Today in false equivelences:

Friendly advice: if someone offers you
food in hand-labeled mason jars and 
trust me, someone will, just don't eat it.

Hey, you know who can go fuck himself? Local landlord Gary Whitney. Sorry, that was probably a little harsh and also you almost certainly don't know whom I'm talking about, so I'll explain. Santa Cruz, where I live, is a little beach town on Monterrey Bay in California. It's a touristy place full of surfers, hippies and people who think you want to hear about their homemade all natural cleanse or sincerely believe that rubbing an amethyst under their arms is the same thing as using deodorant. Fun fact: it isn't. They're lovely people, but it isn't. Still though, I like it. It's a nice place to live.

Oh, you do insist on your own bathroom?
bathroom? Then I suppose you'll be needing 
 servants quarters as well, eh your lordship?

But as nice as it is, it isn't worth paying $2,000 for a one bedroom apartment. Of course you can pay less if you don't insist on extravagances like having your own bathroom. But assuming you can actually find a place within your budget, most management companies and landlords insist on doing what's called a hard check on your credit which actually lowers your credit score, even if they don't rent to you. And you also have to hand over a pay stub proving you make three times the rent which is weird, because you only need one the apartment. It's just their way of saying 'no poors.'

Oh, and if a year into your lease your landlord decides to jack your rent up by like twenty percent or something, chances are you have to move and start the process all over again. What I mean by all this is that renting in Santa Cruz is a humiliating shit show.

After passing the credit check and proving their income, potential tenants
must compete in the Thunderdome for the amusement of landlords.

I'm not a property owner, but a new coat
of paint and maybe a leaky faucet here and
there...what's that, eight? Nine grand?

But the good news is that the city council approved a temporary freeze on rent increases over two percent and a more permanent fix might be coming to a vote soon. Awesome, right? Probably, although the impending freeze is prompting some landlords to get crazy rent increases in under the wire, which for one guy at the meeting meant another $300 a month. That's another $3,600 a year on top of whatever he was already paying. So that's a kick in the teeth. But I suppose there are two sides to this, I mean, landlords do have to come up with money to pay for repairs and upkeep, right?

Pictured: Gary Whitney,* seen here lighting
an expensive cigar with a $100 bill as if to
emphasize his disregard for the common man.

Which brings us to local landlord, opponent of the proposed legislation and cartoonish symbol of America's wealth disparity, Gary Whitney who spoke at the council's meeting:

"You wouldn't go down to Dell Williams (a local jewelry store) and tell them how much to charge for a watch..."

-Gary Whitney, sticking

up for Big Watch

Tragically, Santa Cruz's watchless population
is more than four times likely to be late to things.

Well yes, he's got me there. The city council is probably not likely going to be instituting watch price controls anytime soon, but on the other hand Santa Cruz isn't suffering from out of control watch prices. Like, I can't believe that I have to point this out, but watches are not apartments. This town isn't ranked among the highest in the nation when it comes to per capita watchlessness. Having to pull out your iPhone instead of casually glancing at your wrist isn't the same thing as sleeping in the doorway of the Forever 21.

Again, I don't know Gary Whitney, and I'm sure his family thinks he's a great guy, but he just got up in a meeting and spouted off the same kind of 'the market will see to itself,' unfettered capitalism nonsense that can only end in pitchforks and torches.

Above: What we can look forward to.

*ok, not an actual photo, but you're not reading this because you want accuracy.