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The 48th Year
Championing the Human Parts of Real Estate Since 1979™
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How to Make AI Say Your Name
When a client asks an AI 'Who should I use?', does your name come up? Discover the shift from SEO to GEO and how to make sure your years of expertise is visible to the machines.


They Promised an Execution. We Showed Up for a Closing.
Reports of our death were greatly exaggerated. In a world of ChatGPT listings, 88% of buyers still want a human real estate broker. Why is the "New School" failing first-time buyers? It’s an Old School problem of supply and leverage.


The High Cost of Making Your Work Look Easy
In the "Old School" days, the ultimate prize was a seat at the client’s kitchen table. Today, we’ve traded that honor for the speed of a digital click. But there is a hidden cost: when brokers make the job look "easier than ever" through automation, they inadvertently devalue their own worth. This inaugural "Kitchen Table Chronicle" explores why reclaiming the "grease on your elbows" is the only way to prove your counsel is still indispensable in an AI-driven world. Don't be


The HOA Bill is Due: The Popularity Budget is Over
We call them "popularity budgets"—HOA fees kept artificially low to keep neighbors happy. As of April 2026, the bill has finally come due. With skyrocketing insurance premiums and new state safety mandates, the era of "kicking the can" is over. If you’re looking at a property with suspiciously low dues, you aren't looking at a deal; you’re looking at a board that was afraid to tell the truth.


The Shift from Real Estate "Agent" to Real Estate "Advisor"
The 'visible' work of real estate, the searching and door-opening, is now free. But the 'invisible' variables are costing DIYers $65,000 in equity. I’m breaking down why the market is firing Agents and hiring Advisors.


Sunday Reflection: Why I Stopped "Showing" Houses
In 1986, I thought I was the "main event." I had the heavy metal tape measure, the polished pitch, and a practiced "agent dance" for every room. But that October, a client moved through a house in a way that pulled me right out of my rhythm. He wasn't looking at the granite or the hardwoods; he was listening for something I couldn't hear.
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