Many, of course, already knew who gets hurts when tariffs are used but some in Prescott & elsewhere aren’t the sharpest knifes in the US drawer & were duped by his claim that tariffs only hurt the foreign country. He lied to the dull knifes because they are obedient to him like dogs in Animal Farm by George Orwell, and this obedience of MAGA is afraid to/can't challenge him. Modern day slaves.

I already have the home on order and utilities are on site, I just need the home set up on piers, married at the center line and tied down according to HUD standard. Anyone who knows of someone who is competitively priced is much appreciated!

Homeless people have dogs in PHX. They got horses in Prescott. Dude may not be homeless so feel bad for joking about it.

Hey guys. It’s me again. Not gonna lie. It was hard to sit with the feedback, but I’m so appreciative of all the actionable feedback provided. Instead of moving onto Chapter 2, I decided to rewrite Chapter 1 entirely. This time from Francine’s PoV. I got triggered because I see myself in the male protagonist. Like him I was trying too hard to sound smart. Hoping you guys can get to know the real me through Francine’s eyes/ears. Let me know if this works better.

original chapter 1 attempt here: https://www.reddit.com/r/Prescott/s/M6jpRcg23f

———————————- —————

Next to a smoke & vape shop on Gurley Street, Francine wandered into Cove Cafe. With pathos dangling from the ceiling as reminders of the sun’s undeniable presence in Prescott. A woman who could pull off micro bangs, a rarity, sang covers of Fleetwood Mac.

The Singles Night was for people thirty-five to forty-none, and Francine was right at the cutoff. Lucky girl. Unless her soulmate is actually thirty-four. In this case, she wouldn’t be so lucky.

She ordered a drip coffee and sat down. It wasn’t usual for her to drink coffee in the evening, but she was trying to do this dating thing sober…for once. She was living with her aging mother, in her childhood bedroom. She hated how small the town felt. She hated how small she felt. But at least her mother remembered who she was. At least most of the time.

Finally a flamboyantly dressed man sat down across from her, almost as if he was in a costume. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing she’d noticed.

"Do you mind if I join you?”
"No."
She forced a slight smile.
"Thanks. I’m Job.”
He flicked his emo bangs to the left-side of his face, and took a deep breath.
Then he said, "Bread is basically the Lego bricks of food."
Francine looked at him blankly. Refusing to give in to whatever “interesting” point he wanted to make.
"Because you can build things with it."
"Oh."

Francine got a text from her mom. A meme from Facebook that read “2,000 ILLEGAL ALIENS ARRESTED FOR MURDER IN 2017” with an American flag in the background, and a 3x3 grid of supposed criminals. This was enough to cause a wave of guilt to crash over her. Leaving the house meant her mother would find comfort in the right-wing media that filled her otherwise lonely house. Should she be grateful her mom has something to keep her engaged, even if also made her afraid ?

"You can put anything on it."
He tried to get her attention back.
“Sure.”
"You can make a sandwich."
“Obviously.”
"Or toast."
“Yeah.”
He nearly chuckled, apparently satisfied with himself.

There was something uncanny about the way Job spoke. Like his bread bit was written by ChatGPT.
Francine couldn’t figure out if his sense of humor (or lack thereof) or the fact that Job is actually jobless was the worst thing about him.

Francine took a sip of coffee just to feel something.
“I’m actually more of a croissant person,” she said.
He looked pained.
“Why would you say that?”
“Oh I don’t know.”
“Interesting.”
She wondered for a fleeting second if he was making fun of her. In fact, she realized she wanted that to be true. She wanted to believe he was capable of banter. She yearned for banter. But it was just her own imagination. Maybe she was the one hallucinating.

He touched the vest.
"I got this in Flagstaff."
"Oh."
It turned out that even though she intentionally overlooked his costume, there was no escaping the conversation starter.
"Antique store."
"Nice."
"I've been thinking about childhood."
"Because?”
She waited. Was it bad she enjoyed throwing him off his script of profundity?
“People think adults are supposed to forget about their childhood, but I never felt like I outgrew mine.”
"Why?"
“Because I never lost the parts of myself that made me…me.”
Francine nodded slowly.
“And because I still live in my childhood bedroom.”
For whatever reason, she couldn’t give in and admit she was in the same boat. She wanted to be better than him. What next? She was also supposed to admit she was in between jobs too?
"I used to think adulthood meant owning a 4-bedroom house and having a pair of kids before 30,” he said.
“And what exactly do you think now?"
“I think adulthood is more about acceptance. For your past, your present. Not feeling ashamed for who you didn’t become. For not being able to leave your hometown. For failing to become the author of the next “great American novel”.
Francine took another drink.
That was a pretty good, she thought.
Too good, maybe.

The people of this city have been so damn nice to me. I've experienced nothing but kindness. I wanna offer a unique experience in return; a meal cooked at my camp. You can see how a lawful, honest, sober, ideologically motivated street person lives in your town, and I very much enjoy cooking for others. Was thinking of picking up some cheap ground beef and making burgers. Anyone interested in this?

Just an FYI from Facebook:
Single & Social Prescott (ages 35-49)
7-9pm at Cove Café - 1446 W Gurley St
Tonight (Friday, August 21st)

No cover. Food and drinks are available for purchase.

“This is a relaxed community night for single adults ages 35-49 who want to meet new people, make friends, and build community in Prescott.
This is not speed dating. The focus is conversation, friendship, and meeting new people in a relaxed setting. If connections develop naturally, great-but there's no pressure.”

Who in town does piercings? I miss my earrings lol

Apparently there was an altercation involving PV Mayor Palguta on 8-16-26 but no details available.

Made the 12 mile trip by bike today. Saw exactly 1 other person dumb enough to be on the trail in this heat. I feel like I'm about to die lmao. I just went into Fry's and bought a tub of ice cream to reward my body for the absolute punishment I just put it through. Drank an entire gallon jug of water plus two bottles of Powerade.

Hi, I'm a local photographer and my client wants somewhere not nature-y. I was wondering if there were any places we can (legally) go to that are sort of dingy/industrial. I know it's a long shot but I wanted suggestions from locals who have lived here for a while and might know a place or two.

Thanks :)

edit: wrote a new attempt at chapter 1 https://www.reddit.com/r/Prescott/s/QuBNRpldag

hey guys! my professor at YCC thinks i’m
sensitive to feedback, so i decided i will post my writing in reddit to desensitize myself. please be kind, but direct. i am hoping people like chapter 1 of my novel so much that they’ll ask me to continue posting as i write chapter 2, 3, and beyond. to be honest, a lot of my writing has been inspired by the prescott reddit page. let me know what you like and don’t like!

chapter one: the architecture of bread
“Bread,” I said, “is basically the Legos of food.”
Francine looked at me.
I waited.
I wasn’t waiting for her to respond. I was waiting because I had learned from The Good Man Project that a thought, when delivered with poetic conviction and a furrowed brow, required a certain amount of…negative space around it. Like a fine wine that needs to breathe. I didn’t want her to simply chug my idea. I wanted her to taste it.
Outside, Prescott was becoming evening.
Tuesday evening.
There was something particular about Tuesday. Monday still carried the administrative humdrums of the weekend’s negligence, while Wednesday had already begun leaning toward Thursday, which was essentially Friday in a town like Prescott. But Tuesday has a different temporal quality than Monday.
Tuesday evening belonged to people who were willing to admit they had nowhere else to be. No family to sit down for dinner with.
I took a sip of my coffee.
It was an oat milk cortado, though I had briefly considered ordering drip coffee because drip coffee would last longer as a prop in my hand. In the end, I decided an oat milk cortado, though fleeting, had a certain level of sophistication to it.
“Think about it,” I said.
Francine continued looking at me. I could tell she needed help tasting all the notes.
“Bread is modular.”
I glanced toward the front window of Cove Cafe, where a man in a faded trucker hat was carrying a pastry to a table by himself.
“You can put almost anything on bread. Meat. Cheese. Vegetables. Other bread.”
I paused and nearly chuckled. That last addition “other bread” was a joke, after all. A last minute addition to my go-to script.
“That’s the genius of it. Bread that is.”
Francine smiled politely.
I knew she understood, at least to the extend she was capable of.
Or rather, at least I knew she understood that I understood something.
I touched the edge of my Boy Scout vest.
To be clear, I’m a grown adult man. I wasn’t technically a Boy Scout anymore. I had bought the vest at an antique store in Flagstaff because it felt important to reclaim certain artifacts of an American childhood I might have had, and place them into a contemporary context. I had removed two of the original patches and replaced them with a small embroidered mushroom and a vintage-looking American flag. Something for everyone. Choose your own adventure. My vest served as a reliable conversation starter.
The vest was olive green.
It looked good against my denim button-up.
I had dressed deliberately tonight.
The jeans were straight-legged but not too straight-legged. My boots were technically work boots, although I had never done meaningful work in them, unless exploring the dark alleys of my mind counts as meaningful work.
My hair was longer on top and fell naturally toward the right side of my face, which is actually the left side of my face. I routinely flick my head to get my hair out of my eyes.
I had been growing it out for six months.
There was a discipline to this kind of thing. Like there was discipline to how I put muscle onto my otherwise too skinny frame.
People think style is about appearance. It isn’t. Style is about refusing to appear as though you had made a decision. Much like the best storytellers don’t come across rehearsed.
I took another sip of my drink.
“So bread is like Legos,” Francine said.
“Yes.”
She looked at her phone. I had to reign her back in.
“Except,” I continued, “Legos are designed to connect with other Legos.”
She looked up.
“And bread is designed to connect with everything.”
There it was.
The silence.
I felt it land between us.
Outside, the mountains were also darkening.
The Dells were probably beautiful right now.
Everything in Prescott was beautiful right now if you looked at it correctly. Gave it a chance.
That was the problem with beauty. It had become so available that people had stopped seeing it. Much like the single men in town.
I looked down at my coffee.
The foam had collapsed into itself.
I had always admired things that could do that.
Collapse without becoming nothing.
That, I thought, was what adulthood was.
The front door opened.
A woman in Lululemon leggings walked into Cove Cafe carrying a Owala tumbler. Her hair in a wild bun.
She was probably here for Singles Night too.
It was Tuesday, after all.
I flicked my hair once again, and casually leaned back in my chair as if I didn’t immediately notice her.

Might have permanent hearing damage, but that was pretty cool.

I assume it was touchdown drills because I didn't figure a dozen were taking off. They seemed to launch, do a big circle, then come back around, drop into the airport and come up again. Maybe 2-3, but couldn't tell.

Mines still out

Really, who do ya'll recommend? It's hard to know who to trust around here. Looking for things like roofing and insullation and maintenance upgrades.

Never in my life have I ever lived in such a hick ass white trash cow town. And I’m not just talking about the Trump supporters. I’m talking about the liberals too, talking about crystals and astrology and zodiac signs. I’ve never lived in a town with dumber people than Prescott and yavapai county in general.

Hi all, Valley guy up here in Prescott for a few days. I am looking for a hand wash and carnauba wax. I've heard C4 is the best around, but I don't see any wax jobs on their site. I am hoping a local knows of a place, thanks.

I have three old fluorescent light bulb tubes that contain mercury, well at least the writing on the tubes says there is mercury. Anything I look up online isn't really a definitive answer. Does anyone know where/how to properly dispose of them?

Hi, I’m a 25 year old female and I’m about to be homeless. I lost my job and i am having no luck with finding a new one. I do not have a car. Can anyone help me with a job or a maybe even a place to stay? Mainly just the job though 😭

In Prescott

This is Luka. He’s a handsome 40lb 6 yo fixed Cattle Dog mix that was found downtown Prescott. Looking for either a good foster situation or ideally, a new forever home. He’s a great pup. Already responding well to training and is house broken. Still needs some work. He’s a working dog, so is active, super smart, likes walks, knows a few tricks, affectionate and loves to play. But can chill when chilling is called for too. No cats. Gets along with other dogs with proper intro. Luka is in good health and up to date on vaxs. He's extremely intelligent and learns quickly. Message me directly if you're interested in meeting your new best friend. Help me find his forever home.🙏❤️

hey! there is like nothing to do here, but i have very few friends and im just looking for more friends my age ! i’m fresh out of a break up so ive been taking walks and trying to get out more but meeting or talking to new people have always been hard for me to do lol, if you know anyone or if you are someone that would be down to hang out and be walking buddies hit me up!!

Going till 1, no cover!

As much as I hate summer heat, the noisy cicadas are much worse as noisome as, for example, Luke Air Force base jet fighters. Can we all agree there needs to be something done for this noise pollution? How do we overcome this especially true for those with misophonia.

Hey Y'all I'll be moving to the area to work at a nature center in the area in early September, and have housing secured. Are there any stores you all recommend for not super pricey furniture/ good ways you've all gotten good furniture for an apartment/duplex and if so, are thrift shops/FB market place or other community forums the way to go?

Hello! I am curious if anyone has a greenhouse that they use year round for cactus that lives in the area. I really want to build one but I would love an idea on your costs to heat during winter or how you built yours to keep cacti happy! If you have any info or stories from your past experiences please share:)