By Mack Callahan | Asking for a Friend
Well folks, the Kansas Legislature did it. They cracked the case. Forget potholes, teacher shortages, or the fact that half our state’s water system was built during the Dust Bowl—too many poor kids got a free lunch.
Let’s all take a moment to thank our tireless public servants who, after months of burning the midnight oil, discovered that a bunch of third graders in threadbare shoes might’ve eaten a chicken nugget they weren’t technically “entitled” to.
Scandalous. Absolutely scandalous.
According to a brand-new state audit—conveniently commissioned by lawmakers who’ve never met a public program they didn’t want to gut—some kids got free lunch when their families made slightly too much money.
And let me be clear: we’re not talking about rich kids faking poverty. We’re talking about working families who might be $100 over the line because someone picked up an extra shift at Dollar General. Burn them.
Now the usual suspects are clutching their pearls about “fraud” and “waste”, as if a slice of square school pizza and an expired milk carton is what’s bleeding Kansas dry. Meanwhile, $1.4 billion in corporate tax cuts? Totally chill. Nothing to see there.
But that’s the game, right?
Blame the kid with peanut butter on his face, not the billionaire hiding money in the Caymans.
What’s Actually Going On?
Let’s talk real life for a second. It’s 2025. Everything costs more—housing, groceries, gas, even the air feels taxed. Families are barely hanging on, and schools are underfunded.
But instead of making meals free for every kid like a sane, modern society, we’ve turned lunch into a paperwork maze. Miss one form? No nuggets for you, Timmy.
So yes—some kids who “technically” didn’t qualify still got fed.
That’s not a scandal. That’s mercy. That’s grace. That’s… functional society stuff.
Mack’s Modest Proposal
Here’s a wild idea:
Instead of calling an audit every time a poor kid eats a sandwich, maybe we audit the lack of empathy in the Capitol. Or the fact that school districts are still fundraising for toilet paper.
If Kansas lawmakers are serious about protecting taxpayer dollars, they could start by skipping lunch themselves. Give those cafeteria savings back to the people.
Or better yet, walk a mile in a kid’s busted-up Velcro shoes—hungry, humiliated, and trying to learn long division with a stomach growling louder than the morning bell.
Because at the end of the day, feeding a child should never be controversial.
Not in Kansas. Not anywhere.
