My commencement speech to the class of 2012

9:19 pm - Tue, Jun 5, 2012: 23 notes

My commencement speech to the class of 2012

(My college asked me to speak at graduation this weekend. Here’s my speech. *with notes included*)

Good afternoon class of 2012! *wait 20-30 seconds for raucous applause to die down*

You guys are just too much.

What you have done on this day is remarkable. But what I have done is remarkable-r. *pause for laughs*

Just kidding, ya’ll. I’m honored to speak here at my alma mater — Framingham State College. Or — as we like to call it — the Harvard of Framingham! *show that million-dollar smile, pause for a sec, they get it*

My road to where you sit to day was not easy.

My freshmen year I had a roommate who drank every night of the week, never went to class, and used my Xbox without my permission. He was an alcoholic. But I was, too, so that wasn’t the hard part.

The hard part was dealing with the aftermath of 9/11.

Just kidding.

It was the classes, amirite? *shrug*

But seriously *take off cap, loosen that weird scarf thing they have me wear* you guys. College was hard. But I — you — we all made it. We stayed up until 3 a.m. writing papers. Juggled friends, sleep, class. Dealt with paying for our high school girlfriend’s abortion when we went home on Christmas break because we were too black-out drunk on Tecate and *air quotes* “Didn’t need a condom, don’t be so uptight about it” and suffered through that lab taught by Mr. Spinaker! *point to him*

That guy! *thumb point to him*

But let me tell you from experience. The real world is ready for you. Begging for you. Whispering *get up reeeeal close to the mic* in your ear “It’s OK. I’m on the pill” ready for you.

Right out of college I landed an internship at a magazine. I was promptly fired. That’s life ya’ll!

But hashtag real talk.

After, I worked as: a freelance writer, a dishwasher, a warehouse packer, dishwasher again, a Newbury Comics warehouse packer, dishwasher a third time, stand-up comedian (unpaid *wait for laughs, them to throw money on stage*), a reporter, dishwasher a fourth time, and, finally, professional college commencement speech writer.

Just MOTHERFUCKING kidding, you *Steve Martin impression* WILD AND CRAZY GUYS.

But where was I? *don’t say that*

You will succeed. You will fail. You will love. You will hate. You will find a five-dollar bill in your pocket. You’ll spend that on a latte. You’ll get a job. You’ll look at cat videos on the internet at that job. You’ll say, “I swear Mr. Jenkins, I’ll have that report in my midnight.” But you won’t. You’ll smoke a weed/cigarette hybrid you rolled the night before in the parking lot. You’ll get fired. You’ll settle out of court on the wrongful termination case because you have pictures of your boss looking at bestiality porn. You’ll have stress-sex with Emily again and end up crying on the lawn at 4:30 a.m. wondering how the fuck it all got so damn fucked up.

But always remember this: you fucking DID IT. You graduated.

As the wise Yoda said: You shall not PASSSSS — Mr. Spinaker’s lab! *bow for applause, pick up roses thrown on the stage, take off gown, throw it at security, run from security, drive away, fake own death, start new life in Mexico*

Jason Cook is a writer/comedian who lives in Massachusetts. You may have read his stuff in the Cape Cod Times (big time) if you vacation on the Cape/have rich parents. He tweets here and tumbles here.