What’s a college degree worth?

This post is what’s known as catharsis.  I took part in a loud discussion last night with my extended family.  In fact, it was so loud, some of my family members completely wuss’d out and left.  We have words for those people in these parts: losers who would be the first to be eaten during a zombie apocalypse.  The discussion centered around whether college football players should be “paid.”  I’m sure you’ve heard the argument before: these schools make huge dollars off of these poor, sad college athletes, and they can’t even afford to buy a pizza.  Oh, and their knees will hurt forever.  Of course, when one of these sad athletes breaks the rules, they aren’t caught with free pizzas; they’re caught getting free tattoo’s, or cars, or houses; but I digress….  Now, some argued that there shouldn’t be any athletic scholarships for academic institutions.  That’s fine.  I can appreciate that argument, and even support it.  There is something a bit off when one person needs to score a certain SAT score or have a certain GPA to get into college, while some other guy just has to be able to be 300 pounds and spell his name.  But that wasn’t the point of the argument.

The discussion hit its “loudness” apex when someone actually uttered something about slavery.  And by “apex” I mean that’s when I started to get truly loud because the comment was so absurd I almost spit out my drink.  And this person was one of my more conservative family members!  Give me a break.  Nobody is forcing the poor kids to play a college sport.  They do it voluntarily. And with good reason.  They don’t have any problem getting chicks.

I’ve always argued that the “should we pay college athletes” is a non-sensical starting point because we already pay them.  And if you ask all of the Occupy-Wall-Streeters, we pay college athletes a lot…since they come out of college with no debt.  And don’t forget about room and board, and that stipend they get to, you guessed it, buy pizza with if they’d like.  At that point, several people said to me, and I’m paraphrasing here, “who cares if they get a degree?  It’s not like they’re going to class or getting a real education.”  I’m not sure what is meant by “real education,” but I’m guessing it involves something other than not going to class and graduating with a worthless major.  Later, someone else argued that a college degree is only worth the tuition amount, while the school is raking in a disproportionate amount in revenue.  It’s at this point that I, admittedly, lost my mind.   Not only because it’s a completely ridiculous argument, but because it’s a completely disingenuous argument…and by disingenuous, I mean no one defending the argument actually agrees with the assertion in their own lives.

I asked one of my family members if they would be sending their kid to college.  Knowing the answer before they answered the question, I asked “why?”  Well, they didn’t answer the question, only offering a sly smile.  Others accused me of “brow-beating” or asking irrelevant questions.  It wasn’t surprising that my opponents aggressively avoided this point.  The answer is obvious.  You send your kids to school because a college degree — any degree — vastly improves their chances of living a comfortable life.  Does it matter if the kid got an “education” when he was in school, whatever that may mean?  Is a football player getting a free degree in exercise science any different than a pot-smoking/alcohol-binging student who barely makes it to class, borderline flunks out, and then takes a fifth-year glory lap to graduate with a 2.0 gpa and a communications degree?  While doing it on his/her parents’ dime?  There’s no difference.  At all.  At least the football player gives me something to do on Saturday.

The conversation got so far afield that we talked about non-revenue sports and Title IX.  Geez, at one point someone divided the football revenue of the University of Michigan and deemed paying every football player a little over $1 million was reasonable.   None of this, of course, matters in relation to the ultimate point.  The entire argument that we should pay college athletes is based on one premise: that someone getting a college degree, that they would likely be unable to obtain without an athletic scholarship, is of no value; or that its value is somehow less than what they’re getting in return.  While shooting from the hip, I offered an argument that would have garnered immediate agreement on any other day (although by that point my opponents had dug themselves in so deep that they wouldn’t concede anything).  What argument you ask?  That, regardless of the “education” one receives, simply owning that stupid little piece of paper called a degree matters.  A lot.

The report titled “The Big Payoff: Educational Attainment and Synthetic Estimates of Work-Life Earnings” (.pdf) reveals that over an adult’s working life, high school graduates can expect, on average, to earn $1.2 million; those with a bachelor’s degree, $2.1 million; and people with a master’s degree, $2.5 million.

That’s right.  Your run-of-the-mill college degree is worth just under $1 million dollars over a graduate’s work-life.  And this guy goes as high as $2.2 million.  Why?  We all know the reason (even my opponents from last night).  Most decent jobs require a college degree before they will even look at your resume.  That’s it.  A degree.  Not a degree from someone who could work their alarm clock.  Not a degree from someone who was on the Dean’s List.  Not a degree from someone who thought Dark Side of the Moon was just fine without additional help.  Just a degree. And these figures aren’t looking at a Stanford degree vs. a Ferris State degree.  Or engineering vs. philosophy.  Just a “degree.”

So, how much is a football player being compensated by getting a scholarship to a school like Southern Cal?  Well, assuming they wouldn’t have qualified on their own…at least $1 million on average.  And since we’re talking about a more highly-ranked school like Southern Cal, probably more.

So, here’s my message to those out there that believe we should pay college athletes, specifically football players, because they don’t earn enough: you’re wrong.  It’s a simple as that.   Unless you think we should pay them more than a 1-2 million bucks to play college ball.  And if you do, then you’re not just wrong, you’re mentally challenged.

Why testicles? **UPDATE**

Why?

There are plenty of things in life that I don’t understand.  But if I think about them long and hard enough, I can begin to wrap my brain around them.  For example: light beer.  Why?  It’s barely beer.  And it tastes like crap.  But I can  comprehend it after thinking about it for a while.  It’s low in calories and at least isn’t a Zima.  I saw one thing during my drive home from work though, that I simply can’t wrap my brain around.  And I tried.  I really, really did.  You’ve all seen them at one time or another.  Hanging there from the bumper of some jacked up truck.  You probably took a double-take just to confirm that what you thought you saw you actually saw.  That’s right: testicles.  Or, as this website calls them, Bumper Nuts.

Why would someone feel the need to hang a set of these from their bumper?  Does the giant truck not already compensate for your emotional problems?  Did someone actually walk up to their automobile one day and say, “hey, you know what’s missing?  A set of steel balls.”  And what do these appendages signify?  Does it give your truck “balls?”  If yes, what exactly does that mean?  Is the driver wanting us to believe that the hangers are actual copies of his testicles?  Because if they are, you should get yourself checked out by a doctor.

I’ve seen lots of random stuff on cars.  Sometimes I cringe to think that my children can read them.  Sometimes I laugh though.  “My other ride is your mom” for example, is kind of clever.  The steel balls though?  Not so much.

**UPDATE**

I saw a pair on an Astro Van today.  Yes.  An Astro Van.  Not on the bumper though.  They were actually hanging underneath the car…around the rear axle.  And the dude driving was white, around 45 years old, and had his kids in the back.  I certainly hope someone was playing a prank on the poor guy, and he just hasn’t noticed.  If not, well…

Shocking news of the day: MTV inappropriate for anyone under 21

Another possible title of this post could have been: MTV inappropriate for anyone under 21, unless you’re a pedophile.  Apparently MTV’s new show “Skins” depicts a 17 year old running down the street naked, and therefore, may have violated child porn laws.  A 17 year old running down the street naked?  Where I come from, that means you scored “zero” on whatever game you were playing.  Just prior to the jog, one may hear the following: “bob’s the big loser; time for a naked run; everyone get your cameras!”  So, count me as someone who doesn’t think depicting a 17 year old dude running naked is child porn…it’s just awkward.

The foregoing should in no way be interpreted as me thinking MTV is appropriate for, well, anyone, however.  When I was a kid, my parents strictly prohibited the watching of MTV.  Of course, I watched it anyway, and then blamed my sisters for it.  Times have changed though, and sneaking some MTV no longer amounts to being subjected to songs about stuff that’s “wiggity, wiggity, wiggity, wack.”  Now, the kids get to watch shows like “Skins.”

What is ”Skins” you ask?  Well, I’ve never seen the American version, but I have watched the U.K. version…and if the American version is anything like the U.K. version (which it appears to be from the clips I’ve watched), than it should be reserved for Showtime.  The problem: 1.2 million under-18 kids watched the American premiere.

So, what have we learned?  Should we blame MTV for pushing teenage sex (either real or fiction)? No.  Should we blame kids for being dumb?  No.  Both are doing what comes naturally.  Have our societal values eroded over the last 20 years?  Obviously.  The important question is: Where were the parents of those 1.2 million?   My guess: watching re-runs of Remote Control with Ken Ober.

Super Sharks of Goodna?

Sharks fascinate me.  Always have, always will.  Every year, I wait for some fools to get eaten’ during Shark Week.  I watch every episode multiple times (even the one where those jerks at Mythbusters tried to prove that Roy Scheider couldn’t actually blow up the shark by shooting the scuba tank clutched in its jaws).  In fact, before I became boring, I was going to be a marine biologist simply so I could play with sharks.  I catch all the shark movies…especially the really awesome ones on Sy-Fy (the channel formerly known as the Science Fiction channel).  You know what I’m talking about…the ones about scientists discovering prehistoric sharks during Spring Break, or genetically mutated sharks during Spring Break, or mega sharks that battle mega-crocs during Spring Break?  You watch them too.

When I was a kid, I often terrified myself with thoughts of the ocean flooding our house and waking up with sharks eating my feet.  Of course, these fears were absurd, since I lived in Michigan.  Apparently, the thought is not so absurd in Goodna, Australia, where because of the flooding of local rivers, sharks have been spotted swimming down mainstreet! 

 Two bull sharks, renown for their aggression, were spotted swimming through the flooded streets of a small town in the inundated Australian state of Queensland, the Queensland Times reported Friday.

Rivers you ask?  Yes, bull sharks can survive in fresh water for a time and do swim up rivers.  So there’s your science lesson for the day.  So, while they’re not technically mutated, it’s still pretty cool.  I’m sure you find this to be as cool as I do right?  Anyone?  Well, if you don’t, it’s because you’re a complete loser who drives a 1977 station wagon and has no friends.  There, I said it. 

Moral of the story: you can now frighten your children with thoughts of them waking up one evening during a heavy rain storm with sharks in their bed, and have some basis for it.  Only when they’ve been naughty, of course.

Deep Fried Beer. ‘Nuff Said.

Well, I’m at a loss for words.

The beer is placed inside a pocket of salty, pretzel-like dough and then dunked in oil at 375 degrees for about 20 seconds, a short enough time for the confection to remain alcoholic. When diners take a bite the hot beer mixes with the dough in what is claimed to be a delicious taste sensation.

Holy crap!  It’s not just deep fried beer, it’s deep fried beer in a soft pretzel!  “Delicious taste sensation?”  That’s the best you can do?  Only a chef in Texas could figure this out.  Stephen Hawking?  If you were truly a genius, you would have done this a long time ago.  Simply put, there’s only one thing that could top this: Deep fried sex (with your opposite sex spouse of course).

I’m SHOCKED to learn that Iran is totally ignoring the U.N.’s Angry Letters

In what should come as a surprise to no one, Iran is continuing to increase its stock-pile of low-enriched uranium.  Well, not exactly no one…our president and the letter-writers at the U.N. are probably surprised.  They have, after all, been very stern with Iran and demanded that Iran cease its nuclear program.  These efforts have been met with hardy laughter from Iran, and a double-face palm from the rest of us.

But experts said a stockpile of this size meant that if Iran chose further to enrich this material to the level needed for nuclear weapons, it would be able to build nearly three bombs. However, Iran’s ability to manufacture a nuclear warhead is still unclear and Tehran says that its nuclear programme has only peaceful purposes.

Only peaceful purposes.  Well, that’s a relief.  Wait, what?  You say they aren’t allowing U.N. weapons inspectors in?

Tehran barred two inspectors in June after claiming they had leaked and fabricated information about the nuclear programme.

The report also found that Iran had continued constructing a heavy water reactor at Arak, but without allowing inspectors full access to the site.

Hmmm…if the nuclear power is only for peaceful purposes, why obstruct the inspectors?  Yes, that was rhetorical.  You needn’t worry, however, because we can always count on the gift of incompetence:

But Iran also appears to be having some technical difficulties with its enrichment programme. The IAEA report showed that the number of operational centrifuges at the plant at Natanz had again declined from 3,936 in May this year to 3,772 last month. The decline of 164 machines in the space of three months is equivalent to a full “cascade” of centrifuges.

I feel better now.  Knowing that Iran will continue to epically fail in its efforts to become nuclear bomb-tastic is like a soft, fluffy pillow to lay my head on at night.  Oh, and you don’t need to worry about any of those terrorists who like to hang out in Iran and play basketball and responsibly mentor young men and stuff getting their hands on some nuclear material to construct a dirty bomb.  I’m sure Iran’s security is off the hook.

Me on the radio

I have been instructed to post a link to the Norman Goldman show that I called into on June 28, 2010.  So here you go. Unfortunately, the mp3 doesn’t provide a clock, so all I can tell you is that I’m right before the exact middle of the show.  The topic was the Supreme Court’s 5-4 ruling to shoot down Chicago’s gun ban.  Good luck finding the right spot.

Smoke some Pork 2010 Is On!

Is there anything I enjoy more than talking politics and Jimmy Buffett?  I don’t know…how ’bout SMOKIN’ RIBS AND DRINKIN’ BEER!  Every summer (well, this is only the second summer, but traditions start somewhere), my wife and I have a bunch of people over for a day/night rib eatin’, beer drinkin’, music listenin’, bags playin’, other happenins’.  Well, today’s the day.  As we work our way up to the beginning of the shin-dig, I’ll provide a little play by play.  Not like one of those Bill Simmons minute by minute deals (i’ve got temperatures to control and beer to drink), but happenin by happenin.

And when I talk ribs…I’m talkin’ low n slow (of course).  approx. four hours per slab.  i use cherry wood.

9:00 a.m…trip to meijer for stuff i didn’t buy yesterday…rub ingredients, donuts, coffee.  Brought two kids…because the wife doesn’t let me out of the house without at least one…and another wanted to join.  easy enough because no one’s at meijer at 9:00 a.m. other than the power walkers who avoid the outdoors.

10:00 a.m…back from meijer…start fire.  kids being loud…open first beer.

10:30 a.m…fire up to appropriate temp…put first batch of ribs on.  Continue yelling at children…continue drinking.  have donut.

11:00 a.m…first beer gone…first burned hand…kids about to go with oma for rest of day.  temp outside: 80…temp in smoker: b/t 220 and 230.

12:00 p.m….second beer gone.  outside temp: 82..temp in smoker: 223.  Just went to the Texas crutch, which i will use for approx. 30-45 minutes.  sun is shining and Jimmy is on the mic.

12:25 p.m…second burn of the day…happy to hear that rick porcello isn’t on the trading block (which i doubted).  trading him would be STUPID.

1:05 p.m…out of texas crutch and first set is rounding third.  beer of choice for this hot summer day: leinenkugel’s summer shandy.  beer with lemonade.  second choice: sam adams summer ale.  third: bell’s oberon.  fourth: goose island summertime.  the wife is really getting her party hat on now.   and by that i mean she’s organizing.  hey, one of us has to play with fire while the other one figures out how to put it out if it goes bad.  that’s marriage.

2:00 p.m…just about time to take first round off (i’ve already had one and i’m not dead yet).  coals going for second round.  had to make an emergency run to meijer because i love meijer.  and i needed batteries.  some clouds rolling in, but still perfect weather.  and i just heard hotel california…greatest song ever.  next up…Rosie, come out tonight!

2:35 p.m…next round on.  third burn of day.  eagles’ “already gone” on the radio.

2:45 p.m…”southern cross” on the radio.

3:40 p.m…dave matthews on the radio…smokin away…counting down

4:00 p.m…my new neighbor is not only from michigan, he’s a michigan fan.  which means he rules.  oh yeah, still smokin’ and drinkin’.  roger clyne and peacemakers on radio.

Dammit Jimmy…I can’t stay mad at you.

Getting ready for Jimmy

I needed to address this because everyone’s been bugging me about it.  It’s just proof that no one is perfect, that’s all.  Yes, the man who lives in my CD player, and provides me with lazy days and music to drink to, is a B.O. supporter and thinks the Gulf oil spill is George Bush’s fault.  I don’t know why, something about lack of regulations.  Look, every man is entitled to his opinion, even if it’s 100% misguided (there’s no evidence that lack of regulation had anything to do with the BP spill).  Jimmy still rules and can say whatever he wants.

And at least he’s trying to help out the people a little…he’s playing on the beach in Gulf Shores, Alabama this weekend with the Zac Brown Band and others.  If you can, go see him, because you won’t be disappointed (and don’t let your friends drag you out before the encore to beat traffic).

Does Lebron James Saga Place Final Nail in NBA Coffin? Let’s Hope So.

To the ME show

Yes, we post on everything here…that’s why this blog is about conservative politics…and more.  It’s right there in the title, so I warned you.  By now, I’m sure just about everyone (well, maybe not my wife) has heard about the Lebron James drama-rama.  He apparently felt it necessary to hold a hour long special on ESPN to tell everyone he was going to play with the Miami Heat.  Did he really need a prime time special?  Couldn’t he have just tweeted it or something?  And what about poor Cleveland?  I mean, the Cavaliers’ owner sounds like he found his wife in bed with his mistress…who was a man!*   Hopefully, and I’m saying this as a guy who absolutely DESPISES the NBA,  the LBJ nonsense knocks it down below bocce ball as something people voluntarily watch in their spare time.

“But ‘ville (nickname I give myself when talking to myself), why do you hate the NBA?  All that athleticism, the star-studded crowds, the cheerleaders?”  Well, I haven’t always chosen to go snow-shovel the driveway instead of watching a game; it was a progressive event.  It started with the “Jordan Rules.”  How can a sport have such blatantly different rules for different players?  Why can M.J. push off, or take ten steps without dribbling, while some other guy gets a foul called for simply looking at Air Jordan cross-eyed?

Next, I have to hear all of the wailing and gnashing of teeth about the Pistons and the Knicks and the Spurs because they actually make an effort to play defense occasionally.  Couple that with having to watch players like Alan Iverson shoot the ball fifty times a game to score 30 points.  Aren’t these guys professionals?  Why can’t they hit a shot with any consistency beyond three feet?  Then I get to watch Shaq, the most unskilled big man I’ve ever seen, simply decapitating people to get to the rim, and never get an offensive foul called.  Shouldn’t he at least have to know how to drop-step?

Finally, referee Tim Donaghy is caught making bets on games and changing outcomes.  While no one else has been implicated, I don’t buy it.  I’ve watched enough NBA games to know that the league either employs incompetent officials or cheating officials.  I’m not even sure which one is worse.

Now, the Lebron fiasco.  You know what I took out of this whole thing…Lebron’s not that good of a player (or at least he doesn’t think he is).  For a guy who is allegedly the best player in the game, he sure went out of his way to make sure he wasn’t the one taking the final shot to win the game with five seconds left in a crappy sports town.  He’s a clown, and the NBA is one step removed from the WWF.  Hopefully last night’s reality show will put it out of its misery, and mine, for good.

*Just a hypothetical.  Calm down legal team.