It takes a lot to get one of us to write these days.  Alpha Man promised me a simple explanation of the crux of the Occupy Movement’s issues and he has yet to deliver.  Me, I am content for the time being just to be part of something.  Looking for an answer beats looking for a job. Probably because unlike a job, I know the truth exists.

However I had to tell you guys about this: M.I.T. is providing free, online education that now comes with a certified credential that exhibits mastery of the material. I am including the link below

http://www.forbes.com/sites/jamesmarshallcrotty/2011/12/21/m-i-t-game-changer-free-online-education-for-all/

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I am glad Mike Triforce didn’t go to law school five years later, because if he did he would have what I have in my possession: a student loan debit card.  That’s right, in between my student ID and Visa, I have a student loan debit card just in time for Oktoberfest.  You can’t make this stuff up.

So here’s what first came to mind. WWMT.  What Would Mike Triforce Do?  Well, obviously he would steal them.  Imagine how easy these cards would be to steal, and how many cards/accounts could be stolen WITHOUT A STUDENT EVER EVEN KNOWING.  I mean if the card gets stolen who foots the bill?  Keep in mind, the card is linked to the same indebtedness that does not afford you bankruptcy protection. 

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Leave it to Alpha Man to turn something he read on Sweet Hot Justice into a racial conspiracy theory. I have an alternate observation along the same lines of what does or does not constitute “rich” for tax purposes or in terms of being able to travel in certain circles.  My (new job) rich friends make less than my (old job) poor friends. A lot less actually. I am talking 50% on average. How? Why? I find the answer not in any historical patterns but in the age old question of which came first, the chicken or the egg?

Click on to read more

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Here at Debtor’s Prison, we’re not big on posting links within articles.  But here’s one

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/05/29/your-money/student-loans/29money.html?pagewanted=1&adxnnlx=1275242514-wCTp6UtEV1S1hPtiShkU6Ahttp://www.nytimes.com/2010/05/29/your-money/student-loans/29money.html?pagewanted=1&adxnnlx=1275242514-wCTp6UtEV1S1hPtiShkU6Ahttp://www.nytimes.com/2010/05/29/your-money/student-loans/29money.html?pagewanted=1&adxnnlx=1275242514-wCTp6UtEV1S1hPtiShkU6A

I could respond to this point for point but that wouldn’t be fair to our readers too lazy to click the link and in order to provide themselves with the necessary context SO instead I will give the opposite scenario so my post stands alone.

Johnny and his parents approached college with a grim determination: to get through the process with as little cost and effort as possible.  Like many parents with their own lives Mr. and Mrs. Johnny were anxious to get another body out of the house and college savings weren’t what they could have been if certain cars hadn’t been leased and certain boats hadn’t been purchased.  But you only live once.  Besides, if Johnny possessed any particular gifts there would be scholarships.  There were no scholarships.

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It is natural to hate people whom you believe have been given more than they deserve. I will be the first to admit that I take comfort in the fact that my loans at least shield me from the stigma that my achievements must be due to Affirmative Action. I get to join the student loan club, a race neutral organization and it endears me to my own people who associate a large part of their identity with struggle. Lonely indeed are the members of the darker nation who know no indebtedness for they are almost universally despised. And that’s a shame.

Recently I received a number of posted and unposted comments from medical types who are getting their tuition bill footed by the family. One of them, rather than being overly defensive simply wrote that it was done for him so that he could do it for his own kids one day and that there was no sense in paying all of that exorbitant interest. I found that to be an interesting notion.  Are we as Americans an extended family?

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My name is Icarus. I am 30 years old. Last week I met a 20 year-old older than me. Only two years into school was he. Yet he had borrowed more than me.

We were at a concert but he could not hear. The debt reached up to his very ears. A twenty year-old older than me. For I had much less debt than he.

A girl approached him. He could have been laid, but instead he talked about his financial aid. Aid if it can be called that. She turned to me and together we enjoyed the majesty of the concert.

He could not stay for the encore. For he had books over which to pour. Lest he remain poor. Every month new loans reminding him what was at stake. A twenty year-old older than me. For I had borrowed less than he.

Sadly I was able to take no joy in this. For on that day many years from now when he takes the podium to accept an award for excellence in his chosen field he will hear muted notes from the concert he missed all around him. And he will think of the girl. And his student debt unpaid. And the fact that the podium is in an empty room and the award one he gave himself. Then he will return to the temp agency, having never found a job utilizing his degree.

A twenty year-old. Older than me. For I have lighter chains than he.