In this video, it was my first time playing Real Estate Simulator. I bought a
sleeping bag, went to the slums, bought a tent, decorated the tent with a
sleeping back, went back to the office, listed the tent for sale in the
computer, sold the tent and made some money from the sale.From Sleeping Bag to Cozy Haven(A Short Fictional Story)In my inaugural venture into the realm of **Real Estate Simulator**, I embarked on a modest yet intriguing journey. Armed with naivety and a touch o
In this video, it was my first time playing Real Estate Simulator. I bought a
sleeping bag, went to the slums, bought a tent, decorated the tent with a
sleeping back, went back to the office, listed the tent for sale in the
computer, sold the tent and made some money from the sale.
From Sleeping Bag to Cozy Haven
(A Short Fictional Story)
In my inaugural venture into the realm of **Real Estate Simulator**, I embarked on a modest yet intriguing journey. Armed with naivety and a touch of entrepreneurial spirit, I navigated the digital landscape, eager to transform virtual pixels into tangible profits.
The first step was simple: **acquire a sleeping bag**. It seemed an odd choice for a budding real estate tycoon, but I envisioned it as my humble seed capital. With my newly acquired asset in tow, I ventured into the virtual slums. The air was thick with pixelated grime, and the flickering streetlights cast eerie shadows on the cracked pavement.
In the heart of this simulated urban decay, I stumbled upon a vendor peddling tents. The sagging canvas flaps beckoned to me, promising shelter and opportunity. Without hesitation, I exchanged my sleeping bag for a tent. It was a rudimentary structure, but I saw potential. After all, every skyscraper begins with a foundation, and my tent was my cornerstone.
Back at the virtual office, I set to work. The tent needed a makeover – a touch of aesthetic finesse to attract discerning buyers. I adorned its fabric walls with the same sleeping bag I had traded earlier. The vibrant hues clashed with the drab surroundings, but I believed in the power of contrast. My makeshift interior design skills were put to the test as I arranged the sleeping bag in an inviting manner. Perhaps it was avant-garde; perhaps it was madness. Either way, my tent now boasted a unique selling point: a cozy, mismatched interior.
With my tent transformed, I approached the digital marketplace. The computer screen flickered, revealing an interface reminiscent of stock exchanges. I listed my tent for sale, crafting a persuasive description: "Quaint abode, ideal for minimalist living. Sleeps one (or two if you're cozy). Prime location near pixelated dumpsters."
Days passed, and my inbox remained barren. Doubt crept in – had I misjudged the market? Were virtual homebuyers unimpressed by my sleeping bag aesthetic? But then, a notification: **"Tent Sold!"** The thrill of success surged through my veins. Someone out there appreciated my unconventional approach to real estate.
The transaction was seamless. The buyer, an avatar named **"PixelPioneer,"** wired me virtual currency. I watched the tent vanish from my inventory, leaving behind a sense of accomplishment. The profits weren't astronomical, but they were mine. I had monetized a sleeping bag, transformed a tent, and navigated the intricacies of virtual property sales.
As I reflected on my inaugural venture, I realized that Real Estate Simulator was more than a game. It was a microcosm of entrepreneurship – a sandbox where creativity collided with commerce. My humble tent had become a canvas for innovation, and my sleeping bag, an unexpected asset. In this pixelated world, I learned that success wasn't always about grandiose skyscrapers; sometimes, it was about turning a humble tent into a cozy haven.
And so, with newfound wisdom, I ventured forth. The slums awaited, ripe with untapped potential. Perhaps next time, I'd trade a cardboard box for a duplex or negotiate with a pixelated squirrel for a treehouse. The possibilities were endless, and my entrepreneurial spirit burned brighter than ever.
In the end, Real Estate Simulator wasn't just about profits; it was about imagination, resourcefulness, and the thrill of turning virtual dreams into reality – one tent at a time.
Hello fellow gamers! I'm here playing and livestreaming Real Estate Simulator.
Ready to transform from Broke to Rich while forging your real estate empire?
Start small, strategize for tycoon status. Engage with diverse NPC clients,
oversee properties from affordable to luxurious, and conquer challenges. Ready
to dominate the real estate world? (ProtonVPN » https://go.getproton.me/SHtQ)
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Actor Chris Pratt (Just About Every Movie Franchise) and his wife Katherine Schwarzenegger have just destroyed the 1950 Zimmerman house in Los Angeles so that they could replace it with a massive home "in the modern farmhouse style that has come to dominate US suburbs." — Read the rest
The post Chris Pratt destroys gorgeous, historic mid-century modern house to build a gaudy mansion appeared first on Boing Boing.
Actor Chris Pratt (Just About Every Movie Franchise) and his wife Katherine Schwarzenegger have just destroyed the 1950 Zimmerman house in Los Angeles so that they could replace it with a massive home "in the modern farmhouse style that has come to dominate US suburbs." — Read the rest
As Donald Trump tells it, all of the civil and criminal cases against him are part of a Democratic conspiracy to keep him from returning to the White House. Although some of the many charges against him involve credible allegations of serious crimes, they have been overshadowed recently by two New York cases that are much weaker. In 2016, Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg says, Trump "corrupt[ed] a presidential election" by concealing embar
As Donald Trump tells it, all of the civil and criminal cases against him are part of a Democratic conspiracy to keep him from returning to the White House. Although some of the many charges against him involve credible allegations of serious crimes, they have been overshadowed recently by two New York cases that are much weaker.
In 2016, Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg says, Trump "corrupt[ed] a presidential election" by concealing embarrassing information from voters. And according to New York Attorney General Letitia James, whose lawsuit resulted in a staggering "disgorgement" order against Trump last week, he defrauded lenders and insurers by habitually inflating the value of his assets.
Bragg and James, both Democrats, argue that Trump was dishonest, which will not come as news to anyone who has been paying attention to the persistent gap between reality and his public statements on matters large and small. But neither Bragg nor James has been able to explain exactly who was victimized by the misrepresentations they cite.
Bragg's criminal case, which is now scheduled for trial on March 25, charges Trump with 34 counts of falsifying business records. Each of those is based on an invoice, check, or ledger entry that allegedly was designed to disguise Trump's reimbursement of a $130,000 payment that Michael Cohen, his former lawyer, gave porn star Stormy Daniels shortly before the 2016 election to keep her from talking about her alleged affair with Trump.
Falsifying business records—in this case, mischaracterizing the payments to Cohen as compensation for legal services—is ordinarily a misdemeanor. But Bragg is charging Trump with 34 felonies, each punishable by up to four years in prison, because he allegedly was trying to cover up "another crime."
Bragg says the "criminal activity" that Trump sought to "conceal" included "attempts to violate state and federal election laws." That claim is based on legal interpretations so iffy that Bragg's predecessor, Cyrus R. Vance Jr., rejected them after lengthy consideration.
Explaining why he nevertheless is trying to convert one hush payment into 34 felonies, Bragg complains that Trump "hid damaging information from the voting public during the 2016 presidential election." Although Bragg says that offense is "the heart of the case," it is not a crime: If Daniels had simply agreed not to talk about the alleged affair after Trump asked her nicely, the result would have been the same.
James' case likewise lacks any measurable injury to a specific victim, which is not required by the New York law she used to sue Trump. Although she presented plenty of evidence that Trump overvalued his properties and exaggerated his wealth, she did not show that lenders or insurers suffered any losses as a result.
Most notoriously, Trump claimed his apartment in Manhattan's Trump Tower was 30,000 square feet, nearly three times its actual size. He valued Mar-a-Lago, his golf resort in Palm Beach, based on the assumption that it could be sold for residential purposes, which the deed precluded.
New York County Supreme Court Justice Arthur Engoron also found that the Trump Organization had treated rent-stabilized apartments as if they were not subject to that restriction, assumed regulatory permission for construction that had not in fact been approved, failed to discount expected streams of revenue, dramatically departed from estimates by professional appraisers, and counted Trump's limited partnership interest in a real estate company as cash even though he could not access the money without the company's consent. But the sum that Engoron ordered Trump to pay, which totals nearly half a billion dollars with interest, was styled as "disgorgement" of "ill-gotten gains," not as compensation for damages.
That's because James was not able to identify any damages to lenders or insurers, which she was not legally obliged to do. As in Bragg's case, the striking absence of any injury commensurate with the punishment lends credibility to Trump's reflexive complaint that he is the victim of a partisan vendetta.
In this week's The Reason Roundtable, Katherine Mangu-Ward is in the driver's seat, alongside Nick Gillespie and special guests Zach Weissmueller and Eric Boehm. The editors react to the latest plot twists in Donald Trump's various legal proceedings and the death of Russian opposition leader Alexei Navalny. 00:41—The trials of Donald Trump in Georgia and New York 25:04—Weekly Listener Question 33:23—Sora, a new AI video tool 43:55—The death of Al
In this week's TheReason Roundtable, Katherine Mangu-Ward is in the driver's seat, alongside Nick Gillespie and special guests Zach Weissmueller and Eric Boehm. The editors react to the latest plot twists in Donald Trump's various legal proceedings and the death of Russian opposition leader Alexei Navalny.
00:41—The trials of Donald Trump in Georgia and New York
Send your questions to roundtable@reason.com. Be sure to include your social media handle and the correct pronunciation of your name.
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On Friday, New York County Supreme Court Justice Arthur Engoron ordered Donald Trump to pay a staggering $355 million for repeatedly inflating asset values in statements of financial condition submitted to lenders and insurers. When the interest that Engoron also approved is considered, the total penalty rises to $450 million. All told, Trump and his co-defendants, including three of his children and former Trump Organization CFO Allen Weisselber
On Friday, New York County Supreme Court Justice Arthur Engoron ordered Donald Trump to pay a staggering $355 million for repeatedly inflating asset values in statements of financial condition submitted to lenders and insurers. When the interest that Engoron also approved is considered, the total penalty rises to $450 million. All told, Trump and his co-defendants, including three of his children and former Trump Organization CFO Allen Weisselberg, are on the hook for $364 million, or about $464 million with interest.
On its face, a penalty of nearly half a billion dollars is hard to fathom given that no lender or insurer claimed it suffered a financial loss as a result of the transactions at the center of the case, which was brought by New York Attorney General Letitia James. But the law under which James sued Trump and his co-defendants does not require any such loss. The money demanded by Engoron's 92-page decision, which goes to the state rather than individual claimants, is styled not as damages but as "disgorgement" of "ill-gotten gains." It is aimed not at compensating people who were allegedly harmed by Trump's misrepresentations but at deterring dishonesty that threatens "the financial marketplace."
Proving "common law fraud," Engoron notes, requires establishing that the defendant made a "material" statement he knew to be false, that the plaintiff justifiably relied on that statement, and that he suffered damages as a result. Section 63(12) of New York's Executive Law, by contrast, authorizes the attorney general to sue "any person" who "engage[s] in repeated fraudulent or illegal acts or otherwise demonstrate persistent fraud or illegality in the carrying on, conducting or transaction of business." The attorney general can seek "an order enjoining the continuance of such business activity or of any fraudulent or illegal acts, directing restitution and damages and, in an appropriate case, cancelling" the defendant's business certificate.
"The statute casts a wide net," Engoron observes. It defines "fraud" to include "any device, scheme or artifice to defraud and any deception, misrepresentation, concealment, suppression, false pretense, false promise or unconscionable contractual provisions." Although Engoron found substantial evidence that lenders and insurers relied on the Trump Organization's misrepresentations, the state did not have to prove that they did or that they suffered damages as a result.
"Timely and total repayment of loans does not extinguish the harm that false statements inflict on the marketplace," Engoron writes. "Indeed, the common excuse that 'everybody does it' is all the more reason to strive for honesty and transparency and to be vigilant in enforcing the rules. Here, despite the false financial statements, it is undisputed that defendants have made all required payments on time; the next group of lenders to receive bogus statements might not be so lucky. New York means business in combating business fraud."
Engoron ruled that the appropriate standard of proof was a preponderance of the evidence, which typically applies in civil cases and requires showing that an allegation is more likely than not to be true. "Defendants have provided no legal authority for their contention that the higher 'clear and convincing' standard does, or should, apply," he writes. "A clear and convincing standard applies only when a case involves the denial of, addresses, or adjudicates fundamental 'personal or liberty rights' not at issue in this action."
Engoron had previously ruled that disgorgement of profits is one of the remedies allowed by Section 63(12) in this case. "In flagrant disregard of prior orders of this Court and the First Department [court of appeals], defendants repeat the untenable notion that 'disgorgement is unavailable as a matter of law' in Executive Law §63(12) actions," he wrote in that September 2023 decision, which held that Trump had committed fraud within the meaning of the statute. "This is patently false, as defendants are, or certainly should be, aware that the Appellate Division, First Department made it clear in this very case that '[w]e have already held that the failure to allege losses does not require dismissal of a claim for disgorgement under Executive Law § 63(12).'"
In Friday's decision, Engoron reviews the examples of fraud that he described in the earlier ruling. Most notoriously, they include the claim that Trump's triplex apartment in Manhattan's Trump Tower was 30,000 square feet, nearly three times its actual size. That misrepresentation was included in Trump's statements of financial condition (SFCs) from 2012 through 2016 and was not corrected until after Forbes made the glaring discrepancy public in 2017.
In 2012, former Trump International Realty employee Kevin Sneddon testified, Weisselberg asked him to assess the apartment's value. "In response to the request," Engoron writes, "Sneddon asked Weisselberg if he could see the Triplex, to which Weisselberg responded that that was 'not possible.' Sneddon then asked if Weisselberg could send him a floorplan or specs of the Triplex to evaluate, to which Weisselberg also said 'no.' Sneddon then asked Weisselberg what size the Triplex was, to which Weisselberg responded 'around 30,000 square feet.' Sneddon then used the 30,000 square foot number in ascertaining a value for the Triplex."
The value of Mar-a-Lago, Trump's golf resort in Palm Beach, also figured prominently in the case. The deed to Mar-a-Lago precluded it from ever being used as private residential property, a clause that made it eligible for a lower tax rate. Yet SFCs repeatedly valued Mar-a-Lago as if it could be sold for residential purposes. Engoron notes that Trump "insisted that he believed Mar-a-Lago is worth 'between a billion and a billion five' today, which would require not only valuing it as a private residence, which the deed prohibits, but as more than the most expensive private residence listed in the country by approximately 400%"
Other examples of misrepresentations included treating rent-stabilized apartments as if they were not subject to that restriction, assuming regulatory permission for construction that had not in fact been approved, failing to discount expected streams of revenue, dramatically departing from estimates by professional appraisers, and counting Trump's limited partnership interest in a real estate company as cash even though he could not access the money without the company's consent. More generally, expert testimony indicated, Trump tended to value properties based on rosy "as if" assumptions rather than the "as is" valuations preferred by lenders.
The defendants argued that the accountants charged with compiling the SFCs were responsibile for verifying their accuracy. But as Engoron notes, the accounting firms' role was limited to assembling information provided by the Trump Organization, which they assumed to be accurate. "There is overwhelming evidence from both interested and non-interested witnesses, corroborated by documentary evidence, that the buck for being truthful in the supporting data valuations stopped with the Trump Organization, not the accountants," he says. "Moreover, the Trump Organization intentionally engaged their accountants to perform compilations, as opposed to reviews or audits, which provided the lowest level of scrutiny and rely on the representations and information provided by the client; compilation engagements make clear that the accountants will not inquire, assess fraud risk, or test the accounting records."
Trump also argued that the SFCs were unimportant because lenders and insurers would perform their own due diligence. Engoron was unimpressed by that defense, especially with regard to the insurers. "Because the Trump Organization is a private company, not a publicly traded company," he says, "there is very little that underwriters can do to learn about the financial condition of the company other than to rely on the financial statements that the client provides to them."
Were the Trump Organizations overvaluations "material"? Engoron had already concluded that "the SFCs from 2014-2021 were false by material amounts as a matter of law." Under Section 63(12), he says, materiality "is judged not by reference to reliance by or materiality to a particular victim, but rather on whether the financial statement 'properly reflected the financial condition' of the person to which the statement pertains."
If fraud "is insignificant," Engorion concedes, "then, like most things in life, it just does not matter." But that "is not what we have here," he adds. "Whether viewed in relative (percentage) or absolute (numerical) terms, objectively (the governing standard) or subjectively (how the lenders viewed them), defendants' misstatements were material….The frauds found here leap off the page and shock the conscience."
While there is no precise numerical standard for materiality, Engoron says, "this Court confidently declares that any number that is at least 10% off could be deemed material, and any number that is at least 50% off would likely be deemed material. These numbers are probably conservative given that here, such deviations from truth represent hundreds of millions of dollars, and in the case of Mar-a-Lago, possibly a billion dollars or more."
Did those deviations ultimately matter in the decisions that lenders and insurers made? Engoron's summary provides reason to doubt that they did. Deutsche Bank, he notes, routinely "applied a 50% 'haircut' to the valuations presented by" clients, which a witness "affirmed was the standardized number for commercial real assets." A defense witness opined that lenders generally just want to see "the engagement of a warm body of a billionaire to stand behind the loan in his equity infusion and capital."
James nevertheless argued that Trump, by systematically exaggerating his wealth and the amount of cash he could access, misled lenders about what would happen in the event that the Trump Organization could not meet its obligations. And those misrepresentations, she said, allowed the business to borrow more money on terms more favorable than it otherwise could have obtained.
The difference between the interest rates that lenders charged based on Trump's personal financial guarantee and the rates they would have charged without it was crucial to Engoron's calculation of how much the defendants should disgorge. Over their vigorous objections, he accepted the numbers offered by a state witness, investment bank CEO Michiel McCarty, who compared the rate that Deutsche Bank charged the Trump Organization based on Trump's personal guarantee with the rate it proposed for a loan without that guarantee. By McCarty's calculation, the Trump Organization saved a total of about $168 million in interest on loans for four projects.
By itself, that estimate accounts for nearly half of the disgorgement that Engoron ordered. He also included nearly $127 million in "net profits" from the 2022 sale of the Old Post Office in Washington, D.C., which Trump had converted into a hotel. That deal, James argued, was facilitated "through the use of false SFCs," without which it would not have happened. She also argued that "without the ill-gotten savings on interest rates, defendants would not even have been able to invest in the Old Post Office and/or other projects."
Taking into account the partnership interest "fraudulently labeled as cash," James said, "Trump would have been in a negative cash situation" by 2017 but for the $74 million or so "saved through reduced interest payments." She noted that "the Old Post office loan itself was a construction loan, and its proceeds were necessary to the construction and renovation of the hotel, which enabled the 2022 sale and resulting profits."
Engoron found these arguments, especially the first, persuasive. The profits from the sale of the Old Post Office, he concludes, "were ill gotten gains, subject to disgorgement, which is meant to deny defendants 'the ability to profit from ill-gotten gain.'"
Engoron also counted $60 million in profits from the 2023 sale of a license to operate a golf course at Ferry Point Park in the Bronx, which Trump had obtained from the New York City Department of Parks & Recreation in 2012. "By maintaining the license agreement for Ferry Point, based on fraudulent financials," Engoron says, "Donald Trump was able to secure a windfall profit by selling the license to Bally's Corporation."
Although reliance is not required to prove fraud under Section 63(12), it does implicitly figure in these disgorgement calculations. But for the "fraudulent financials," Engoron assumes, Trump would have had to pay higher interest rates on the four loans, and neither the Ferry Point deal nor the Old Post Office renovation and sale would have happened. The defendants, of course, dispute those counterfactuals.
Explaining the need for continued independent supervision of the Trump Organization, Engoron emphasizes Trump et al.'s "refusal to admit error." After "some four years of investigation and litigation," he says, "the only error (inadvertent, of course) that they acknowledge is the tripling of the size of the Trump Tower Penthouse, which cannot be gainsaid. Their complete lack of contrition and remorse borders on pathological. They are accused only of inflating asset values to make more money. The documents prove this over and over again. This is a venial sin, not a mortal sin. Defendants did not commit murder or arson. They did not rob a bank at gunpoint. Donald Trump is not Bernard Madoff. Yet, defendants are incapable of admitting the error of their ways. Instead, they adopt a 'See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil' posture that the evidence belies."
Engoron "intends to protect the integrity of the financial marketplace and, thus, the public as a whole," he writes. "Defendants' refusal to admit error—indeed, to continue it, according to the Independent Monitor—constrains this Court to conclude that they will engage in it going forward unless judicially restrained. Indeed, Donald Trump testified that, even today, he does not believe the Trump Organization needed to make any changes based on the facts that came out during this trial."
Although Engoron says his court "is not constituted to judge morality," his outrage at Trump's financial dishonesty is palpable. That dishonesty, which is consistent with the ego-boosting lies that Trump routinely tells about matters small (e.g., the size of the crowd at his inauguration) and large (e.g., a presidential election he still insists was "rigged" by systematic fraud), is indeed striking. In this case, however, it did not result in any injuries that Trump's lenders or insurers could identify. Under New York law, Engoron says, that does not matter. But maybe it should.
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