By Peyton Farquhar / Prattle On, Boyo / Originally published Aug. 10, 2012
When I was a broke-ass student, my primary mode of transport was either the bus or my bike. Pedaling a bike wasn’t a bad thing because I’ve been on two wheels since I was four. But I remember all too well that boarding the bus made me feel even more impoverished, almost as if the very thought of taking public transport was an enormous badge of shame.
Back then, I didn’t realize that being an American meant having been brainwashed from a very early age by the corporate plantation owners that only poor folk take the bus. Nay, all I could see was the end of a school term in a long series of sleep-deprived semesters and dead-end, minimum wage paying jobs that comprised the time I spent getting an education. But I was OK with it because I believed my indigence was temporary.
At long last, after finally having obtained a college degree, several years and thousands of dollars in student loan debt later, I thought I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. As it turns out, however, that light was attached to an oncoming freight train headed straight for me. The awesome job a college education touted never seemed to materialize, but it wasn’t because I hadn’t looked. Then, as now, the economy was hostile to those entering the work force with a freshly minted degree. The U.S. was wrapping up the week-long first war in the Iraqi Gulf, and, the same set of assclowns that manufactured nine-eleven were in office under George Bush the First.
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