#I even forced my philosophy class to watch it for a discussion on leadership and heroism

[yourlocalartsonist]

Rise of the TMNT is it even a question 💀

new question if you could force all of ur followers to watch/play through/read one piece of media what would it be

[theajjf]

Danzan Ryu at a Distance - by Abraham Zilkha

New Post has been published on https://www.ajjf.org/danzan-ryu-at-a-distance-by-abraham-zilkha/

Danzan Ryu at a Distance - by Abraham Zilkha

As I boarded the flight to Convention in early March, I could easily sense that the environment around me in the airport was quite different than usual. I am used to flying, traveling weekly or so for work, so I had grown accustomed to the sounds, crowds and rhythm of LAX. But today felt different. There was less noise, and fewer people. Those who were there, rather than scurrying around the airport trying to catch a flight, weaving in and out of the crowd of other passengers, moved slowly and carefully, with caution instead of urgency. I remarked to my dojo-mate Chris who boarded the flight with me, that in a way we were fortunate – we’d have plenty of extra space and likely our pick of seats on the uncrowded flight. Indeed we did, finding a nice empty row to share. We wiped down our seats, sat down, buckled in, and made our way north to San Ramon.

The 2020 AJJF Convention was full of exciting, educational, fun, and inspiring moments. But in the backdrop of this great event, you could feel that we were all on the verge of a looming challenge. The hand sanitizer bottles carefully placed on the tables, the elbow-to-elbow handshakes and the distance hugs. We all knew trying times were likely around the corner. As Convention concluded and I headed back to LA, my dojo-mates and I talked about how we looked forward to continuing our training, all the while knowing that things might start to look very different soon, and that we had to prepare for what was about to come.

It was coincidental that at that time I had just completed one of the books from our dojo reading list that had some interesting parallels to my own early 2020 experiences, Persimmon Wind, by Dave Lowry. The book tells the story of Lowry’s own travels for his martial arts training; visiting rural Japan to reconnect with his sensei, who after having trained with Lowry while living in St. Louis, eventually returned home. After the long flight and journey to the countryside outside Nara, Lowry’s trip was filled with training, unique experiences, and connecting at new depths with his dojo family and martial arts lineage. Towards the end of his trip however, a typhoon approached Japan, and Lowry, his sensei and family all had to prepare sensei’s home for the coming storm. Lowry could literally ‘smell’ the storm pending in the near future. The forewarning winds picked up the smell of persimmon trees from the surrounding area, hurling around with an unusual potency, indicating that the storm was approaching. Training with his sensei well past when the winds picked up, eventually it came time to carry sensei’s unwieldy wooden storm shutters up to the pitched roof, and cover the house’s windows for extra protection from the coming typhoon. Once the house was fortified, Lowry, his sensei and their household retired for the evening. After a warm meal of oden stew, rice and pickled vegetable, they spent the mostly sleepless night huddled by candlelight after the power went out, drinking genmaicha tea, and engaging in hours of conversations about martial arts, American and Japanese cultures, and how their training and life experiences have shaped their characters.

Like Lowry surrounded by the early winds in Nara, in late February many of us could start to sense our ‘storm’ coming, and by mid-March it had hit. Our physical dojo was locked down; we all stocked up on provisions, and then gathered into our homes to stay safe. The Novel Coronavirus had arrived in Southern California. Since then, like nearly everything else in our lives, our Jujitsu training has changed as we wait for it to pass. But like in Persimmon Wind, our time in shelter has been a time of learning, of probing deeper into elements of our training, and of getting to know ourselves and the other members of our dojo in ways we otherwise may not have done. In Persimmon Wind, Lowry doesn’t describe his night in the storm as the low point of his trip, nor as a disappointment at all. Rather, it was a unique moment to transition in and out of, with experiences and lessons not to be dismissed as the best he

could do in the situation. Back in Southern California, our Santa Monica dojo closed, our Pacific Jujitsu Kai virtual dojo opened, and our path on the journey of Danzan Ryu took a unique and engaging turn.

In the virtual dojo, much has remained the same as in our physical dojo. As we enter the Zoom room, we bow in, we warm up with Kowami exercises, and our Sensei, Professor Kaplowitz, walks through the lesson plan for the day. We practice our techniques, engaging with Sensei and each other, in ways that don’t simply try to mimic what we did in our physical dojo, but that take advantage of the unique circumstance to focus and improve on particular elements of our techniques. Using lines we each made on our floors to guide us, we are paying extra attention to footwork in Nage practice drills. Using gis to grip, we are focusing on proper hand and wrist movements in Shime. Using yoga mats (or for the braver of us, the floor) we are practicing a variety of Sutemi drills I hadn’t done before. We’ve had the added benefit of also training with dojomates of ours who have moved elsewhere, and who can now train with us routinely again. Over the course of our time in the virtual dojo, I have definitely felt my development in Danzan Ryu continue. Drilling familiar techniques under my Sensei’s watch without a physical uke has helped me become more focused on my own movements, and more deliberate with my footwork and posture. White belts through black belts in our dojo ask questions about the techniques along the way, often calling to my attention details I hadn’t been focused on before. As a result, it feels like every class I walk away with new perspectives on techniques I’ve practiced before. Perspectives that perhaps would have taken me much longer to develop training in a more traditional class setting.

Interspersed within our new routine, has been a series of engaging sessions dedicated to learning and discussing elements of DZR and related concepts from neighboring arts and philosophies. These have allowed us to broaden our training horizon, and deepen our understanding of areas we may have only been somewhat familiar with before. With incredible guest lecturers including Senior Professor Ball, Professor Hudson, and Professor Belzer, we have covered elements of Danzan Ryu history and philosophy, Seifukujitsu and healing arts, as well as Japanese and martial arts culture that have enriched our training. Similar to Dave Lowry in Persimmon Wind, while secluded from the world and forced outside of our normal routine, we have taken this opportunity to learn new things, deepen our connection to our art, and all become a bit closer to one another as a result.

As the typhoon fled from the Nara countryside, Dave Lowry prepared to bid farewell to his sensei and return to his life in the United States; his experience in Japan enriched by his night in the storm, ending on a personal high note. Many, if not all of us, across the AJJF are likely still in circumstances that prevent us from returning to ‘normal’. Hopefully everyone is staying safe and healthy. For those able to, finding a way to engage in training in this unique environment may prove to be a very memorable, personal, and developmental moment in their DZR journey, as it has been for me and our dojo. Our virtual dojo has been a place of learning, growth, fun and a much needed respite from the health, social, and financial consequences we may facing from COVID-19 and the stormy world around us. Hopefully now the clouds may be starting to lift. While all of us are of course looking forward to the sunshine after the storm, under the leadership of our Sensei, Professor Kaplowitz, our training has continued and expanded during this challenging time, and our bond as a dojo has strengthened as we experienced Danzan Ryu at a distance all together.

Taking turns leading Kowami exercises

Focusing on Sensei’s footwork   Improvised weights for pushing / raising warm ups

Sensei’s Yawara Wheel to pick the next Yawara technique

  Back to Kiai Echo March 2020 – February 2021

[thisdaynews]

Unhappy with Their 2016 Coronation, the Democrats Start a 2020 Circus

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/unhappy-with-their-2016-coronation-the-democrats-start-a-2020-circus/

Unhappy with Their 2016 Coronation, the Democrats Start a 2020 Circus

MIAMI—Marianne Williamson narrowed her eyes and gazed into my soul, channeling some of the same telekinetic lifeforce she’d used minutes earlier to cast a spell on Donald Trump in her closing statement of Thursday’s Democratic presidential debate. Inside a sweaty spin room, with swarms of reporters enfolding Kamala Harris and Bernie Sanders and Kirsten Gillibrand, the author and self-help spiritualist drifted through the madness with a mien of Zen-like satisfaction. It was only when I asked her a question—what does she say to people who don’t think she belonged on that debate stage?—that Williamson’s sorcerous intensity returned.

“This is a democracy, that’s what I say to them,” she replied, her hypnotic voice anchored by an accent perfected at Rick’s Café. “There’s this political class, and media class, that thinks they get to tell people who becomes president. This is what’s wrong with America. We don’t do aristocracy here. We do democracy.”

Story Continued Below

For better and worse.

In 2016, Hillary Clinton was served the Democratic presidential nomination on a silver platter. With a monopoly on the left’s biggest donors and top strategists, with the implicit backing of the incumbent president, with the consensus support of the party’s most prominent officials, and with only four challengers standing in her way—the most viable of whom had spent the past quarter-century wandering the halls of Congress alone muttering under his breath—Clinton couldn’t lose. The ascendant talents on the left knew better than to interfere. She had already been denied her turn once before; daring to disrupt the party’s line of succession would be career suicide.

This coronation yielded one of the weakest general-election nominees in modern American history—someone disliked and distrusted by more than half of the electorate, someone guided by a sense of entitlement rather than a sense of urgency, someone incapable of mobilizing the party’s base to defeat the most polarizing and unpopular Republican nominee in our lifetimes.

Democrats don’t have to worry about another coronation. Instead, with two dozen candidates battling for the right to challenge Trump next November, they are dealing with the opposite problem: a circus.

Three days after the maelstrom in Miami, top Democratic officials insist there’s no sense of panic. They say everything is under control. They tell anyone who will listen that by virtue of the rules and debate qualification requirements they’ve implemented, this mammoth primary field will soon shrink in half, which should limit the internecine destruction and hasten the selection of a standard-bearer. But based on conversations with candidates and campaign operatives, it might be too late for that. The unifying objective of defeating Trump in 2020 likely won’t be sufficient to ward off what everyone now believes will be a long, divisive primary.

First impressions are everything in politics. And it was understood by those candidates and campaign officials departing Miami that what America was introduced to this week—more than a year before the Democrats will choose their nominee at the 2020 convention—was a party searching not only for a leader but for an identity, for a vision, for a coherent argument about how voters would benefit from a change in leadership.

“I don’t think there’s a sense among the American people of what the national Democratic Party stands for. And I think there’s actuallymoreconfusion about that now,” Michael Bennet, the Colorado senator and presidential candidate, told me after participating in Thursday night’s forum.

Some confusion is inevitable when 20 candidates, many of them unfamiliar to a national audience, are allotted five to seven minutes to explain why they are qualified to lead the free world. Yet the perception in the eyes of the political class—and the feeling on the ground was something closer to chaos.

With a record number of viewers tuning in between the two nights, a record number of candidates talked over one another, contorted themselves ideologically, evaded straightforward questions and traded insults both implicit and explicit. With such a splayed primary field, some of this is to be expected: Debates are imperative to exposing the fault lines within the Democratic coalition, to refining and forging the left’s governing philosophy through the fires of competition. A measured clash of ideas and worldviews is healthy for a party seeking a return to power.

What’snothealthy for a party is when the frontrunner, a white man, is waylaid by the ferociously talented up-and-comer, a black woman, who prefaces her attack: “I do not believe you are a racist…” What’snothealthy for a party is when a smug, self-impressed congressman with no business being on the stage flails wildly with juvenile sound bites. What’snothealthy for a party is when a successful red-state governor and a decorated war hero-turned-congressman are forced to watch from home as an oracular mystic with no experience in policymaking lectures her opponents on the folly of having actual “plans” to govern the country.

Granted, these lowlights and many others came during the second debate. Just 22 hours before it commenced, Democratic National Committee chairman Tom Perez sounded relieved at how relatively painless the first contest had been.

“We talked about the issues. We didn’t talk about hand size,” Perez told me after the end of the Wednesday night debate. (Perez was grinning in reference to the 2016 Republican debate in which Donald Trump, responding to Marco Rubio’s vulgar euphemism, assured viewers of his plentiful genitalia.) “The Republican candidates were only concerned about how they could put a knife in their opponent’s back,” Perez added. “We had spirited discussions. We had some disagreements, but they were all about the merits and the issues. They weren’t, ‘Not only are you wrong, but your mother wears army boots.’”

Even in that first debate of this week’s campaign-opening doubleheader, however, there was no shortage of skirmishes that felt deeply personal, opening wounds that won’t easily scab over in the campaign ahead.

History will remember Harris confronting Biden on Thursday, the testier of the two debates, in a moment that dominated news coverage and could well come to inform one or both of their campaign trajectories.

But even on Wednesday, there was Tim Ryan and Tulsi Gabbard, a clash of the congressional back-benchers, feuding over the use of American military force abroad. Gabbard, an Iraq veteran, won the round on points by correcting Ryan’s assertion that the Taliban attacked the U.S. on September 11, 2001. This so visibly irked Ryan that he fumed to reporters afterward, “I personally don’t need to be lectured by somebody who’s dining with a dictator who gassed kids,” a reference to the congresswoman’s rapport with Syrian strongman Bashar al-Assad.

There was Julián Castro, the former San Antonio mayor once considered the party’s brightest rising star, aiming to recapture mojo stolen by Beto O’Rourke. Unleashing on his unsuspecting fellow Texan, Castro repeatedly told O’Rourke to “do your homework” on the issue of immigration law, criticizing him for failing to back a sweeping change that would decriminalize border crossings. It was a stinging rebuke that punctuated O’Rourke’s dismal night and gave Castro’s camp their biggest boost of the campaign.

And there was Eric Swalwell, the catchphrase-happy California congressman, cynically scolding Pete Buttigieg, the mayor of South Bend, Indiana, for not firing his police chief after a black man’s killing at the hands of a white officer. Buttigieg responded with a cold stare, crystallizing all the campaigns’ feelings about Swalwell, for whom indiscriminate attacks seem to be a strategic cornerstone.

The significance in these events was not merely what was said in the moment, but what is now assured in the future.

Upcoming debates will almost certainly feature discussion of Gabbard’s shadowy connections to Syria, and more broadly, of the party’s ambiguous post-Obama foreign policy doctrine. There will be greater pressure to conform to Castro’s argument on decriminalizing border crossings, a position that animates the progressive base but may well alienate moderates and independents. The whispers of Buttigieg’s struggle with black voters will surely intensify, and his opponents are already scheming of ways to use one of his debate responses—“I couldn’t get it done”—against him.

This is to say nothing of the other minefields that await: opposition-research files presented on live television, litmus-test questions on issues such as abortion and guns, not to mention the ideological pressure placed on the field by Bernie Sanders and Elizabeth Warren, neither of whom were seriously tested in the first set of debates but whose ambitious big-government proposals are driving the party’s agenda and putting more moderate candidates in a bind.

As for Biden, regardless of whether his poll numbers plummet or hold steady in the weeks ahead, one thing was obvious in Thursday’s aftermath: blood in the water. You could hear it in the voices of rival campaign officials, whispering of how they knew the frontrunner was fundamentally vulnerable due to his detachment from today’s party. You could see it on the faces of Biden’s own allies, who struggled to defend his showing.

“What I saw was a person who listened to Kamala Harris’s pain,” Cedric Richmond, the chairman of the Congressional Black Caucus and one of Biden’s highest-profile surrogates, said after the debate ended. Referring to the busing controversy, Richmond added, “All of that was out there when the first African-American president of the United States decided to pick Joe Biden as his running mate, and he had the vice president’s back every day of the week. So, I’m not sure that voters are going back 40 years to judge positions.”

They don’t have to. What the maiden debates of the 2020 election cycle demonstrated above all else is the acceleration of change inside the Democratic Party—not just since Biden came to Congress in 1973, but since he became vice president in 2009.

Ten years ago this September, Barack Obama convened a joint session of Congress to reset the narrative of his health-care reform push and dispel some of the more sinister myths surrounding it. One particular point of emphasis for Obama: The Affordable Care Act would not cover undocumented immigrants.

On Thursday, every one of the 10 candidates on stage—Biden included—said their government plans would do exactly that.

The front-runner has cloaked himself in the 44th president’s legacy, invoking “the Obama-Biden administration” as a shield to deflect all manner of criticism. And yet, parts of that legacy—from enshrining the Hyde Amendment, to deporting record numbers of illegal immigrants, to aggressively carrying out drone strikes overseas, to sanctioning deep cuts in government spending—are suddenly and fatally out of step with the modern left. This crop of Democrats won’t hesitate to score points at the previous administration’s expense, as evidenced by Harris’s censure of Obama’s deportation policies. And the gravitational pull of the party’s base will continue to threaten the long-term viability of top contenders, as evidenced by the continuing talk of eliminating private insurance and Harris’s own shaky explanations of whether she supports doing so.

For months, Democratic officials have expressed confidence that their party would avoid the reality TV-inspired meltdown that was the 2016 Republican primary. After all, the star of that show is the common enemy of everyone seeking the Democratic nomination.

Miami was not a promising start. With so many candidates, with so little fear of the frontrunner, with so much pressure on the bottom three-quarters of the field to turn in campaign-prolonging performances, nothing could keep a lid on the emotions and ambitions at work. It’s irresistible to compare the enormous fields of 2016 and 2020. But the fact is, when Republicans gathered for their first debate in August 2015, Trump had already surged to the top of the field. He held the pole position for the duration of the race, despite so much talk of volatility in the primary electorate, because he relentlessly stayed on the offensive, never absorbing a blow without throwing two counter-punches in return.

Leaving Miami, it was apparent to Democrats that they have a very different race on their hands—and a very different frontrunner. Biden’s team talks openly about a strategy of disengagement, an approach that sounds reasonable but in fact puts the entire party at risk. The danger Democrats face is not that a talented field of candidates will be systematically wiped out by a dominant political force. The danger is that there is no dominant political force; that at this intersection of ideological drift and generational discontent and institutional disruption, an obtrusively large collection of candidates will be emboldened to keep fighting not just for their candidacies but for their conception of liberalism itself, feeding the perception of a party in turmoil and easing the president’s fight for reelection.

In the spin room after Wednesday night’s debate, a blur of heat and bright lights and body odor, John Delaney, the Maryland congressman, was red in the face explaining that none of the voters he talks with care about impeaching Trump. A few feet away, Bill DeBlasio, the New York City mayor, whacked the “moderate folks” like Delaney for not understanding where the base is, promising “a fight for the soul of the party.” Just over his shoulder, Washington Governor Jay Inslee slammed the complacency of his fellow Democrats on the issue of climate change, decrying “the tyranny of the fossil fuel industry” over both political parties.

Joaquin Castro, the congressman and twin brother to Julián, stood off to the side observing the mayhem. Just as he was explaining how “at least 20” reporters had mistaken him for his brother that night, the two of us were nearly stampeded underneath a mob of reporters encircling Elizabeth Warren.

“Man,” he said, looking warily from side to side. “This is surreal.”

Read More

[dienli]

rei && iroh for the ship meme .

ship meme || accepting

uhhh this is slightly challenging because it’s not between two canon characters but i’ll do my best! under a break for length >>>

• when or if I started shipping it: Rei was intended (expected?) not to be a shipworthy character, just a painfully low-class citizen of Republic City trying to keep her shop alive while doing some brilliant science...but somehow a starter where she failed to recognize the Crown Prince of the Fire Nation on sight, assuming he was the manager and getting angry at him for overcharging her in the Jasmine Dragon, led to this shit• my thoughts: g a y. nah i love them together. i’m good friends with irohthesecond’s mun who is definitely not sexually attracted to boats or any of napoleon’s generals (i got ur back buddy they’ll never know). our historical- and shitpost-flavored irei headcanon jams are everything• What makes me happy about them: they’re both once-in-a-lifetime eccentric, interesting, world-changing people. they’re painfully intelligent and adventurous and driven and introverted, but it manifests in different ways for each of them. their chemistry is amazing, they get weird with each other, their quirks fit well together even though rei is a massive nag. without ever directly discussing it, they make each other better people--rei moderates iroh’s worst impulses, iroh encourages rei to be brave. their kids would be massive assholes who achieve ridiculous things. all in all, good shit.• What makes me sad about them: they can communicate incredibly well about everything except how they feel for each other. both are quite emotionally opaque. iroh doesn’t seem to think about how either of them feel, ever, choosing to live entirely in the moment. rei always assumes the worst about how they feel, doesn’t think they belong together, and is afraid of commitment, which sits at odds with her silent jealousy and possessiveness, causing a lot of internal strife she can’t get rid of. and above all, she doesn’t want her legacy to be ‘famously the lover of Firelord Iroh’ or worse, she wants it to be some incredible and unfathomable scientific discovery she made, or institutions she founded, or inventions that helped humanity, or her leadership, or the similar accomplishments of the great family house she starts. Anything more meaningful than gossip.• things done in art/fic that annoys me: i draw all the art of them and it sucks because i drew it. sure HATE how it’s bad all the time. i also hate how i don’t commission any art of them, kinda bullshit• things I look for in art/fic: uhhh i’ll assume “in rp” since these aren’t canon characters: would love to explore their relationship developing, but these are two very uncooperative muses. related, i’d like to see how they handle extremely stressful situations together. put em through the wringer a bit.• Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: As a long term “canon” ending? i doubt rei would find anyone up to her standards. (technically iroh isn’t even up to her standards, so...) most likely she’d end up romantically alone and just mentor an apprentice to inherit her work and legacy in her old age. iroh, though, is charismatic and would get along with almost anyone. I could see him ending up with korra or asami (assuming they don’t end up together for some reason). otherwise, he seems the type to marry only when and if duty requires, but charm the crap out of whoever the (un?)lucky spouse is.• My happily ever after for them: really undecided on this. I don’t think iroh’s mun and I have even headcanoned this, other than that their tons of letters to each other would be super confusing when analyzed by future historians.• what is their favorite non-sexual activity? they have a lot--debating philosophy and political praxis, talking about current events, eating at hotpot restaurants, goofing around with their pets, hiking and camping, fishing, swimming, listening to the radio, dancing, getting competitive about absolutely anything, trying to imitate Colonel Ho’s Crunchy Fried Chicken recipe (well, Rei tries to imitates it, Iroh test-tastes), lifting (rei mostly watches), yoga (iroh mostly watches). being a paratrooper at some point in his special forces career, he took her skydiving a couple of times.

[garynsmith]

The future of NAR: Action will be the measure, not words

http://ift.tt/2uSDcc6

I just spent a few days in Chicago with the National Association of Realtors. During my travel, I thoroughly enjoyed Brad Inman’s description of our “fat cat (leadership) gathering.”

As I dined on velvety cream cheese airline crackers aboard the luxury Orange Line into town, I thought about how thrilling it was. I was in the company of the “thousands of NAR ghosts who love the suite life, sometimes travel first class and are experts at finding the best restaurants on their member-paid boondoggles.”

Bob Goldberg’s fat cat candy suite

Sitting through a 90-minute working lunch on better engaging our members and supporting our volunteer leaders, I surveyed my conference chicken and steamed broccoli feast. I reflected on the free drink ticket in my jacket pocket for the evening’s festivities. I had to admit that this really was the Ritz.

Speaking of Ritz, even the snack crackers seem to be material evidence when NAR’s new CEO, Bob Goldberg, is discussed these days. Inman said Goldberg’s suite was “larger than an average apartment in New York City and was stacked with more treats than a 7-Eleven. It looked out over the Chicago River with Lake Michigan views that might give rise to grand visions, delusions or both.”

I imagine that Goldberg’s suite was bejeweled in Reese’s Pieces and Diet Cokes that glittered in the lake’s reflection. If anything signaled delusions of grandeur, the snack bar was it.

6 ways empowered agents embrace disruption to drive success

Using technology to generate leads and win listings READ MORE

This event might not have compared to the big-ticket galas or the six-figure checks that certain portals lavish on MLSs, but the shiny cardboard cylinders filled with savory oval potato crisps were some kind of wonderful.

Disruption: What’s in a word?

Goldberg has been talking about “disrupters” frequently, and there’s been an attempt by some to paint it as a show of fear or a victim mentality. I’m not sure if these folks actually listened to his interview with Andrew Flachner or his address to the Leadership Summit.

VIDEO

Goldberg’s message was to embrace the disrupters, the innovators, the change agents — and bring them into a bigger tent.

I don’t know Goldberg well enough to tell you exactly how his tenure will go as NAR’s CEO. Action will be the measure, not words. But as of right now, he’s saying all the things that membership is asking for.

There’s another notion making the rounds that we should stop saying “disruptor” because “innovator” is a better philosophical choice. Although I appreciate the intent, it’s a bit like me telling my kids that crying never fixed anything, so we’re just not going to have it in our home any more.

Great leaders don’t create SWOT analyses and refuse to fill in some of the boxes. Sometimes disruption is elegant innovation that should be embraced and partnered with. Sometimes it’s just cheapness at scale or brute force taking market share.

Sometimes disruption is an unending airport serpentine of passengers waiting for a single dog to smell their bags because somebody at TSA said, “today, let’s do it differently.”

This the other part of the disruption conversation: disrupting the status quo of your people. Goldberg has tasked the NAR staff and leadership to get out in the field and serve members, to know members and to measure members’ satisfaction with the trade organization.

If you haven’t had a chance yet, watch Goldberg’s speech. Listen to the promises, and hold him to them. Hold us to them. We want nothing less.

Focusing on people

Two consecutive Ubers canceled my 6 a.m. trip back to the airport because they couldn’t find one of the biggest hotels in Chicago. I swallowed my fat cat ego and hailed an old-fashioned cab.

It gave me a minute to conjure up the kind of big shot figurehead quote that I read every morning in my Wealth Magazine at the spa: “If your people don’t understand where they’re supposed to be going, all of the technology in the world won’t get them there.”

Excuse me while I light up a Cuban and sign some royalty checks.

All kidding aside with Inman, his final conclusion is spot on and actually much like Goldberg’s philosophy.

“With no shortage of good intentions, big ideas and devoted volunteers and staff, my advice is to stop asking your members to ‘support NAR.’ The slogan should be flipped: How is NAR supporting the everyday Realtor?”

We’re starting off on the right foot. Those who’ve already written Goldberg’s chapter may be in for a bit of disruption themselves.

Sam DeBord is managing broker of Seattle Homes Group with Coldwell Banker Danforth and President of Seattle King County Realtors. You can find his team at SeattleHomes.com and BellevueHomes.com.

from Inman http://ift.tt/2xaM4s4 via IFTTT