In college, I listen and I listen to the theories, the half-baked philosophies, and the “I can repeat everything my professors say” parroting.  Most of the time, I just smile and let them squawk, but when the talk moves from theoretical silliness, to down and out silly stupidity, I find I have to speak up.

    A popular phrase that college students like to chirp these days is, “The re-distribution of wealth,” and then they complain that there is too much paperwork associated with their grant money—cue the surreptitious laughter.

     Recently, I had enough.

     I said, “Last year my husband wrote a check to the federal government for 64,000 dollars.  How much more would you like? I mean how much more would do it for you?”

     Committing the first unpardonable sin, I had dared mention concrete money in conjunction with a dreamy liberal abstraction. Everyone became instantly twitchy.

     “In addition to that, my husband and I committed early in our marriage to donate 10% of our income (good times or bad) to charity. A commitment we have kept. By last rough estimate we have donated close to $300,000 dollars to charity over the last thirty years.”

     To this, my well-meaning professor said, “Well, not everyone is as generous as you.”

     I said, “Oh, so you’ll be forcing everyone to do what is right, and that is where you loose me every single time!”

     Every one became itchy and twitching, because force is a curse word on any American college campus where everything should be “free, legal, and easy.”

     When people start yapping about taking from this one, to give to that one my philosophy has become, “You first.”