Can’t get that house to sell? You need a statue of Saint Joe to bury in the front yard. Not a believer? Doesn’t really matter. At least that’s what I read in The saint of real estate? Believe it by Al Lewis, a Denver Post staff columnist.
My mother-in-law flew in from New York and rode down to Colorado Springs where I had just put an investment property up for sale.
She dug a hole in the front yard, buried a statue of St. Joseph upside down, and said a prayer. She told me this Catholic ritual would yield a quick sale. It sounded ridiculous. “You’re not even Catholic,” I reminded her. “You’re Jewish.”
Apparently, this does not matter to St. Joe, husband of Mary and stepfather to Jesus…
The columnist is apparently joking, but the people he interviewed sounded totally serious. You really must read the whole thing.
I am not going to say anything or smirk, because I have a white elephant statue in my bedroom, and you can bet he’s appropriately facing toward the front door of my house. It’s supposed to bring good luck to a marriage, and I celebrated my 17th anniversary this year. At least I didn’t buy the darn thing. It was a wedding present from Mr. Writerdd’s grandmother. (Amazingly, I can’t find anything about this particular good luck superstition on a quick google search, so you’ll have to take my word for it.)
Hmmm. Hemant thinks this is a serious article and is really pissed off. (Good thing the online version didn’t contain the subhead about atheists in real estate foxholes.) I wonder. I’m usually too dense to notice when something is satirical, and I am often embarassed by jokes that go right over my head. Am I being too dense to notice that this columnist is actually this stupid?