Million Dickhead Listing SF: Turning and turning in the widening gyre

Just like last week, we've got a new crop of greedheads anxious to cash register out of their homes and siphon money from Google into their voracious mouths.  Unlike last week, it mostly doesn't work this time.

Justin meets up with old high school pal "Kevin" at Milennium Towers and I for one am curious about where the fuck this high school is.  (Oh, it's Gateway; here's a 2002 SF Gate piece on a much younger Justin interning at City Hall. Sounds like he wanted to go into politics instead of getting loathsome people houses in SF, but there you go.)  I hope Kevin is a long-form performance art piece with his dog named Kevyn Jr. and his stupid polar bear sweater and his apartment and his desire to become a jam enterpeneur because if this is all real AND it's coupled with his insane request to get almost $4 million for his little apartment (later talked down to 3 mil) then he's just a gluttonous snake like the rest of them who happens to think he's so quirky and charming and that's much worse somehow.

For some reason Justin thinks the way to blood-draw 3 million dollars from some sucker for this place is to have a fashion show?  So he gets some guy to put a bunch of mannequins fucking inside? And that will make people swoon and hand over their Dropbox fortune?

I don't know anything about fashion or real estate but the only thing this makes me want to buy is a flamethrower.  Eventually some mental deficient offers $2.8 for this place and of course Kevin won't take it.  We'll taste jam in hell together Kevin.

Andrew is not in San Francisco at all, which is a positive development for everyone else in San Francisco but unfortunately it looks like he's only temporarily detained in Livermore, where a little guy with a beard spends his days rolling around a 7000 square foot mansion that keeps getting described as Tuscan although it's in fucking Livermore and not Tuscany and also having red tiles and a pergola does not make any McMansion "Tuscan."  It's surrounded by a chardonnay vineyard because of course.

Returning to SOMA, as we often do, Roh is at the Metropolitan, where Ching would like him to sell a room at the W furnished by Ikea with an assist from the Free Stuff section of Craigslist.  Oh, there's a tenant they can't get rid of, and this little cockroach has committed the grave sin of leaving its shoddy belongings all over the unit.  The apartment is owned by MR. WONG, an "investor in China."

Mr. Wong's lair I mean office

Mr. Wong initially demands ONE POINT FOUR MILLION AMERICAN DOLLARS for this place but that is ridiculous even by San Francisco standards and Roh convinces Mr. Wong to go at the more reasonable 1.25.  Next a parade of assholes stomp through the place and pronounce it "ugly" and "horrible," just like their souls.  Eventually "Heidi," who has cultivated an aesthetic somewhere between truck stop waitress and Divine, comes forth with an offer: one million dollars.  Roh gets her to come up to 1.25 but I HAVE A BAD FEELING ABOUT THIS.

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold.  Mere offers of under asking are loosed upon the world.  Jam Magnate/Complicated Hairstyle Kevin will not sell Mannequin Fuck Palace for under 3 mil, so our work here is done.  Tiny Wine Tycoon suddenly remembers that he has a daughter who wants to get married 'midst the rolling hills and lifted trucks of Livermore and so he cannot bear to sell Tuscan Towne for 3.8 or any other price.  Roh meets with Heidi fresh off her shift at the Flying J but she is about to grind out a Benson & Hedges in his eye when she finds out that Mr. Wong is no longer selling.  Instead, he is transforming the tenant into a postapocalyptic cyborg warrior who will do his dark bidding.  One day Mr. Wong will be the landlord of all of us.