Learning how to speak 'Universitese'

I don't know who "Felicity Huffman" is.  Some big-time television star who shares an ethical paint-by-numbers palette with Jussie Smollett, I suppose.  But today, we all know her sleazy story. 

The larger narrative doesn't begin or end with her.

Way down, in the sub-basement at every college, one might find books full of great thoughts concerning human virtue.  They provided a character map for advanced learners to follow as duty and obligation.

These erudite considerations, collected over centuries of human existence, today provide only subsistence for the rats that dwell subterranean.

The bigger rats, the ivory tower rats, wander through halls discussing trivialities.  They are big on intersectional or grievance studies.  They expend great amounts of mental energy trying to figure out if a boy is really a boy, or is he really a girl, or is he something in between some of the time and something else at other times, and what should we, the people, be forced to call it?

They look up occasionally to lecture upon the morality of allowing unfettered immigration because mobs of domestic anti-vaxxers can cause mass outbreaks of measles.  They pontificate on why a citizen's vote should be nullified by a non-citizen because of some gambit they call "privilege" in which professors stack the deck against America while football coaches earn six million dollars a year.

The ivory tower rats insist that historically murderous socialism will work because they, from their ivory towers, will now be in charge of it.  They are better than the socialist butchers who came before them.

But they don't talk about or ponder human virtue.  Virtue is too old-fashioned, too Western Civ.

Virtues are dead things at the university.

Honor is dead of neglect.  Its compatriot, honesty, decays next to it.

What of respect, which breeds humility and kindness?  Respect drowned in the gaudy and infantile attempts to be seen, heard, and published.

Have you seen any gratitude?  Not unless once more raising tuition could obtain.  The rats in the ivory towers are certain everybody else should be grateful for the mere presence of the rats themselves.  They have no time to ruminate upon the many privileges that rathood has bestowed upon them.

Political shades of gray obscured courage, loyalty, prudence, and grace.  Compassion, authenticity, and forgiveness were strangled in the postmodern heart.

And excellence became something only others must strive for to the satisfaction of the rats.

Let's not pretend to be surprised a system that charges one thousand dollars a week for a ten-by-nine hovel with detached bathroom and institutional food ever gave a damn about anything but the money.

"Felicity Huffman" had bucks, and that is the only virtue every university in America understands and speaks fluently.

I don't know who "Felicity Huffman" is.  Some big-time television star who shares an ethical paint-by-numbers palette with Jussie Smollett, I suppose.  But today, we all know her sleazy story. 

The larger narrative doesn't begin or end with her.

Way down, in the sub-basement at every college, one might find books full of great thoughts concerning human virtue.  They provided a character map for advanced learners to follow as duty and obligation.

These erudite considerations, collected over centuries of human existence, today provide only subsistence for the rats that dwell subterranean.

The bigger rats, the ivory tower rats, wander through halls discussing trivialities.  They are big on intersectional or grievance studies.  They expend great amounts of mental energy trying to figure out if a boy is really a boy, or is he really a girl, or is he something in between some of the time and something else at other times, and what should we, the people, be forced to call it?

They look up occasionally to lecture upon the morality of allowing unfettered immigration because mobs of domestic anti-vaxxers can cause mass outbreaks of measles.  They pontificate on why a citizen's vote should be nullified by a non-citizen because of some gambit they call "privilege" in which professors stack the deck against America while football coaches earn six million dollars a year.

The ivory tower rats insist that historically murderous socialism will work because they, from their ivory towers, will now be in charge of it.  They are better than the socialist butchers who came before them.

But they don't talk about or ponder human virtue.  Virtue is too old-fashioned, too Western Civ.

Virtues are dead things at the university.

Honor is dead of neglect.  Its compatriot, honesty, decays next to it.

What of respect, which breeds humility and kindness?  Respect drowned in the gaudy and infantile attempts to be seen, heard, and published.

Have you seen any gratitude?  Not unless once more raising tuition could obtain.  The rats in the ivory towers are certain everybody else should be grateful for the mere presence of the rats themselves.  They have no time to ruminate upon the many privileges that rathood has bestowed upon them.

Political shades of gray obscured courage, loyalty, prudence, and grace.  Compassion, authenticity, and forgiveness were strangled in the postmodern heart.

And excellence became something only others must strive for to the satisfaction of the rats.

Let's not pretend to be surprised a system that charges one thousand dollars a week for a ten-by-nine hovel with detached bathroom and institutional food ever gave a damn about anything but the money.

"Felicity Huffman" had bucks, and that is the only virtue every university in America understands and speaks fluently.