- Category: The Editor's Mess
- Published: Wednesday, June 24, 2015
- Written by Scott Meadow
Assembled graduates, friends, regents, wealthy donors, far poorer parents, hangers-on, dilettantes, dim-wits, and of course Chancellor Faraday, it is my highly compensated pleasure to welcome you to today's graduation ceremony for the Class of 2015. It has been three years since I've had the pleasure of addressing the student body here at Yalvard.
Many things rush to your mind when asked to give a commencement address. "How large is my fee?" for example. Will I sound like Steve Jobs or Bob Dylan? How do I adequately express my resentment of over-privileged youth while still jamming some hard won life lessons down the gullet of a grotesquely debauched and hung-over crowd?
The answer is you can't. Like Bob De Niro recently reminded another groups of graduates, "You're fucked."
As to the other answers, well let's just say my fee has already financed a debauched week of my own in the south of France and had enough left over to settle the mortgage on my villa in St. Lucia. But I digress. Let's return to you.
You were born in or about 1993, a year that brought us "Sleepless in Seattle," caused Haddaway to ponder "What is love?" and saw the debut of one of history's greatest television shows "The X-Files." You were just babies, but I had recently graduated from college myself, which is merely one of the deeply depressing realizations I had while penning this masterpiece.