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Ben Bigfoot (left) is the world's smallest bigfoot, shown here in forced perspective at his repeated insistence.Reader’s note: I wrote this script for a professional comic ventriloquist. Imagine John is the ventriloquist and Ben is the puppet in his lap—in front of a live audience.

John – Hello everybody. I think you’ll agree with me this is a unique experience. An interview with, direct from the lost vastness of the wilderness, Ben, the world’s smallest Bigfoot.

Ben – Thank you.

John – Is it true?

Ben – What?

John – You’re the world’s smallest Bigfoot?

Ben – Do I look like I’m going to play NFL football next year?

John – How did you become the world’s smallest Bigfoot?

Ben – Too much smoking and no sex.

John – Really?

Ben – Isn’t that how you got that bald spot?

Yeah I'm thinking ChipotleDon't know what I'm in the mood to eat for lunch today.  The thing is, ever since we moved into our new offices I've been a bit overwhelmed by my new lunch options.  There's a Subway pretty close, and that's cool, and there's that awesome Mexican place down the road, but I don't feel like driving too far.  There's also that Thai buffet, which is really awesome, but it's a bit pricey and I don't wanna spend that much.  Yeah, I'm thinking Chipotle.

It's spicer than Qdoba, although one time I did find like three pieces of bone in my chicken burrito.  The rest of it was delicious.  For a long time I thought they were owned by the same company: I mean they're basically identical except for the spices.  But they're different companies.

Been watching the calories lately, so this will be a nice indulgence.  I like my soup n' salad ritual, but every now and then you gotta treat yourself.   Otherwise, what's the point?

June 7, 2012. Meadow's Alma Mater, Ravenswood, Connecticut

Can't be bothered to make a new graphic.Thank you, Chancellor Banks for that wonderful introduction.  Only rarely have I been called both a visionary and a genius so soon after sex, and my ego thanks you.  Dean McDonald, thank you as well for inviting me back to my alma mater -- at an embarassingly increased honorarium -- to deliver this commencement address before another gaggle of wide-eyed ingénues about to drunkenly stagger into the jobless wastelands.  We'll cover that in a few minutes.

First, let us reflect upon the last four years at this crotch-grabbingly expensive institution, that remains much less well-endowed than I am, as Chancellor Banks can attest.  It started back in September 2008, and what a fantastic month that was in American economic history.  You'd have to study the Great Depression's WikiPedia page to find a worse time to be racking up hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt to finance an education that will place you only a slim paygrade above the most slack-jawed yokel with a fresh H-1B work visa.

Yet against all good judgement, you took the plunge mere days following the Federal takeover of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac.  Fannie Mae, which sounds like your great grandmother's stripper name, along with Freddie controlled most of the real estate in America.  Predictably, panic ensued, much like what happened when you realized that the girl you hooked up with after the freshman mixer was Dean McDonald's neice. 

But probably less panicked than you were a week later when you realized those burning red pimples all over "Little Bill" weren't heat rash.

Suffices to say the economy of the United States all but collapsed before you knew your way around campus, including, unfortunately where the free condoms were.  Granted a lot of that was related to bath salts and bong use, but also because things were falling apart quickly.  Things falling apart would turn out to be a recurring theme during your time here at Yalvard.

By the time 2009 reared its powerfully ugly gob, your legendary Nobel prize winning professor of economics Dr. Charles H. Drasser II -- the bellwether of conservative politics and posterboy of Reaganomics -- had been indicted on 41 counts of soliciting sex from male prostitutes in a four state area.  This sent a powerful chill through conservative circles, all but ending Dr. Drasser's "Traditional Biblical Values" campaign so admired by talk-show hosts across the nation, not to mention destroying the brisk little cottage industry the L.G.B.T. community had created based on hating this guy.

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