Blue Devil Nation,
I decided to take an extra long Spring Break this year and really soaked in the air of freedom. It was exactly what I needed. I had a wonderful Caribbean cruise, salmon short weather all day long, and I got that right amount of tan where I don’t look like Casper, but not so much that I look Mexican-y. It was perfect. That is, until I returned to our Floridian port, cocktail in hand, and tripped over a pile of garbage. This was no ordinary pile of garbage. No, it was a homeless. Yup, a do-nothing pile of nothing that is leeching off our welfare system day in and day out. And as I expected, this only got worse when I returned to campus, seeing troves of the lesser class at Duke.
Now, some may try not to acknowledge the “others,” but I find it next to impossible to not notice the class difference at Duke. They pollute our campus with off-brand clothing. (I’m sorry, but if you don’t have a pony on your polo, you aren’t a real man.) They constantly refuse to eat off-campus because they are saving money or something. And they’re always “just staying home” for break. But I will admit that there are some that even pass through my fine-toothed comb—people that have learned to camouflage into the higher class scene through things like fraternity scholarships or doing porn for money. These are the people that must be feared. And don’t try to trick me into thinking that there is a level playing field for some because you can come from a well-off family but still not have endless funds for social events. If your parents would rather pay the mortgage than pay for you to actually have a college experience, then they aren’t your real parents.
You’re probably thinking, “Right, what’s the big deal? If I don’t even notice them, what’s the harm?” The thing is, you don’t notice them now. But what happens when they infiltrate your fraternity or friend group? In Duke’s social scene, activities are tied to income. There are those that can and those that cannot afford random excursions to the French Quarter for Mardi Gras. There are those who can’t just eat at fancy restaurants in Raleigh because of their “fixed budget.” And this is awkward. Imagine a conversation with your friend. You ask if he wants to have a candle-lit dinner at 604, and he responds with, “Sorry, I want to use food points.” And this is the best-case scenario—the response you get from someone bold enough to say no. Sometimes the person lies about being busy (because who wouldn’t want a nice dinner with me?), or they do go out to dinner with me and I accidentally am the cause of his family losing their home or something. My point is that we need a new system for dealing with this problem. My brain-dead cousin, Left Wing, would probably suggest that we create a system of social stipends that students could use for events or making a more subsidized system where students wouldn’t have to worry about being able to pay for certain events. But this welfare-esque system is only taking money from the rich and rewarding failure. Side note: Life isn’t Mario Kart. You don’t get better items for being in last.
But I have an ever-so-modest proposal for how to deal with the problem of the poor. In order to avoid associating with them, all we need to do is put a marker on these people so we don’t have to deal with the awkward conversation about whether or not they can afford certain things. I put forth Hoover Flags as a valid idea. Made popular during the Great Depression, Hoover Flags were a way the poor showed anguish by displaying their empty pockets so everyone could see that they were worthless. Similar to a small star or triangle, a Hoover Flag could make people of a lower income more identifiable so they could mix with their own kind and we could mix with ours. All of a sudden, everyone you know can afford Caribbean cruises, the hoi polloi are in a selective living group and your cares are as lost as a Malaysian airliner. Am I Right, or am I right?
Right Wing pities Belle Knox. No one should ever have to talk to Piers Morgan.