This should come as no surprise: How Trigger Warnings Make College Students Helpless, Humorless, and Stupid. Hopefully most of them will outgrow it. Excerpt:
Picture a conference that exists for the following purpose: to give student-leaders of various colleges the opportunity to preview stand-up acts and decide which comedians they would like to invite to their campuses. No, you are not picturing some imaginary hell. You are picturing a very real event: the annual convention of the National Association for Campus Activities.
(Were you wondering why comedians like Jerry Seinfeld and Chris Rock are refusing to perform on college campuses? It’s because of these assholes.)
This convention takes center-stage in a riveting, recent article by The Atlantic’s Caitlin Flanagan, who explains why students’ excessive deference to political correctness obligates comedians to self-censor if they want to play the lucrative college circuit. A snapshot:
A young gay man with a Broadway background named Kevin Yee sang novelty songs about his life, producing a delirium of affection from the audience. “We love you, Kevin!” a group of kids yelled between numbers. He invited students to the front of the auditorium for a “gay dance party,” and they charged down to take part. His last song, about the close relationship that can develop between a gay man and his “sassy black friend,” was a killer closer; the kids roared in delight, and several African American young women in the crowd seemed to be self-identifying as sassy black friends.
I assumed Yee would soon be barnstorming the country. But afterward, two white students from an Iowa college shook their heads: no. He was “perpetuating stereotypes,” one of them said, firmly. “We’re a very forward-thinking school,” she told me. (Translation: We’re a non-thinking school.) “That thing about the ‘sassy black friend’? That wouldn’t work for us.” Many others, apparently, felt the same way: Yee ended up with 18 bookings—a respectable showing, but hardly a reflection of the excitement in the room when he performed.
If you’ll allow me to indulge a bit of rhetoric from my youth: What a bunch of pussies. With self-cocooning ideals like this, none of these special, precious little snowflakes will be prepared to manage themselves in the outside world.
It will be interesting, in perhaps 20 years, to look at the suicide rate of all the precious little snowflakes that are in these “institutions of higher learning” (use of scare quotes intentional) today.
What will happen when they leave the ivory towers of academia and realize that most of the world doesn’t give an ounce of shit about their widdle feelings?
Growing up in the 1960s and 1970s couldn’t have been more different. We got in fights, we argued, we called each other names. 
And yet, somehow, we grew up knowing how to deal with the world – and were almost certainly stronger for it. We learned how to deal with people who didn’t like us; we learned how to ignore people who said things we didn’t like.
I’d bet serious money that not one of the precious little snowflakes on the National Association for Campus Activities has ever thrown a punch, or taken one.
Sooner or later most of these nitwits will have to leave academia. Sooner or later most of these nitwits will have to find actual paying work. And sooner or later they will find themselves subject to criticism, deserved or undeserved. Smart money says they won’t know how to deal with it.
Best case is that a considerable amount of whining will ensue. Worst case… Well, I think you can figure that out.
