We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Not in $ terms, not anymore. In other ways, perhaps. Connections, networking, first spouses, intellectual fun, etc.However, these days it's the sub-Ivy networkswho take the best care of their grads.Georgetown, Boston College, Bucknell, Duke, Syracuse, Indiana -their loyal alum networks work hard to make sure every grad finds a good first job to launch a career of hard white-collar work.
Top tier colleges are all about network effect. We flatter ourselves as being ever more meritocratic, but that is a crock. The power of the Ivies and other elite institutions, including expensive and highly exclusive private schools for the pre-college crowd, is higher than ever in my lifetime. In locking in those benefits, it might be worth the cost. But I hope the day comes when a Penn State or Texas or University of Minnesota or Oregon grad doesn't get sneeringly excluded from key circles. Diversity, indeed.
While reading the Boston narrative links, Julie London's version of Cry Me A River popped up in my play list. Unable to admit their community failed, they turn to the "if you can't dazzle, baffle" routine.
Cost of the Obamaphones exploding, well some body has to help Carlos Slim keep up property values in Manhattan.
My wife was the first to notice the explosion of Obamaphones among the "homeless," derelicts and street people here--and asked me how they could all afford cell phones.
Now those folks sit outside our office building, which is prime territory because it has outdoor outlets they can plug their Obamaphones into. (Assume sooner or later the building will figure out how to turn those off.)
I have no clue who they talk to, assume it is either their drug supplier, their parole officer, or their social case worker. Or maybe one of their other personalities.
I understand once they use up their free minutes, they just throw the phone away and get another one.