I’d like to start this week’s column by proclaiming something: I don’t have any money.
Well, I have some money, but it’s allocated to bills and such. I make enough to put a roof over our heads and food on our table. Occasionally, my wife and I can go out to eat, but nowhere fancy. We have three cars, but two of them are almost 20 years old and have combined mileage on them that equals the distance to Jupiter and back. I mean the big planet, not the town in Florida where Burt Reynolds used to live. They say Burt didn’t have a lot of money at the end there, but he had more than I have now. I’m not destitute, but I am no Burt Reynolds either.
You have undoubtedly seen something in the news lately about some really rich people paying bribes to get their children into colleges. My first impression was these big-time rich folks had the money to pay the tuition, why bribe someone to get their kids into these schools? Well, it could be one of a couple of things.
First, it could be they just think that rules don’t apply to them and their money can get them whatever they want whenever they want it.
Second, it could be because their kids are morons who couldn’t get into college even if they wanted to.
I say this because one of the celeb kids was all over social media saying she only wanted to party and go to sporting events and the school part didn’t matter to her.
Well, Little Miss Moneybags, I did not attend college. I did, however, spend four years hanging out at games and dorm parties without my parents bribing everyone from the SAT proctor to the janitor at the college bookstore to get me in.
The argument can be made from this fiasco that rich people enjoy privileges we mere mortals do not. It can be said that they perceive they do, and play shocked when they get caught doing something dishonest and wonder why the world has turned on them. Somewhere, there is a young man or woman lamenting the fact that, no matter how hard they tried, they were not able to get into Big Prestigious University. Their entire educational career and their academic hopes were dashed so a YouTube model can take their place because Mommy wrote a check for a quarter-million dollars.
This column is usually pretty funny, or I hope it is. I don’t delve into actual news often and when I do, it’s usually something that upsets me. This is one of those times.
What bothers me is these people thought they could get away with it. Twenty-five million dollars was spent by dozens of people to ensure their kids got educations that they really did not give one good damn about. (My apologies to my grandmother, who reads this column, about the strong language. I will wash my mouth out with soap later, Grandmom.)
One of the culprits, an actress who has portrayed mostly wholesome characters on television, is finding out the hard way that the FBI doesn’t care who you are or how much money you make. You might be America’s Sweetheart on the Hallmark Channel, but to the rest of us, lady, you’re just a big crook.
News reports stated one of the celebrities involved woke up to find FBI agents at her door with guns drawn. The last time I checked, that’s how the FBI arrests big-time criminals. They usually don’t make an appointment with your agent and meet up at the Polo Lounge.
I know it will never happen, but I would like to see some of the deserving students get accepted by these colleges. Make the celebrities pay their tuition as restitution. I hear there are two vacancies at USC opening up because two celebrity students withdrew because they fear being bullied. Being bullied is not the issue, kids. You got your admission dishonestly. You should be expelled and not withdraw. One of the girls was on the yacht of a USC chairman at the time the story broke in the press. She is friends with the chairman’s daughter. I guess if my mother gave someone a half-million dollars, I could be friends with their kids as well.
Maybe I am cynical. Who knows? This is just my two cents. On my income, that’s about all I can afford.
Joe Weaver, a native of Baltimore, is a husband, father, pawnbroker and gun collector. From his home in New Bern, he writes on the lighter side of family life.
