Thursday, June 19, 2008

Providing earth shattering advice to graduates

Hump Day
Moncton Times & Transcript
Wednesday, June 28, 2008
Pg. D4

It's graduation season, kids, and with 26 years of wisdom (feel free to interpret that as "stupidity") behind me since my own high school graduation on June 20, 1982, I feel the need and obligation to bestow my well-earned brilliance upon the young men and women of the class of 2008.

Since no high schools, colleges or universities have agreed to my multimillion-dollar speaking fee, I was left with two choices: write a column with my advice to graduates, or peddle my wares to other institutions of higher learning, including beauty schools, dog grooming classes and kindergartens.

Fortunately for you, my dear readers, there is not a big demand (or even a little demand) for commencement speakers at places like Miss Munro's School of Trampy Makeup, George's School for Impossibly Matted Sheepdogs, or the St. John the Nosepicker College for Gifted Tots, so I've decided to bestow the knowledge I've gathered over the ages unto you directly.

Don't forget to clip this column, frame it and screw it into your ceiling so it's the first thing you see when you wake up in the morning. Better yet, sprinkle it with a bit of salt and pepper and eat it! That way, it becomes part of you, its words flowing through your bloodstream like a salmon swimming up a majestic river.

Throughout your life, you will read this column when things get bad. You will stuff it into the pockets of dead relatives just before the casket lid is slammed shut and locked, nailed, glued and caulked. And don't forget the duct tape, either. The insight embedded in this column is so powerful that you will feel the need to send them off into eternity with this brilliant piece of literature tucked away in their final resting place, the energy being emitted from its words so holy that you will likely see a ray of light from heaven itself burst forth from the sky and shine upon said casket.

We can't forget the illnesses that the words in this column will heal. In fact, simply laying this column on a patient's body will cure everything wrong with them. If they could not see, they would see again. If they could not walk, they would walk again. If they could not hear, they would hear again. If they could not for the life of them figure out how to do a Sudoku puzzle, they would figure out how to do a Sudoku puzzle.

Have I mentioned that this column also turns water into wine? Yes, folks, no need for expensive trips to the liquor store or the time-consuming and confusing task of making your own booze. Cut out this column, dip it into a bucket of water. . . and voilà: a bucket of the finest wine known to man... and woman. Château Le Brian 2008.

Now, before I move on to my secret life advice that, dear graduates, will pretty much allow you to avoid every pitfall known to mankind -- include hangnails and choosing an ugly spouse -- I would be remiss not to tell you about a few of the other benefits that this sageness is guaranteed to provide you.

Reading this column will make you more intelligent. It will automatically make you smarter than the average bear. (That's a Yogi Bear reference that you likely won't get because you're under 40, but trust me kids, it's absolutely knee-slappingly hilarious.) Trust your Uncle Brian here, you will be automatically accepted as a member of Mensa just by reading this column. Your brain will literally protrude out of your ears.

You don't have to be a graduating student to benefit from the miracle explained here in these words. If you're a man of a certain age who's having challenges "down there," if you get my drift, reading just one paragraph out loud will give you back a virility so strong that merely walking by a pretty girl on the street will cause her to lust after you more strongly than Elizabeth Taylor loved Richard Burton; stronger than Cleopatra loved Mark Antony; stronger than Cher loved Sonny; and stronger than the elves at the North Pole love Santa Claus. Wait, maybe that last one's not the best example -- not that there's anything wrong with that.

And ladies, this column can help you, too. It will help you make even more delicious sandwiches for your husband. It will bring your ironing to levels never before reached. Your husband's shirts will be even crisper. Your sheets will be even more wrinkle-free. And your creases will be... uhm... even creasier. (And the sexist pig who's writing this will have tax auditors show up on his doorstep by the end of the day.)

Are you a golfer? Read this column's sage counsel and be prepared to have Tiger Woods collapsed at your feet and crying like a little girl when you beat him hands-down at the next U.S. Open. In fact, you'll beat him so badly that he'll be grovelling at your feet just for the honour of caddying for you.

Trying to lose weight? Within mere seconds of finishing this column, stand in front of a mirror to see the fat literally melt off you as your skin tightens to that of a 20-year-old marathon athlete, your cheese-grater abs miraculously pop out, and you grow back a full head of hair that would make Rapunzel green with envy.

And so, the time has finally come, my friends. Time for the advice. Time for the secret. Time for the little nugget of brilliance that will change your life forever and ever!

O.K., so here's my earth-shattering revelation: Don't waste your time reading columns from smart-aleck columnists who couldn't think of anything else to write about this week. There endeth the lesson. Go in peace.

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