I got a letter from my college today telling me that it had been 15 years since we graduated, and there were a number of options for where our "class gift" could be spent.
I nearly spit out my Diet Sierra Mist.
I hated my college. I graduated not because I was smart, but because I was stubborn. I can think of several thousand more worthy things to do with money than to give it to my college, including set it on fire, bury it in the woods, or grind it up and use it as mulch.
In summary, they can keep on waiting for my portion of the Class Gift to arrive.
A bon mot from Jeffrey Goldberg of the Atlantic Monthly: "In any case, trying to bring a racist to civilization is like trying to teach a dog to sing Verdi."