Peace Studies, Black Studies, Women’s Studies, Ethnic Studies, even Marijuana Studies.  These "Sensitivity Degrees," from 40K-plus-a-year universities, are coming home to roost – as our youth begin taking their surly bite out of the "reality sandwich."  Having initially lusted after those glossy course catalogs, what a slap in the face it was to learn that an engineering degree actually requires spending nights burning the midnight oil rather than the bong.  How comforting it was to switch majors after the freshman term and saunter into the lukewarm waters of sub-mediocrity.  How natural it felt to re-enter the progressive womb and be "born again" as a smartphone-toting infant – where the ability to emote (and BS) was valued over the cruel, patriarchal, intolerant, and narrow world of science and its unforgiving mistress: mathematics.

Even if one still wished to cultivate the traditional loosey-goosey creative life, these days, the disciplines of philosophy, English, and political science are more representative of Progressive indoctrination than that once blessed golden path of diving deep into the human condition.  Now, the liberal arts and social sciences are indispensable to a cultured society, but only in the last few generations has our moribund culture succumbed to the delusion that such knowledge is sufficient, in and of itself, for obtaining gainful employment.  Little did they know that "The Technical City" has little need of such pleasantries, and this cruel revelation hit working-class parents perhaps the hardest.  Indeed, how many scrimping couples mortgaged their golden years so that little Heather and charming Max could swig and cavort to the dulcet tones of Higher Education – that velvet-lined hamster box of learning?  Having handed over their treasures to the longhairs, Mom and Pop were handed back sniveling toddlers.  And if we have learned anything from this vast transfer of wealth, it is that an expensive dumbed down liberal arts education only increases the difficulty of dynamiting the entitled little brats out of the basement before we qualify for Medicare.

Listen.  America has surpassed its solubility limit for the number of parasites it can absorb and coddle.  A knowledge of Foucault or Betty Friedan may impress in the decadent salons of Manhattan, but not so much in cleaning storm drains or in inquiring whether a patron would prefer a refill of his beverage of choice at that petit bourgeois establishment, Le Burger King.  

What have we learned, class?  You’re taking too damn long to grow up here in America!  And while the philosopher contemplates his indigence and the psych major has her head examined, the principal on that student loan ain’t budged a lick.  How’s that for some fundamental transformation?

Glenn Fairman writes from highland, Calif.  He can be contacted at arete5000@dslextreme.com and at www.stubbornthings.org.