College Education Run Amok

Melissa ClickA University President is forced to resign by an unruly mob of entitled brats and few people even dare to question why. (No sir, not gonna touch that race card! Don’t wanna be branded a racist. No way…) College students are emboldened by the executive lynching at the University of Missouri and now embark upon their own tirades launched on myriad campuses across the country. Why on earth didn’t the Board of Regents step in and end this nonsense? Does anyone wonder why today’s silent majority is angry? Let’s take a look at what is happening here.

In Missouri, students who apparently believe time has stood still since 1950 rallied to their own cause; aided and abetted by no shortage of professors (and coaches, apparently) as they demanded new leadership due to the the outgoing administration’s alleged lack of response to racial injustice. Really?

It would not surprise the reader to know that the roots of this latter day revolution germinated in a not too far away place called Ferguson. The reader may recall that in the aftermath of the unfortunate death of one Michael Brown, the then Attorney General (AG) of the United States bent over backward to find fault with the policeman’s actions that led to Brown’s shooting. Alas, after months of enquiry, (including an attempt to see if the grand jury that could not find fault could somehow itself be faulted) the AG quietly exited stage left. (When that man exited, it was always the left side of any metaphoric stage.)

Why do we suppose no charges were ever filed? Why do we suppose the federal government, after ratcheting up tensions in the immediate aftermath of the event, (thus arguably becoming a catalyst for the riots that ensued) silently disappeared from the discourse? Could it be that in the cold light of scrutiny, the overwhelming evidence was that Michael Brown’s skin color was wholly irrelevant? Could it be that Michael Brown’s own actions led to his death? God forbid, could it be that the policeman in question (whose life has been turned upside down) simply did his job and acted in self-defense?

And yet Michael Brown became a rallying cry for Black Lives Matter. Michael Brown became kindling for the oratorical fire spewed from the mouths of the likes of Al Sharpton. Michael Brown was all any agitator needed to incite those who are always ready, willing, and very able to be incited.

What better place to create chaos than on today’s college campus; fertile grounds for dissent from coast to coast. You see, liberal progressives are now reaping that which they have sown. For the past forty years, we have seen colleges and universities work assiduously to distance themselves from virtually anything that can possibly be associated with American exceptionalism. For that matter, university curriculums seem to want nothing to do with acknowledging the roadmap that takes us from the early 17th century to today. It is as though our entire development as a nation, and the very tenets held dear by our Founding Fathers, are facts to be swished under the carpet in one big broom-swept attempt to purge our entire country of anything to do with why we are what we are today.

Today’s mollycoddled students and the ocean of professors who fill their brains with revisionist bullhunky deserve each other. Please tell me that you can at least can enjoy the precious irony of these muckrakers trying to stifle the opinions of any dissenter who even dares question their tactics or points of view! You see, along with trying to rewrite history, the progressive elites who have hijacked our college and universities also have forgotten what real Liberals should never forget. Just consider the actions and words of Professor Melissa Click (pictured hereon) who actually called for “muscle” to push a student reporter away from photographing the Missouri protest scene. Mr. Rogers, can you spell “totalitarian”?

Dissent is as American as apple pie, and the ability to treat well reasoned dissent with respect lies at the core of the traditional Liberal value system. But today’s liberals (note, no capital L) are anything but yesterday’s Liberals. Today’s liberals are nothing but a mob, lurching from one cause to another, and wholly incapable of even listening to another viewpoint. To be honest, I think these people would be very comfortable with the elimination of the First Amendment. Freedom of speech is an inconvenience to them.

What a shame we have people teaching our children who can’t even see how far they have fallen. What a shame their myopia has jaundiced them into state of politically correct dyspeptic shock. They are wholly incapable of reasoned discourse. It is their way or the highway, because they are on a mission from God! (Well, maybe not, because many of them do not believe in God. Just sayin’…) I repeat, these people are teaching our children!

I grew up being taught by WWII veterans. When Mr. Ferret taught me math, I knew there was no ulterior motive. The same is true for Mr. Woods teaching Latin, or Mr. Tighe helping us through English classes. We didn’t mess around with these teachers. They meant business!

When I went to college, I could spot a professor on a mission a mile away. I gravitated toward those who want to teach, full stop. I am glad I could detect the difference. Unfortunately, most kids today don’t know the difference. I feel sorry for today’s college professor who doesn’t spend all day lecturing on the tormented and disadvantaged lives of all students who are not heterosexual white anglo-saxons. He or she must be lonely! Woe be unto the professor who actually wants to impart unfettered, unbiased knowledge to those in his or her classroom.

I don’t know what it will take to restore dignity and honor to our colleges and universities. But I do know it needs to start with some backbone. While most of today’s students wouldn’t know (because their professors are too busy telling them why the western world has been constructed by nothing more than lies and deceptions of barons and empire builders) those of us who have actually studied real history know that mob rule rarely prevails.

Check out a great (short) video about the decline of our college educations by clicking here ​.

More to Follow-

Old Things Are Best

Dad - Opine Needles
And so it came to pass in end of the fifth year of the reign of the man known as Obama. There remained much to debate as to what exactly had come to pass. Forsooth, the people were much disillusioned. So many had heralded his arrival as “that” arrival millions believed was imminent. Alas, the citizens were in disarray, for it had ensued that the savior had yet to pick the time for his return, and the man known as Obama was no longer confused with HIS only begotten son.

On matters more earthly, the elderly amongst the people used the time of year to give thanks for the things that matter; their families, their faith, and their good fortune. The frivolity of their youths were held in check by the reality of their latter day experiences; their senses of responsibility, morality, and decency had been honed through the fog of the twists and turns on their respective roads of life.

There was one who was mystified by all that made his present world turn. Lost seemed to be the things that really matter. He reflected on those things he could not control, and settled on seeking contentment on matters that had been or still were in his realm.

So as Christmas drew nigh, he thought of his departed father, who once wrote words for a magazine; words that are timeless, and special, and powerful. Those words were:

Old things are better than new things. They may not perform better, but they are nicer to own; they are friends. My Randall knife, while not my oldest, is a prized possession, not for any monetary value that it might have-but because we’ve done a lot of fun things together in the past 30 years.

My oldest knife was “requisitioned” from the arms chest of the Tacloban Shore Patrol during WWII. Six months ago, I gave it a new handle of leather rings. It, too, provides memories.

I have two pairs of old leather bird boots, which date back to when they cost $18.00 to $20.00; big money then. Believe it or not, I still have fond memories of my first pair which were bought before the war, and carried me into the fifties. They were prime examples of what a cobbler could do if he really cared about old and good boots. They were from L.L. Bean, as is one of my current pairs.

Old wool deer pants are better than new ones only because you can look at the various repairs and bring back memories.

Old deer hunting friends are better than new ones. They took the test of time and passed. Old deer hunters are better than young ones. They know more and their hearts and legs make them move more slowly.

Old rifles are better than new ones, and, in the area, I must personalize the statement, for I have only had my current “old” rifle for one season. It’s a custom-stocked .308 built on a Sako action. The bluing has worn off due to it having been in and out of countless scabbards.

It previously belonged to Warren Page marksman, hunter, and Field & Stream writer. I’d like to think that it was one of his favorites because of its worn condition. It weights under seven pounds, with sling and scope. I can’t tell you all the places it has been, or the stalks or excitement it has witnessed.

However, I can tell you that on my back it has gone to four different states and accounted for three whitetail bucks. In time it will earn a place alongside my Randall as a source of retrospective good memories.

Old hats are better than new hats and everybody knows that. I brought mine home from the Pacific. Its previous owner, an Australian, gave it to me after punching me in the nose. I had, in company with an MP, walked into a bar and immediately found myself on the floor-for no particular reason other than being an American with a Shore Patrol band on my arm.

My old Aussie hat bears the inscription “Denham & Horgrove Ltd. Atherstone, 1943″ on the band. The felt is about 1/4” thick, and the brim keeps the rain off my glasses and the snow from going down my neck. Other than being practical and irreplaceable, it’s a best hat because it is old.

I have lot’s of good old things; old compasses, shirts, and two mended pairs of my father’s long red underwear. All these things give me warmth and comfort.

Someday you will get older and you, too, will be a best thing.

And he felt better just for reading the words again, and even better by taking the time to type them into his next blog. For he knew at that moment that no matter how absurd were the events in and of his world, no one could take away the words he had revisited, and more importantly, the hat he now wore.

Jim Pierce - Dad's Hat - Old Things Are Best - Opine Needles