David McElroy

Dishonest people have no incentive to pay rent right now. Why? Because landlords in the U.S. are powerless to do anything about freeloaders.

Let me tell you a story. I won’t mention any names, but I know the case very well. I could point you to the case file at the county courthouse in Birmingham, but it’s a story that’s playing out all over the country.

A woman moved into an apartment last fall. She had a good job that generated plenty of income to pay for the home. But after about three months, she stopped paying rent. For six months, she hasn’t paid a nickel.

She still has her job. She won’t respond to collection efforts. She managed to get herself arrested on drug charges during the winter. The only response she ever made to collection attempts was to send a form letter from the CDC claiming she’s been affected by COVID-19 — she doesn’t have to prove it — so she doesn’t have to pay right now.

And today, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled 5-4 that property owners can’t do anything about this. The people who thought they owned property have discovered they have no right to their property — all because a bureaucrat issued a piece of worthless paper.

This is theft.

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The two women had been talking very quietly, so I hadn’t been paying attention to them. Then the old woman suddenly raised her voice in anger.

“I am not going to let you make the same mistake I made!” she almost shouted.

It was late Sunday afternoon at a slow restaurant. Other than me, they were the only two customers. The younger was about 35; the older might have been 60. Now I was curious what they were talking about, but the woman lowered her voice again.

Now it was the younger woman’s turn to be a little too loud, but her voice was steady and almost cold.

“You really don’t care that I’m miserable, do you, Mother?” she said firmly. “I know what you think I should do. I know you think I have no right to rock the boat or give up all the things you think I should want. But this is my life. I know you hate the choices you made — but I am miserable. And all you can think about is yourself and your miserable life.”

I kept my eyes on my MacBook and didn’t look in their direction.

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I shot a casual photo of Lucy in front of our house this afternoon. She was happy in the warm summer sunshine. And I liked the perspective of the house behind her. It made her seem like the world’s friendliest guard dog.

After I posted the photo in a couple of places, a friend called me to say how much she loved it. Then she asked if I could take the same sort of picture of her dog in front of her house. I hesitated.

My house is an inexpensive old home in a mixed neighborhood. It was built in 1927. It originally didn’t even have running water. (I don’t know when the kitchen and bathroom were added.) I bought it six years ago as a cheap foreclosure. It’s nothing fancy.

My friend’s home is in a high-end suburb in a much nicer part of town. It’s worth about half a million dollars. The house has all the features that modern consumers want. But to anyone who understands symmetry and principles of design beauty, her house is a monstrosity. It’s an ugly crime against design.

How could I explain to my friend that her fancy house would look terrible as a background for her dog? How could I say that without insulting her taste?

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