Entry 36 - Putting the "Lord" Back in Slumlord - An Existential Review of the Slumlord Experience

You already know whether you're a slumlord or not; he11, we had that conversation weeks ago. By now, you've gnawed those Walmart fingernails of yours down to nubbins, quivering in the dark corner of your bedroom and mumbling through the foot-long string of drool dangling from your lip: "Am I a bad person? Do slumlords deserve to live? Just how qualified am I for forced euthanasia in the People's Republic of America?"

But have no fear! I'm here to tell you that slumlords are people too, d@mmit, and we should be lionized, idolized, held up as epitomes of self-actualization. In short, I'm putting the LORD back in slumlord.

So what's so good about slumlords, anyway?

I'm so glad you asked! Someone has to own and manage "affordable housing," and keep it that way, and there are two alternatives to private real estate investors owning low-end properties: corporations, and the government. Either corporations can own and manage low-end properties with the caring and sensitivity that they display with their mass livestock farms, or the government can run them like they... well, like they already do! There's a word for government-owned "affordable housing:" the projects, or Pojects if you're too po' to pronounce the R. It may also be worth noting that we ALL pay for the public projects, whereas only slumlords pay for low-end housing investment.

Hopefully, this establishes why our society, as a whole, needs slumlords. But wait, we also need jizmoppers (name that movie!), and we don't celebrate THEIR social standing… why should slumlords be apotheosized?

The "it's a dirty job but somebody has to do it" logic is flawed, because it fails to account for the physical valor and prowess displayed by slumlords nationwide. After all, who else among you is brave enough to venture into the underworld of gangs, pimps, sex offenders, and Tyrone's Fried Chicken (real picture of one in Baltimore above - I took that one day while visiting an investment property), day after day, week after week? And who else, among mere mortals, has outrun an angry Kentucky pervert caught wiping off his sister's chin? This is the stuff of legend, of mythology; epic poems will be recited about your exploits in two thousand years from now.

But the justification of our lordship doesn't end there. Private slumlords, in their infinite generosity, often offer their tenants the option to purchase their home, their small castle, their own little piece of the American dream, for a nominal purchase price, mildly usurious seller-held mortgage interest, denial of buyer's agent protection in the transaction, and the serfdom of their firstborn daughter. After all, someone has to get to her before the local pimp... slumlords are really doing her a favor.

Then there's the fact that slumlords provide free demonstrations on innovative and ingenious uses of duct tape, super glue, and plywood. These are useful survival skills for today's poor; after all, these are the only home improvement supplies within their price index! You're providing real life, hands-on home remodeling tips and skills, totally free of charge… Ma Theresa would be proud.

So the next time someone disparages you for being a slumlord, recount for them (in the metered stanzas appropriate to the epic nature of your being) your exploits as a demigod, roaming the landscapes of broken tractors and barred windows, your philanthropic efforts offering practical education and socioeconomic betterment, and the foundations in market economics for your privileged and proud existence.

Viva Las Slumlords!