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A Special Balls Deep Message To The Class Of 2010

Illustration for article titled A Special Balls Deep Message To The Class Of 2010

It's graduation time across the country. I've done this post the past two years running, and I don't see new college grads getting any less annoying. So we'd best do it again.

As you know, this time of year brings any number of asshole celebrities and dipshit politicians to college campuses to regale you outgoing seniors with sage advice and plug some fucking book they just had someone else ghostwrite. Nothing they tell you will be worth a shit. And you know why? Because they aren't really there for YOU. They're there because they get their rocks off on being considered inspirational enough to merit a celebrity grad speaker gig. OOOH, LOOGIT ME! I'M OPRAH WINFREY AND MY LIFE EXPERIENCE PROVIDES ME WITH GREAT WISDOM! I've been to these graduation ceremonies. Half the speakers use the occasion to list their fucking resumes. They can go die, for all I care.


Graduations are a ruse, designed to convince parents that the $50,000 a year they spent for you to be a psychology major was worth the money. Graduation speakers act like every student in the audience wants to change the world and CAN. Both of these things are lies. There are only four people per graduating class who really believe they can change the world, and they're the freakshows who spent all four years living in the Christian housing and joining foreign language clubs. I hate these people, and so do you. The remaining 99.8% of all graduating students share the exact same life goals, as determined by gender.

1) Get rich by doing as little work as humanly possible
2) Fuck as many attractive women as possible
3) Drink
4) Get married only when forced
5) Raise children who can make you rich if you yourself cannot

1) Get rich by doing as little work as humanly possible
2) Marry someone who will fertilize you with attractive babies
3) Own a home so spacious and tastefully appointed that all your friends feel like dogshit any time they enter it

Those are the goals. They are entirely selfish and shallow, and I do not begrudge you them for one moment. You gotta do what you gotta do.


But let's suppose you're one of the four losers who takes all this shit to heart. One of those overly earnest pricks who really thinks they came in to freshman year an unmolded lump of clay and became, through the magic of learning, a fully formed human being. Yes, you! YOU LITTLE ACHIEVER YOU! How can you change the world? Well, listen. These grad speakers are going to be way too vague about what the world expects from you. They'll tell you to be nice to people and be passionate about what you do blah blah blah. Whatever. I'm not into that. I'm into details. I'm into telling you the precise things you need to accomplish if you'd really like to improve the world. Consider this your real life to-do list. If you can't do any of these things, well then you can jolly well go play in a bathtub full of razorblades.

INVENT THE FLYING HOVERBOARD. Yes. That's right. You heard me. Invent it. Right now. Don't look so gung ho about taking on life NOW, do you? Not when someone has given you actual work to do.


There isn't a man on Earth who doesn't wish he could hop on a hoverboard and McFly 1,000 feet in the air to a floating 23rd century taco stand. Hundreds of graduating classes have come and gone and NOT invented the flying hoverboard yet. Wanna be special? Wanna be remembered? Want everyone to say, "Hey, that Pepi Hamburger made a DIFFERENCE"? Then don't go to Africa and work with AIDS babies or something stupid like that. Invent my ass a fucking hoverboard, and make it light and maneuverable. And don't give me some shit like, "But it's not actually feasible. The power source alone would weigh too much, and balance would be a constant problem. Wahhhhhhh Wahhhhhhh!" I don't hear Steve Jobs accepting that kind of excuse when his cancer-riddled skeleton hosts an ideation meeting. Those old 1950's newsreels used to say we'd have restaurants on the moon by now. But we don't. Know whose fault that is? YOURS, ASSHOLE. Make a hoverboard. And make it affordable. It's worthless to me if I gotta shell out more than, like, a grand for it.

DON'T TELL ME MY FOOD IS COMING OUT RIGHT NOW IF IT REALLY ISN'T. Most of you dipshits will be forced to work in the service industry right out of school. Lemme tell you right now. I can tolerate slow service. I really can. Even with the kids screaming for dinner and crawling under the table and walking over to other tables and trying to eat some other family's food. That all blows, but that's what I get for taking the children out of the fruit cellar. But what I cannot accept are LIES. Don't tell me my food is coming out right now. I know it isn't. I know you completely forgot to punch in my order until I asked you where the fucking food was. Otherwise, you would have fired the entrées right as the apps were being cleared, like anyone with a brain. But you didn't. You had to go and punch that shit in all over again and FUCK ME IN THE ASS with promises of food coming soon. Then I have to decide whether or not to exercise the nuclear option and leave, which is agonizing. Then, just as I finally decide FUCK IT, WE'RE LEAVING, out you come with my goddamn mango chicken. Then I have no choice but to sit back down and eat it because I can't wait to eat any longer. And that is an angry, horrible meal. AND IT'S ALL YOUR GODDAMN FAULT. Be honest and let me know you fucked it all up so I can then leave and not tip you.


IF YOU'RE THE DUDE HOLDING THE CAMERA DURING A GONZO PORN SHOOT, PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP. Jesus Christ, Jules Jordan. This isn't a talk show. I'm jerking off here. Your dick is a stand-in for mine. You talking over the action shatters the fourth boner wall. Fuckhead. Who decided this was okay in porn? I remember Drew Carey telling a story from ten years ago or so. He was visiting a porn set and this chick was banging this guy cowgirl style. So the male actor says, "Oh, look at those tits." The director screamed, "Cut! I said no fucking ad libbing!" And he was right. No ad libbing. Silence, please. Otherwise, I feel like an ex-con watching this shit.

MAKE IT SO I CAN ACTUALLY HEAR A HYBRID CAR WHEN IT'S COMING DOWN THE FUCKING STREET. For shit's sake, these cars may as well drive down the road in a black catsuit. I don't hear a hybrid car coming until my head is embedded in the fucking steering wheel, and Ed Begley Jr. in his corn oil Prius there is too busy jerking off to the MPG monitor that he's not even looking at the road. These cars are silent killers. They're like Christine, if Christine was an aggressively liberal dipshit. Give that thing a horn that plays La Cucaracha, or a Bubb Rubb exhaust whistle.


INVENT A ROBOT MAID THAT I CAN LOCK IN MY BASEMENT AND SEXUALLY ABUSE. I have no idea why they made Rosie from the Jetsons so frumpy. It's a cartoon robot. Make her a robot French maid, with the black whore uniform and stuff. We need sexbots to lock in our basement and absolutely PUMMEL. More importantly, I need that sexbot to do tedious bullshit. You grads don't know this yet, but soon your lives will soon consist of nothing but you having to do some GODDAMN thing. You do dishes, but they pile up again. You take out the trash, and it's full again five fucking seconds later. You gotta pay bills, and buy wedding gifts, and think about what day care to put your stupid kid in. No time to watch "Lost" for you tonight, Jimmy! You have to plan an open house! Get me a robot to do this crap, because life is unbearable otherwise.

MAKE IT SO I CAN USE BOLD AND ITALICS ON TWITTER. This is the future of social networking in the world, and I can't even change the goddamn font? Even Microsoft Word lets me do that, and Word is ASS. Twitter doesn't let you do shit, and its 3MB server located in an Albany deli shuts down every three seconds. Improve this service, so that I may more efficiently tell the world about my bowel movements.


PLEASE INSTALL ZYKLON B GAS SHOWERS IN ANY MOVIE AUDITORIUM SHOWING SEX AND THE CITY 2. Because sometimes, the best way to help the world is to TAKE lives, not to save them. It's an important cleansing exercise.

MAKE A HIGHER QUALITY MASS MARKET BREAST IMPLANT. I watched the Hawaii episode of "Modern Family" the other night, and poor Julie Bowen looks like she has a sidewalk seam running down her sternum. I could bowl into that thing. And that's a Hollywood actress' fake tits. Lord knows how many poor non-famous women have been butchered in a similar fashion. It's 2010. At this point, we should have fake tits that don't look like boulders fisted up into a woman through her bellybutton. That's on you, bio majors.


LEARN TO FUCKING PARK. See those lines painted on the ground? Those are meant to denote an individual parking spot. Don't park so that your wheels are touching them. Park so that there is an equal amount of space between the line and your wheels on either side. And make sure your wheels are PARALLEL to those lines. Don't park fucking crooked. Especially YOU, Mr. Pickup truck with a Confederate Flag sticker on the back. DURRRRR I DRIVE A TRUCK AND I CAN PARK LIKE I WANT CAUSE I'M ALL ABOUT FREEDOM DURRRRRR! You fucking eat ass, redneck. All it takes is one asshole parking wrong to fuck up the WHOLE row. Then I gotta park crooked because everyone else is parking crooked and that makes me look bad, because them people think I started it and I didn't. Fucking park right.

GET WEED SOLD IN EVERY CONVENIENCE STORE IN AMERICA. Oh, are you the dipshit running the student government and wants to be all politicky? You listen to me, Leslie Knope. You get me weed sold in this country the way it should be: Openly, cheaply, and with excellent distribution. Can we please end this whole dispensary/prescription charade? Just get it legalized and park it behind the counter next to the Swisher Sweets. If you can't accomplish even that seemingly simple task, you aren't worth a bottle of my old piss. Politicians are child molesters with bad hair.


MAKE IT LEGAL FOR ME TO CARRY A CONCEALED GUN THAT HAS BLANKS, AND MAKE IT LEGAL FOR ME TO SHOOT THOSE BLANKS AT THOSE WHO DISPLEASE ME. I don't want to kill anyone. I just want them to know I'd LIKE to kill them. Like this cunt who was in front of me at the dry cleaners yesterday. This woman had a bag of clothes with her and was deciding AT THE COUNTER what she needed dry cleaned and what she didn't. "You know what? I think I can get that stain out at home." You know what, Missy? I WANT TO FUCKING SHOOT YOU IN THE FACE.

FIGURE OUT A WAY TO GET MY IPOD TO STOP CHOOSING THE SONG I LIKE LEAST IN MY LIBRARY FOR THE FIRST SONG ON ANY SHUFFLE CYCLE. This should not be fucking hard. Okay? 30% of any iPod owner's library contains songs they don't really ever want to listen to. Songs they used to like and don't like anymore. Album cuts they didn't take out when transferring the whole album. I'm far too lazy to remove this shit myself, and I'm far too lazy to make playlist of all the songs on their I actually enjoy. I would like the iPod to make a note of whenever I skip a song after it plays for two seconds. That should make it clear to Mr. iPod there that I don't actually like that Clash song. I just have it there so that people think I'm really into The Clash. So remember that shit and don't bring it up again.



I live in Boston (yes, near Quinzeee!!!) and on Sunday the family went to the aquarium with the kid. It was cold, it was a three-day weekend, and yes we needed to get out of the house. The aquarium was definitely crowded and I expected that, but I have a complaint. I would estimate that about 25% of the people there did not have kids. The people on dates have no excuse. Go have brunch, go on some other dipshit Boston tourist thing, there's a lot of them. If you don't have kids, stay away from the Science Museum and Aquarium, etc. Especially if your the type of person who is going to be kind of pissed when kids are yelling and screaming and running their assess off. I would suggest that these people go check out the museum in the later hours or during weekdays when parents aren't looking for anything to occupy their kids for a few hours.


Precisely. I will do everything in my power to keep my kids from annoying you. Not every parent is like that, but I am because I rule. But if you're showing up at Uncle Bob's Candy Store And Pony Ride Emporium at midday on a Tuesday expecting solace, then you are a fucking idiot and have learned NOTHING.

Got all that, graduates? I don't think those are impossible orders to carry out. I know they aren't. Especially that iPod one. You little shits are good with computers like that. Wanna change the world? Make it a better place? Well, kiddo, there's the list. Execute it to my satisfaction and maybe we'll deem your class worthy of mild praise, instead of thinking of it the way we all do right now: As a bunch of mouth-breathing dicks here to try to take our place in the workforce.


I wouldn't go to that grad party. Your sorry ass has a lot of work to do.

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