The Week of Loathing (Day the Fourth): College Kids

It’s hard to believe it’s almost over. Sad, isn’t it? Although we began only a few short days ago, dear reader, today marks the penultimate installment of our Official Fourth Annual Week of Loathing. Oh, how much hate we have spread in these glorious—yet fleeting—hours!

And today is no different. For, as the literate amongst you can already tell, in this charming installment of the Week of Loathing, we take aim at a target well deserving of hardcore obloquy. We refer, of course, to college kids.

Perhaps, dear reader, an excoriation of the typical dimwitted collegiate brat is a little passé. After all, everyone on God’s green earth despises these self-important morons. Still, if anyone needs a good drubbing, it’s certainly an odious pack of undergraduates. And you needn’t look any farther for it; here it is.

Lots of folks complain no end about the life of leisure led by the average tenured faculty member. “Those lazy bastards,” they say. “Why, they teach one class every two days!”

Well, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” think that some critics of academe paint with too broad a brush. For every sluggish English professor, you’re bound to find a hardworking economist or historian. In short, though some surely are taking advantage of the system (we’re looking at you, Cornel West), others are not.

But this is neither here nor there. Our point, dear reader, is simply this: In comparison with the typical college student, a tenured prof works harder than Atlas. No, not Charles Atlas, but the fellow who holds up the world. (Ah, so you were sleeping in mythology class too, dear reader?)

Although the general public tends to think of American college professors as nothing but lazy windbags, the real scandal is amongst the undergraduate body. Simply put, too many college students are interested in little else than, well, the undergraduate body. And, of course, we mean that quite literally.

You send your little tyke off to school, thinking he’ll learn a good deal about Shakespeare, Dickens, or, at least, Marx. But no: The wretch can’t be bothered to attend class, because it conflicts with his busy acquaintance rape schedule. And do his reading? Are you kidding? Most college students are well nigh illiterate.

Every time we hear some moronic politician blather on about the urgent need for every American to attend college, we think to ourselves: If only this boob would sit in on a Sociology 101 lecture. One-third of the class mysteriously missing; one-quarter sound asleep; the remaining students trying their hand at a crossword puzzle—these are the tell-tale signs of university students learning.

As everyone but Bill Clinton seems to recognize, most kids attend college for four (or five) years of intense dipsomania, feverish drug-taking, and incessant date rape. If you ask us, American children should be compelled to complete a year of military service before they head to university. That’ll learn the little pukes.

And what if the army doesn’t need them? Well, maybe they could serve as Ted Kennedy’s towel boy instead.