any property it insured be covered by a restrictive covenant - a clause in the deed forbidding the sale of the property to anyone other than whites. Millions of dollars flowed from tax coffers into segregated white neighborhoods. "For perhaps the first time, the federal government embraced the discriminatory attitudes of the marketplace," the historian Kenneth R. Jackson wrote in his 1985 book, Crabgrass Frontier, a history of suburbanization. "Previously, prejudices were personalized and individualized; FHA exhorted segregation and enshrined it as public policy. Whole areas of cities were declared ineligible for loan guarantees." Redlining was not officially outlawed until 1968, by the Fair Housing Act. By then the damage was done - and reports of redlining by banks have continued.

As late as 1950, the National Association of Real Estate Boards’ code of ethics warned that “a Realtor should never be instrumental in introducing into a neighborhood… any race or nationality, or any individuals whose presence will clearly be detrimental to property values.” A 1943 brochure specified that such potential undesirables might include madams, bootleggers, gangsters—and “a colored man of means who was giving his children a college education and thought they were entitled to live among whites.

Fear ye not, stand still.… —Exodus 14:13 (KJV) Help, God! I’m overwhelmed! In the middle of creating a real estate brochure, my computer paused for what seemed an eternity each time I dropped in a new photo. “Hmm,” said the technician when my computer reacted to his touch like a really slow-moving snail, “let’s check your apps.” The technician tapped my home screen twice, and a stream of intriguing icons appeared at the bottom of the page. He swiped them with his finger. There were my mailbox, weather, news, Google, Mapquest, calendar, contacts, two word games, solitaire, a poetry book. On he swiped, past real estate, camera, some magazines, alarm clock, dictionary, Bible. “You haven’t turned off your apps in a while,” he said. “I didn’t know I was supposed to,” I answered. “If you leave them on, there’s too much information vying for space,” he explained. “Then everything slows down. A computer is like a person…can’t handle everything at once.” Hey, God, have You brought me here to tell me something? The tech showed me how to turn off the apps I didn’t need. Now my computer was brochure-ready and humming at full speed. As I left the store, I was humming too. Standing still, I turned off all the extra programs in my head and focused on the task at hand! Father, in a complicated world, You bring me back to what’s always true: “Be still” and know…one thing at a time! —Pam Kidd Digging Deeper: Prv 3:5–6; Is 40:28–31

In March 2025, my life took a devastating turn when I discovered that I had fallen victim to a fraudulent real estate investment scheme orchestrated by a group known as Woodbridge. They had lured me in with the enticing promise of 20% returns on my investment, a figure that seemed too good to be true but was hard to resist as a retiree looking to secure my financial future. I invested my entire $300,000 retirement savings, believing I was making a wise decision for my family and myself. Everything appeared legitimate. Woodbridge presented itself as a reputable real estate investment opportunity, complete with impressive marketing materials and testimonials from supposed satisfied investors. I felt reassured by the glossy brochures and the promises of financial security. However, as time went on, the reality began to unravel. I soon learned that Woodbridge was not investing in real estate as they had claimed. Instead, they were using the funds from new investors to pay off earlier investors, a classic Ponzi scheme that ultimately led to the collapse of the entire operation. When the scheme fell apart, I was left grappling with the harsh reality of losing my life savings. The emotional toll was immense, as I watched my dreams of a secure retirement slip away. It was during this dark time that I discovered Techy Force Cyber Retrieval, a firm dedicated to helping victims like me recover funds lost to fraudulent schemes. Their commitment to uncovering the truth and assisting those affected by financial fraud gave me a glimmer of hope. Techy Force Cyber Retrieval took on the daunting task of tracing the money trail left by Woodbridge. They revealed that my hard-earned savings had been funneled into luxury real estate properties in Los Angeles, which was shocking to learn. With the evidence they gathered, Techy Force Cyber Retrieval worked closely with the Securities and Exchange Commission (SEC) to initiate recovery efforts. Their expertise in navigating the complexities of financial fraud proved invaluable. Thanks to Techy Force Cyber Retrieval's diligent efforts, I was not only able to recover a portion of my lost investments but also recovered everything I had lost. This incredible outcome provided immense relief amidst the turmoil and restored my faith in the possibility of justice. This experience has taught me the importance of due diligence and skepticism when it comes to investment opportunities, especially those that promise unusually high returns. While the road to recovery was long and fraught with challenges, I am profoundly grateful for the support of Techy Force Cyber Retrieval. Their dedication to helping victims like me serves as a beacon of hope, reminding us that recovery is possible even in the aftermath of scams. I now feel empowered to share my story, with the hope of raising awareness and protecting others from falling into similar traps. DM  TECHY FORCE CYBER RETRIEVAL FOR A QUICK SOLUTION LIKE MINE   WA/APP  +1(561)(726)369)7   MAIL.  support (@) techy forcecy berretrieval . com