#MillionStudentMarch: Marine Annihilates the College Clueless in One Tweet

#MillionStudentMarch: Marine Annihilates the College Clueless in One Tweet

#MillionStudentMarch: Marine Annihilates the College Clueless in One Tweet

I can see my Marine friends and family now.

“Kill, kill, kill!” All kidding aside. But “kill” is just what this United States Marine did to the #MillionStudentMarch argument and lunacy:

Then there’s this:

And this:

James Erickson apparently does not have much sympathy for Keely Mullen and her whiny college clan who are demanding free college, student loan forgiveness, a $15 minimum wage and safe spaces to clutch their “blankies” and suck their thumbs. In fact, not many of us do have that kind of patience. This wasn’t the first time a Marine laid the smackdown on college brats across the country. Remember Chris Hernandez back in March?

I’m no stranger to trauma, and I’ve dealt with it by writing and talking about it. I suppose I’ve always defined “trauma” the traditional way: a terrible experience, usually involving significant loss or mortal danger, which left a lasting scar. However, I’ve recently discovered my definition of trauma is wrong. Trauma now seems to be pretty much anything that bothers anyone, in any way, ever. And the worst “trauma” seems to come not from horrible brushes with death like I described above; instead, they’re the result of racism and discrimination.

I’ve reviewed these reports of “trauma”, and have reached a conclusion about them. I’m going to make a brief statement summarizing my conclusion. While I mean this in the nicest way possible, I don’t want victims of microaggressions or supporters of trigger warnings to doubt my sincerity.

F*** your trauma.

Yes, f*** your trauma. My sympathy for your suffering, whether that suffering was real or imaginary, ended when you demanded I change my life to avoid bringing up your bad memories. You don’t seem to have figured this out, but there is no “I must never be reminded of a negative experience” expectation in any culture anywhere on earth.

If your psyche is so fragile you fall apart when someone inadvertently reminds you of “trauma,” especially if that trauma consisted of you overreacting to a self-interpreted racial slur, you need therapy. You belong on a psychiatrist’s couch, not in college dictating what the rest of society can’t do, say, or think. Get your own head right before you try to run other people’s lives. If you expect everyone around you to cater to your neurosis, forever, you’re what I’d call a “failure at life,” doomed to perpetual disappointment.

Oh, I should add: f** my trauma, too. I must be old-fashioned, but I always thought coming to terms with pain was part of growing up. I’ve never expected anyone to not knock on my door because it reminds me of that terrifying morning decades ago. I’ve never blown up at anyone for startling me with a camera flash (I’ve never even mentioned it to anyone who did). I’ve never expected anyone to not talk about Iraq or Afghanistan around me, even though some memories still hurt. I don’t need trigger warnings because a book might remind me of a murder victim I’ve seen

The above was so “shocking” and so “abrasive” and so “offensive” that Facebook prohibited individuals from sharing it.

Offensive to the poor little delicate flowers. You know what’s offensive? A wet-behind-the-ears college kid pretending to know about economics. What’s next in the world of Keelynomics, anyway? A #MillionDinerMarch (you know, where the 1% buys meals at local restaurants for starving students who can’t buy their own?) How about a #MillionPhoneMarch where these poor, deprived kiddos can get a free upgrade on their iPhones so they can send their BFF emojis during their “On Being Bored” (yes, it is a class at Brown University). Some Marines marched, some camped out in the desert in enemy territory eating nothing but MREs for days on end, and some even went into combat and you know what, Keely Mullen and company? Some Marines (and other members from each branch of service) had to give up something to get that free education you speak of-be it their time or a limb. Yes, a limb. A body part. What, again, Ms. Mullen, are you giving up? Oh, I get it…the rest of us are meant to sacrifice and invest our hard-earned money in you all because your parents were too scared to tell you that you were anything but awesome 24 hours a day, 7 days a week until and beyond graduating high school. Here’s another newsflash to the college crowd: Marines don’t get participation trophies. Kudos to these Marines for standing up and setting the record straight. OORAH and Semper Fidelis!

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