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Experts Call It “A Common Shift,” Homebuyers Call It “A Racket”

The housing market has taken a winter nap, according to Sierra Nevada Realtors, who have now graciously lumped condos and townhomes in with regular houses—presumably so the numbers don’t look quite so pitiful. January saw 49 sales of existing homes, condos, and townhomes, which amounts to a 33.8 percent drop from the previous month—a number that would make any seller feel like they’d been kicked square in the front of their britches. Yet, strangely enough, this was still an improvement over last year because, much like a man drowning in a river who finally finds a floating log, sometimes even bad news looks like progress.

The median sale price in Carson City wobbled down to $550,000, a minuscule 0.7 percent drop from December, which might seem like a silver lining until one remembers that half a million dollars used to buy a mansion with a yard big enough to graze a horse, rather than a two-bedroom home with a yard just big enough to stand in and wonder where all the money went.

Lyon County saw 73 sales, with prices steady at $375,000, proving nothing else save the folks know how to hold a line. Over in Churchill County, 14 sales were recorded, with prices at $376,000, because one more thousand dollars makes all the difference. Douglas County wasn’t so lucky, with only 29 homes sold and prices jumping 9.2 percent over last month but tumbling 10.7 percent from last year, which is the kind of up-and-down excitement one usually expects from a bucking bronco, not a housing market.

Meanwhile, in Washoe County—excluding Incline Village–because everyone knows the real estate market is overpriced around Lake Tahoe—there were 516 new listings and 364 closed sales. The median price slid down to $525,000, a 3.7 percent dip from last month but a 2.9 percent rise from last year. Inventory is up 24.2 percent from last year.

All in all, the housing market remains about as predictable as a desert thunderstorm—which is to say, everybody claims to know what’s coming, but in the end, we all get wet and wonder what happened.

Again

Every year, like a mule with a stubborn streak, Nevada lawmakers dust off the old dream of ridding the state of daylight saving time, and every year, the dream stumbles, wheezes, and collapses before reaching the finish line. They trot the same old tired horse out of the stable, check its teeth, threaten to reshoe it, and then—after much speechifying and hand-wringing—lock it back in the barn till the next session.

This time, the hopeful wranglers of common sense are Northern Nevada legislators Selena La Rue Hatch and Dr. Robin Titus, who have introduced two bills to keep Nevada on Pacific Standard Time year-round. These bright-eyed reformers will have their first crack at daylight saving’s hide come Monday morning at 8 o’clock, when the bills are scheduled for a hearing—an ironic hour, considering most folks at that time are still suffering the consequences of the last time the clocks got jerked around.

Now, federal law does allow states to exempt themselves from daylight saving time, and a few have done so—Arizona, for instance, had the good sense to opt out years ago, sparing itself the twice-yearly confusion of waking up to realize the government has stolen or gifted an hour without so much as a by-your-leave. Should Nevada’s bills survive the legislative gauntlet, the Silver State would finally break free from the madness and let its citizens go about their business without the government fiddling with the very passage of time.

But if history is any guide, the old nag of a proposal will get led behind the barn and shot once more, only to mysteriously resurrect itself next session, looking just as fresh and doomed as ever.

If You Ask a Politician

Congressional Republicans have turned their attention to Medicaid, and naturally, the folks in Nevada’s halls of power are wringing their hands and predicting doom. State officials warn that if the federal government stops doling out matching funds for low-income folks, the Silver State stands to lose a whopping $1.9 billion over the next two years—which, by politician math, means we might as well start digging mass graves now.

The expansion–originally dreamed up during President Obama’s administration, has since wrapped its comforting arms around 800,000 Nevadans—roughly one in four residents—and now, like any government giveaway, it has become something between a birthright and a sacred cow. State Senate Majority Leader Nicole Cannizzaro all but sounded the bugle for the death of public services, warning that if the feds tighten their purse strings, the state budget will have to follow suit, and dear reader, that is the one thing a politician loathes above all else.

But let’s not get carried away. These so-called cuts are not cuts at all. The Trump administration is simply shaking the dust and varmints out of the federal wallet, hoping to trim some of the waste fattening up on Medicaid dollars since the program’s expansion. It’s a bit like discovering your horse eats twice as much as it works—at some point, you have to ask whether you’re running a ranch or a charity for lazy livestock.

The House budget could lead to $880 billion in reductions, which Representative Steven Horsford says is a tragedy since his grandmother once faced trouble due to Medicaid cuts. An honest man might ask if it’s good governance to run the country based on one man’s grandmother, but honesty and Congress have rarely been seen in the same room together.

As it stands, the federal government currently covers 90 percent of Medicaid costs for the expansion population. A new plan would dial that back to around 60 percent—leaving Nevada with a tab of $6.7 billion over nine years. It’s the sort of arithmetic that sends state lawmakers into a cold sweat and suggests they might have to make tough choices instead of merely blaming Washington.

The Affordable Care Act allowed Nevada a chance to expand Medicaid, and for a while, the uninsured rate tumbled from 22 percent to 12 percent. But as anyone with a lick of sense knows, free things don’t stay free forever.

With budget hawks in Congress sharpening their knives and Nevada officials clutching their socks, the only certainty is that before the dust settles, there’ll be enough grandstanding to make the Fourth of July parade look humble.

With a Side of Sheep Tragedy

Gather ‘round, you little buckaroos and pint-sized daredevils, for the 3rd Annual Mutton Bustin’ Jackpot is throwin’ open its gates, and if you’ve got the nerve to straddle a woolly tornado, now’s your chance. Dare To Be A Cowboy announced Thursday that the contest is officially taking sign-ups, and you’d best be quick as there are only 60 slots available, and every overenthusiastic parent with a pint-sized wrangler is already elbowing their way to the front of the line.

The grand spectacle of youthful determination–and occasional airborne dismounts–takes place at the Carson City Fairgrounds on May 10, where the brave and the wool-clad will have a chance to earn their spot riding in front of a sold-out Reno Rodeo crowd on June 22. That’s right—a child, a sheep, and the wild ambitions of rodeo glory colliding under the bright lights.

Naturally, there are rules to ensure safety and fairness, such as age and weight restrictions. After all, it is a test of grit, not an endurance challenge for an unsuspecting sheep. But for those who qualify, it’s an opportunity to build courage, confidence, and possibly a lifetime of fond rodeo memories—provided they don’t get bucked straight into the concession stand.

Now, while these young riders prepare for their moment in the spotlight, let’s turn our attention to an incident of mutton misfortune that unfolded near Lovelock earlier this week.

Authorities in Pershing County report that nearly 40 sheep met an untimely end early Tuesday morning when a vehicle plowed into the flock on Upper Valley Road. Unlike the young hopefuls at the Mutton Bustin’ Jackpot, these particular sheep were neither saddled nor seeking glory—just minding their business until an inattentive driver turned them into mutton cakes.

The Pershing County Sheriff’s Office quickly said that no humans were injured, nor were any dogs harmed—despite the Internet’s penchant for inventing tragedies to go with the actual ones. While impairment is not suspected, authorities believe driver inattention played a role, which is a gentle way of saying, “Somebody wasn’t watching the road and turned a quiet morning into a wool-filled catastrophe.”

So, to sum it up: some sheep will get ridden, some sheep will get mourned, and somewhere in between, there’s a lesson about paying attention—whether it’s keeping your balance in the rodeo arena or keeping your eyes on the road.

Birth and Death at the Hands of the Law

The Nevada Legislature, never one to let consistency get in the way of lawmaking, has introduced Senate Bill 217, which would enshrine in vitro fertilization (IVF) as a right under state law. That’s right, folks—the very same political outfit that declared abortion a sacred right has now taken up the banner of birth promotion, proving once and for all that if there’s a political principle at work here, it’s the principle of legislating by contradiction.

One moment, they insist unborn life is an inconvenience best removed, and the next, they declare that science must step in where nature hesitates, with government-mandated protections to ensure every desired baby gets its fair shot at existence—at least, the ones that make it past the petri dish stage. Talk about a two-headed clown.

IVF, as Yale Medicine explains, is a procedure where an egg meets a sperm in a laboratory dish, after which scientists play a game of “pick the winner.” But SB 217 doesn’t just expand access to IVF—it rewrites the very definition of human life to accommodate modern sensibilities.

Under this bill, a fertilized human embryo, in any stage before it takes up residence in a uterus, “is not an unborn child, a minor child, a person, a natural person, or any other term that connotes a human being.” In other words, the state now reserves the right to declare when life begins—not science, not common sense, and certainly not God.

Senate Majority Leader Nicole Cannizzaro, D-Las Vegas, proclaimed IVF procedures “deserve strong legal protections” as though the fate of fertilized embryos was the real issue rather than the inconvenient moral tightrope the legislature now walks. One day, it’s a clump of cells with no rights, and then it’s the miraculous outcome of medical science.

This flurry of lawmaking comes just one day after President Donald Trump signed an executive order expanding IVF rights. In true Trumpian fashion, his order laid out the stark reality—IVF treatments cost anywhere from $12,000 to $25,000 per cycle—a steep price for would-be parents, but an even steeper one when considering that as of March 2024, over one million frozen embryos sit in limbo across America, waiting to be selected, discarded, or donated.

According to the National Library of Medicine, from 2004 to 2019, fewer than 8,500 donated embryos resulted in live births—a stark reminder that for all the legislative fanfare, the fate of these embryos is often no different from those deemed inconvenient in the womb.

So, what have we learned? Life–in the eyes of a Nevada lawmaker–is a matter of convenience—to be discarded when unwanted, manufactured when desired, and redefined whenever politically expedient.

And the best part? You get to pay for it, one way or another.

It is a truth universally acknowledged—except, perhaps, in the hallowed halls of the U.S. Senate—that where the parents go, the children go. It has been the practice of civilized nations since time immemorial. Yet Nevada Senators Catherine Cortez Masto and Jacky Rosen have taken it upon themselves to challenge this natural order with the Born in the USA Act, a bill designed to block President Trump’s attempt to end automatic citizenship for children of illegal immigrants.

Now, sensible folk might reckon that if a person sneaks into a country uninvited, their offspring ought not to be handed the keys to the city. But the honorable senators, bless their hearts, seem to think otherwise.

Their bill, in effect, declares that so long as a mother can waddle across the border before delivering, she has accomplished something more impressive than childbirth—she has produced a brand-new American citizen! And all without so much as a pledge of allegiance or a working knowledge of the Constitution.

“President Trump can’t change the Constitution with a swipe of his pen,” said Cortez Masto, with the confidence of a woman who believes she has cornered the market on legal interpretation.

Never mind the Fourteenth Amendment’s ‘subject to the jurisdiction thereof’ clause has never been definitively ruled upon by the Supreme Court. One might think the senator is unaware of this detail—or worse, simply uninterested.

Senator Rosen, determined not to be outdone, declared, “The U.S. Constitution is abundantly clear.”

If that were true, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, would we? But clarity has never been the strong suit of those in Washington, particularly when it interferes with a preferred narrative.

Both senators have a long history of advocating for policies that smooth the road for illegal immigration, whether it be protecting Temporary Protected Status (TPS) holders, pushing for Dreamer citizenship, or even allowing non-citizens to work in Congress. One might suspect their enthusiasm for immigration reform is less about compassion and more about importing a fresh batch of future voters who will keep them in office until the earth stops spinning.

Meanwhile, Trump’s order moves forward, and the people of Nevada—those who, inconveniently for their senators, voted overwhelmingly for the man—are left wondering if their voices carry any weight. But Washington, D.C., has its peculiar laws of physics, and in that upside-down world, it seems the only thing that truly matters is whose hand holds the pen, not whether it has any business writing the rules in the first place.

Whether It Works or Not

The noble legislators of Nevada are once again donning their armor and mounting their steeds in the grand and time-honored battle against sky-high rent, this time hoping to shield the state’s seniors and disabled folks from the unkind hands of landlords with a 10 percent cap on rent increases.

A similar bill got flung into the legislative furnace in 2023, where Governor Joe Lombardo had to put it out of its misery with a swift veto, no doubt fearing for the delicate welfare of Nevada’s ever-struggling real estate moguls. But hope springs eternal, and Assemblywoman Sandra Jauregui is back in the saddle, insisting that unless something gets done, the Silver State’s elderly and disabled will be left to choose between rent and supper, or worse—rent and dignity.

Of course, not everyone is swooning over the idea. The Nevada Association of Realtors are clutching their ear lobes, warning that capping rents might do more harm than good. If landlords ain’t free to raise the rent, they might do something drastic—like sell their properties outright or leave them vacant out of sheer spite, shrinking the rental market.

Tourist towns could take a wallop as the measure might put the kibosh on short-term rentals, cutting off the steady flow of wide-eyed travelers eager to fork over their dollars for overpriced weekend stays.

Then there’s the matter of enforcement. The government will have to put together some manner of “Rent Sheriff’s Office” to ensure that every landlord toes the line, meaning more paperwork, more bureaucracy, and—if history teaches us anything—more opportunities for confusion, inefficiency, and a few well-placed bribes to keep things moving smoothly.

And, lest we forget, some landlords might take things underground, switching to unrecorded cash deals faster than a gambler spotting an easy mark. The result? Tenants could end up with even fewer protections, less oversight, and no legal recourse when the landlord decides it’s time to up the ante.

So here we are, standing at the crossroads of good intentions and unintended consequences, as our fearless lawmakers decide whether legislating against greed is a noble pursuit or a fool’s errand. Will this bill keep Nevada’s most vulnerable indoors, warm, and well-fed—or will it backfire like an old shotgun and leave them worse off than before?

One thing is for sure–rent–like death and taxes, always finds a way to go up.

Thursday night saw a bit of frontier justice doled out on the hardwood, and it was the Virginia City Muckers holding the gavel. In a contest that left little room for argument, they sent the Eureka Vandals packing with a 65-44 drubbing, marking the third straight time the boys from Eureka have tried and failed to unseat their Nevada rivals.

The Vandals, now sitting at 18-7, fought with all the grit you’d expect, but the Muckers were simply too much—slicker, sharper, and deadlier when it counted. That win pushes Virginia City to a sterling 23-3 record, a tally made all the more impressive by their ongoing habit of leaving townsfolk in stunned silence—this being their 19th straight road victory dating back to last season.

With Eureka officially out of the saddle for the season, Virginia City now sets its sights on a fresh scrap with Spring Mountain this Friday at 8:00 p.m. The boys from down south are riding in with an 11-game winning streak, no doubt thinking they’ve got another one in the bag. But if history’s got a say in it, they’ll find the Muckers ready, willing, and fully capable of rearranging their plans.

Mark your almanacs, hitch up the wagon, and prepare for a night that’ll shake the dust off chandeliers! On the evening of Saturday, March 29, at the esteemed Piper’s Opera House, the Renegade Orchestra is set to put on a spectacle unlike any the old town has seen.

Now, don’t go expectin’ your typical prim-and-proper symphony, where folks sit stiff as fence posts and nod off betwixt movements. No, sir! Here is an orchestra that’s tossed out the rule book, set fire to the ashes, and stomped the embers for good measure. They take the highfalutin’ elegance of violins and cellos and mix it with the unbridled thunder of classic rock—like Beethoven and Led Zeppelin had a fistfight, and both won.

Clapping? Encouraged. Cheering? Required. General hoopin’ and hollerin’? Well, if the spirit moves you, who’s to stop it?

So, if you’re hankering for music that rips, roars, and rattles the floorboards, best get a seat. And if you don’t, well, you’ll have to live with the regret of missing a night where culture and calamity make a joyful racket together.

Quietly, since losing my position writing news for the Comstock Chronicle, I’ve been busy substacking Nevada news at https://substack.com/@sagebrushwriter. Please feel free to visit. I am pretty much irreverent, which is to say that I am not following the well-established practices of journalism — but rather those of a smart-ass.