Point-Counterpoint: How to Solve The Debt Crisis?


James Bates, Jr.By James Bates Jr., Madison High Valedictorian, Class of 2011 and obnoxiously gifted 15-year old video gaming entrepreneur 

The Debt Problem? Too Many Old People!

There are too many old people. Or more precisely, too much plowed into the old people we’ve got.

“Invest in the long-term future. Not tomorrow’s dose of Lipitor”

The answer to economic growth is to invest in the future.  I’m talking about investing in the real long-term future. Not tomorrow’s dose of Lipitor.

Do we want to fund chemo for a bunch of self-indulgent former yuppies who smoked, drank, ate high-fat diets, burned fossil fuels, cut down the rain forest and baked in the sun for seventy years?

Or do we want to have clean energy technology, flying cars, virtual reality and Facebook chips embedded up our pale asses? Yes, that’s the future we could have. But there they are in the way. Those same parents who wouldn’t buy you that latest Xbox. That wouldn’t let you text your friends in class. That use plastic bags at the store. That don’t laugh at Jon Stewart. (And, Stewart, don’t push your luck, old man.)

We have to shift our resources from entitlements for the elderly toward investment in the things we and our little brothers and sisters need. The writing is on the wall, old people. You are going to die. What’s the point of robbing us to prolong your miserable existence?

Rise up Generation Z! Unite! We’ve got to take control. Stop tweeting for a day and take an old person mountain biking! Generation Y, join us and we’ll spare you in the coming revolution!

Old people, we need you to fall on your swords. Do the honorable thing, keep some dignity, accept your decay and get on the boat to Valhalla.


James Bates, Sr.By James Bates Sr., retired auto worker and father of James Bates Jr., Madison High Valedictorian, Class of 2011 and obnoxiously gifted 15-year old video gaming entrepreneur 

The Debt Problem? Ungrateful, Spoiled Bastards!

You ungrateful Bastard! Your mother and I worked ourselves sick so you could have a cushy life. You’ve taken over most of our house with your techno-crap. You’ll never move out. You room is a giant hamper full of dirty underwear and socks. You survive on sugary drinks and caramel-cream-soy-mocha-lattes. You owe us.

“Sitting in the dark ‘tweeting’ each other useless dribble”

Your vision of the future is a bunch of pale, anti-social, vampire-like creatures sitting in the dark “tweeting” each other useless dribble. A mutual, virtual “Like” fest. What my generation should do is ship you all off to Valhalla. Then we can start a new next generation through the magic of fertility drugs. Yes, one of the many great inventions we “old people” contributed. Yeah, that guy that invented the Internet? Al Gore. He’s old. And who do you think will make a clean-energy break-through? Some virtual skateboarder using one of your idiotic games?

The whole lot of you need to man up, get out, get a real job and contribute to social security and medicaid. Show some respect …

[Editors note: James, Sr. had a stroke. His wife Tricia contributed the following.]

Dear, don’t listen to your father. He’s just a little upset. It’s the blood pressure medicine from Canada talking. You and your little company can stay in the basement as long as you’d like. I’ve notified the school that you’ll be out for a couple of days due to stress. I’ll bring you a Trader Joe’s pizza when I get back from my cosmetic surgery and Pilates.