Eric Sirota – Evictions [Video]

The problem with law is that it’s made of words.

And the problem with words is that they make everything dull,

though the bluntest blades are often the most brutal.

The weapons we most fear are those best camouflaged,

the shrub-green M4 carbine,

or in the courtroom, the term for eviction,

draped in its Latin roots.

The casual banter between expensive men.

How the sheriff maintains calm by simply saying please

and never actually gesturing to the revolver he keeps loaded

and strapped to his hip

should some poor soul get so angry, she’s losing her home,

that the economy’s visible hands decide the only address left

is her own stone-carved name.

There’s no crying in court.

Every desperate eye is a manmade desert.

Cursing the judge who just took your home away

is a jailable offence.

Lying is the worst offence of all.

Though the oath for witnesses doesn’t mention God anymore,

you can tell he’s still in the room,

and that his politics haven’t changed much.

Maybe that fear is what keeps the courtroom calm.

How the judge reaps rented land with the most violent plowshare.

How the sheriff loads his pleasantries with bullets.

Our sterile legalisms and their boring blades.

Our founding documents and the unpaid hands

that molded their parchment.

The U.S. Supreme Court is obsessed with the Magna Carta,

consistently citing the 13th century British legal document

as having a positive influence over U.S. law,

which seems in poor taste not only because it excludes Jews,

Muslims and women from its protections,

but also because it established the exact legal structure

we took arms against.

Then again, as a matter of craft, the document is perfect,

and what’s a little historical erasure in the face of such gorgeous calligraphy?

Drafted in deep purple blue ink that looks nothing like blood

once it’s left the body.

Today I’m representing a veteran in the heart of the midwest

which means all of the judges sound like their moms

were Frances McDormand in Fargo.

And this is how dull knives become seen as safe.

Instead of snarling, “It’s 14 degrees outside

and your family will be on the street tomorrow,”

the judge is soft-spoken, courteous, encouraging.

(in a Midwest accent) “Oh, yah, I’m real sorry, Miss,

but you’re gonna hafta find a place to live.

I’m sure it will be okay though. You’ll just hafta bundle right up

and go somewhere new.”

And the only thing left to say is,

“Your Honor… thank you.”

(applause)