But what actually seems to bother them most is having been called Keynesians, a charge they vigorously contest in the very first sentence. There are, it seems, some lines you cross at your own risk. So:

Imagine a leafy path among the groves of academe. From one direction saunters Professor S. H. (for Secular Humanist, of course) Softheart. From the other comes the erstwhile star of the Economics Department, M. F. (no, no, for Milton Friedman) Catoman, proceeding rapidly, his head down and his expression grim. Professor Softheart hails him. “Say there.”
“What is it?”
“I hear you’re a Keynesian now.”
“And just where did you hear that?”
“Oh, it’s all over the news. Everyone says that all you economists are Keynesians now.”
Professor Catoman shakes his head. “Oh, no. Not me. Not all of us.” He thrusts forward his shoulders aggressively.
Professor Softheart takes note of the threatening posture. It occurs to him that he has never much cared for Professor Catoman. “Keynesian,” he says in a rather childishly sing-song voice. “Keynesian, Keynesian.”
“I hope you know those are fighting words.” Professor Catoman lowers his briefcase to the ground, removes his glasses.
“Is that right, John Maynard?” Professor Softheart drops his books and does a little Muhammad Ali dance.
“Don’t you dare call me that.” Professor Catoman feints to the left, swings wildly from the right.
Parrying the blow, Professor Softheart steps inside to deliver a punch to the solar plexus, pauses to consider the ethics of the matter, then plunges his fist into Professor Catoman’s midsection.
“Damn you,” wheezes Professor Catoman. “Lower taxes.”
Professor Softheart drops his guard at that, receives a blow to the jaw.
“Less government.” Professor Catoman moves forward to press his advantage.
Professor Softheart dodges away. “Pump priming,” he protests. “Jumpstarting.”
“Less government. Lower taxes.” Professor Catoman punches on.
“Is that all you know? Lower taxes and less government?” Professor Softheart recovers, jabs with his left.
“That’s all you need to know to be an economist.”
“Just two things?”
“How could you ever earn a degree if you had to learn more than two things?”
Professor Softheart, who feels he has had to learn several more than two things just to get a degree in Literature, is now truly enraged. Remembering that there are no rules in a knife fight or an academic controversy, he head-butts Professor Catoman and sends him sprawling. He checks to make sure his opponent is still breathing, then retrieves his books. As he strolls off, he sings, “John Maynard Keynes, he’s our man. He knows more dead than Alan Greenspan.”
Groaning, Professor Catoman struggles to his feet. He puts on his glasses and picks up his briefcase. Fuming, he thinks, This isn’t over. Not by a long shot. I’ve got friends. I’ve got connections. I can get a right-wing foundation to run an ad, by God. That’ll show him.

And that’s how it happened. To paraphrase the late, great James Thurber, if you don’t believe it, you could Google it.