"Commencement" Addresses

There have been a number of "commencement addresses" floating around the internet.  None of them have actually been given, and alas, I do not have appropriate credit information on where some of them originated, but they are humourous.

Here are the ones that I have seen so far.  Send additional ones to paul@eykamp.com

The Original | Darth Vader | White Zinfindel

The "Original" erronously attributed to Kurt Vonnegut's commencement address at MIT
Actually by Mary Schmich

Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '97:

Wear sunscreen

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Sing.

Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.

Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.

Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble, and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.


Darth Vader's Commencement Address 

Darth Vader gives a commencement address...
Ladies and Gentlemen of the Vassar College class of '99...embrace the
Dark Side. If I could offer you only one tip for the future, The Dark
Side would be it. The long-term benefits of The Dark Side have been
proved by the Dark Lords of The Sith, whereas the rest of my advice has
no basis more reliable than my own meandering cruelty and conquests.

I will dispense this advice now...

Enjoy the power and beauty of your planet. Oh, never mind, you will
never understand the power and the beauty of your planet until after the
Empire has destroyed it in a futile attempt to find the Rebel Base. But
trust me, in twenty years, you will look back at photos of your home and
recall, in a way you can't grasp now, how blissfully ignorant you were,
and how fabulous your planet really looked before it was a pile of
burning space rubble. Your planet is not as dull as you imagine.

Don't worry about the Rebellion - or worry, but know that worrying is as
effective as trying to make the Kessel run in a landspeeder.

The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed
your twisted mind. The kind that fire a direct hit into your reactor
core at 4 PM on some idle Tuesday.

Do in one Death Star officer every day.

Scheme.

Don't disobey the Emperor's orders; don't put up with people who disobey
yours.

Hate.

Don't waste your time on Storm troopers. They can't hit the broad side
of a barn.

The battle is long and in the end, it's only with yourself...and your
idiot son.

Remember the prophecies of the Emperor; ignore the whinings of your
bratty upstart farm boy of a son. If you succeed in doing this, tell me
how.

Keep your old light saber, but change your costume slightly with every
sequel.

Destroy.

Don't feel guilty if you have no misgivings about joining the Dark Side.
The most interesting people I know didn't have any respect at 22 for
their victim's lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year olds I know
still don't.

Have plenty of minions.

Be kind to your right hand, you'll miss it when it's gone.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe your son will join you,
maybe he won't. Maybe you'll convince your daughter to become a dark
Jedi and assist you in your campaign of hatred and destruction; maybe
she'll become a rebel leader and marry a scruffy-looking nerf herder.

Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate
yourself either - your destiny is guided by the Force - so is everybody
else's.

Enjoy the Force. Exploit it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it
or what other people think of your "sorcerer's ways." The ability to
destroy a planet is insignificant next to its power.

Kill. Even if you have no one to kill but a meaningless extra.

Listen to what the Emperor has forseen, even if you don't follow his
prophecies.

Do not take your mask off, it will only make you feel ugly. And
vulnerable.

Get to know your parents. You'll never know when they'll turn out to be
your arch enemies.

Be nice to your siblings. They are your best link to your Jedi lineage
and the ones most likely to become Jedi in the future.

Understand that lackeys come and go. But with a precious few, you
should keep from crushing their tracheas. Work hard to bridge the gaps
in geography and lifestyle, for as the more desperate you become, the
more you will need to send bounty hunters to do your dirty work for you.

Live on Dagobah once, but leave before you get foot rot.

Live on Tattooine once, but leave before you get heat stroke.

Travel. Preferably in your own custom TIE Fighter.

Accept certain inalienable truths: rebellions will rise, the Imperial
Senate will have to be disbanded, you too will get old. And when you
do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, rebels were easily
crushed, the Imperial Senate was subservient, and citizens respected
their Emperor.

Respect your Emperor.

Don't expect your son to rule the galaxy with you. Maybe he'll give in
to his anger, maybe he'll strike you down, but you'll never know when
he'll whine pleadingly and you'll find yourself turning to the Light
Side and saving his sorry butt.

Don't strike down your old Jedi Master, or he will become more powerful
than you could possibly imagine.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply
it, or I'll crush your throat. Advice is a form of nostalgia.
Dispensing it is a way of fishing your humanity from the depths of sin,
wiping it off, putting black body armor over the ugly parts and
redeeming it for more than its worth.

But trust me on the Dark Side.

The "White Zinfindel" Speech

 

Don't drink white zinfandel.

Even if you like it. If I could offer you only one tip for the future,
this would be it. The fact that drinking white zin causes individuals to
earn irreversible reputations for bad taste has been proven by sociologists
the world over. The rest of my advice, on the other hand, has no basis more
reliable than chain e-mail sent to me when I really should have been
working. I will dispense this advice to you now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your virility. Oh, never mind. You will not
understand the power and beauty of your virility until you're choking on
Viagara like a frigging multi-vitamin. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll
look back at your sexual prowess and it'll hit you in a way that you can't
grasp now how it's not so bad to come too early-and how fabulous it is to
come at all.

Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is about
as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation while reading Salman
Rushdie's The Satanic Verses backwards while balancing a plate on your head.
The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your
worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday, when
you decide to surprise your spouse and come home from work early, and your
best friend's Corvette is parked in the driveway.

Do one thing every day that scares the shit out of you. Like walking into
South Central L.A. with a hood on your head.

Fart.

Don't be reckless with other people's cars, especially if they're more
expensive than your own. Don't put up with people who are reckless with
yours, unless they have lots of insurance.

Get drunk.

Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes
you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, you can always get plastic
surgery and trade up anyway.

Remember compliments you receive. Return insults a thousandfold. If you
succeed in doing this, tell me how. I love a good laugh.

Keep your old love letters. The love letters will remind you of how your
spouse wasn't always a nagging bitch/jerk. Throw away old bank statements.
Especially the ones from the secret account your spouse knows nothing about.

Don't feel guilty if you don't know what to do with your life. The most
interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with
their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.
They tell me about it all the time as they wrap themselves up in a blanket
and roll their shopping carts down Broadway
in Santa Monica, mumbling "skittles, skittles, skittles."

Get plenty of calcium. Maybe you'll be featured in a "Got Milk" ad and
make lots of money, like Steve Young, and Jennifer Love-Hewitt.

Be kind to your knees. Be kind to your breasts. You'll miss them when
your breasts are at your knees.

Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe
you won't. And maybe you're going to be the one that saves me, and after
all, you're my wonderwall.

Remember that you can't congratulate yourself too much, or berate other
people enough. Life is half chance, so if you come out ahead, God must love
you more than other people.

Dance, even if you're white.

Don't read directions. They're just a ploy engineered by paper
manufacturers to sell unnecessary paper to the world.

Do not read beauty magazines. Porn is much more fun.

Get to know your parents. They're always good for a couple of bucks when
you're in between jobs.

Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past, and might
make more money than you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but Star Trek on UPN is forever. So
are a few good friends. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and
lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people
who remember you when you had hair.

Live in New York City once, but leave before someone ties you up in your
apartment and chops your head off.

Live in Northern California once, but leave before you start wearing
leather and hanging out with people named "Bruce."

Burp.

Accept certain inalienable truths: You will always work too hard, for too
little money. Your wife's boobs will sag. So will yours. Prices will
soar, and no matter how much money you make, you won't be able to
afford to buy the house you really, really want. You, too, will get old,
and when you do, you will fantasize that when you were young, your wife's
boobs didn't sag, prices were reasonable, and you didn't care how much money
you had, because living in a filthy apartment with four other guys
off-campus with a cabinet full of Top Ramen and Lucky Lager was all you
needed.

Don't expect anyone else to support you. Unless they're really, really rich.
Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you
never know when either one will be dipped into by someone else.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be liberal with supplying it. People
love that. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of
fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly
parts and recycling it so that somebody else, younger than you, can get screwed
over just like you did, and you can point and laugh.

But trust me on the white zinfandel.