Off the Hook

Garrison Keillor is forgiven.
Being a fair man, I will exclude certain old people from my enemies' list if they admit that I am right. Extra points to them if they are eloquent about it.
Today, Garrison Keillor gets the extra points.
I keep running into retirees in their mid-fifties, free to collect seashells and write bad poetry and shoot video of the Grand Canyon, and goody for them, but they're not the future. My college kids are graduating with a 20-pound ball of debt chained to their ankles. That's not right and you know it.

This country is squashing its young. We're sending them to die in a war we don't believe in anymore. We're cheating them so we can offer tax relief to the rich. And we're stealing from them so that old gaffers like me, who want to live forever, can go in for an MRI if we have a headache.

All he has to do now to get the Frankie Machine Medal of Honor is write a column or two about the Twin Cities' homicide and meth addiction rates.