Andrew Gonzales, 18
Northglenn High School
Broomfield, Colorado
I’m not up here to talk about sweaty undergarments, though. I’m not even up here because of my charm and good looks. I have been granted this lovely opportunity to speak to compensate for the misery that went into the earning of the title “valedictorian”, and all the misery that will envelope the rest of my life as a result of it. Whenever I can’t figure out how the pump works at the gas station, I’ll hear, “And you were valedictorian?” If I try to pull on a door that says push, it will be, “You were valedictorian?” Get caught picking my nose on the jumbo-tron at a baseball game, and the jeers will assault me: “Hey, jackass, were you really valedictorian?”
The purpose of a graduation speech, as it has been laid out before me, is not to complain, though, but rather to bore the hell out of you. That’s why my speech will last about four hours and seventeen minutes, filled with uninspiring poetry readings, bland quotes, meaningless anecdotes and the traditional candied assortment of shameless clichés and platitudes. Of course, I do realize that my speech is a compulsory formality, and that, in all likelihood, nothing I say will haunt your memories for more than a few minutes after we leave. I could just as well say a random string of words: toaster-oven, eructate, dysentery, Communism, shoehorn, Punky Brewster, Fig Newton.
It seems wrong though to dismiss you with desultory phrases about diseases, old TV shows, Marxist documents and disgusting fruit and cake snacks, though. So, for the rest of this speech I am going to pretend that I am in a position to give the advice you will need when we enter the quote unquote “real world” soon. In a few years, you’ll all have your very first taste of alcohol, and, who knows, maybe even a couple years later you’ll experience your first kiss. A whole magical world of delights will be opening up to you, disguised as several more years of arduous schoolwork and a lifetime in a tedious job. To make sure you don’t screw it up, I want to tell you all to be honest. I don’t necessarily mean with regards to other people; lying is an important part of any relationship. I want you to be honest with yourselves. When your cute little teenage faces and bodies curdle into ugly lumps of fat, admit it. Don’t go on Jerry Springer and whistle through the gap in your teeth that you are sexy. When your hair flies south for the winter of your life, please, please don’t grow out the sides and comb it over. Nobody will believe that you have hair.
What I’m saying may seem pessimistic, but the important part of this honesty lesson is humor. Don’t succumb to the awesome power of your baldness--laugh at it. Polish your head and strut that shiny bulb around with pride. So, you’re overweight. Try to solve the problem, but until it has been resolved, bring moomoos back into style. Humor has an amazing power. It emancipates us from the oppressive, uncontrollable facts of life. It emboldens us, enabling us to accept our condition and move on. The insane man has no sense of humor, but the man in possession of it has a rational, realistic view of the world. He can laugh equally hard when he fails as when he triumphs. Laughter makes us human; Koko the gorilla may know sign language, and could probably slaughter most of us on a standardized test, but that hairy ape will never laugh at George Carlin or Chris Rock or Carrot Top. Well, no one laughs at Carrot Top.
In conclusion, you are the future and follow your dreams and a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush yadda yadda yadda. But, most importantly, have a sense of humor and cherish this gift of spasms and primitive noises as a part of human nature, before you age to the point where your heart will stop if you laugh. Laugh at life’s ironies and disappointments. Laugh at your society, your friends, and yourself. Laugh at Carrot Top even, not because he is funny, but because he thinks he is funny, which is so pathetic and absurd that it actually is funny. I’m going to end with a fitting quote. It’s not by Jefferson or Emerson as is customary in graduation speeches, but by the Harvard graduate, talk-show host, and comedian, Conan O’Brien. “If you can laugh at yourself loud and hard every time you fall, people will think you’re drunk.” Thank you Northglenn High class of 2003. I hope to laugh at you all again in ten years.
See also:
s you inhale the aggregate odor of your senior class for the last time, I’m sure there are many burning questions racing through your minds: “Will I find my place in the world?” If you’re lucky. “Am I really going to graduate a virgin?” Yeah, probably. “Who is that incredibly handsome young man addressing us, and how long do we have the privilege of listening to him?” Howdy, Andrew Gonzales here, and hopefully not long; I realize that your robes are making you sweat, your thongs are making you uncomfortable, and my use of the words “virgin” and “thongs” is making your parents sweaty and uncomfortable.