Art Buchwald: 'When I attended USC, there was nothing but buffalo as far as the eye could see,' University of Southern California - 1993

17 May 1993, University of Southern California, Los Angeles, USA

My fellow Trojans, for those of you who can’t see me today, I look exactly like Robert Redford.

Before I begin, I’m just curious about one thing. I would like to see the hands of all the graduates who believe that they are better off today than they were four years ago.

Now a follow-up question. I would like to see the hands of all those who think that Woody Allen is having a mid-life crisis.

As I look down on your smiling faces, I am reminded of a cartoon in the New Yorker magazine.

It shows a boy in cap and gown and his father is saying to him, ‘Congratulations, son, you are now a man. You owe me $370,000.’

Dr. Sample, I can’t tell you how happy I am to receive an honorary degree today. I don’t know if I deserve it, but I want it.

This moment is a highlight for me because my own school has seen fit to recognize me. This university has changed so much since I was here in 1948. When I attended USC, there was nothing but buffalo as far as the eye could see.

I would like to set the record straight about my educational credentials. When I was 16 years old, World War II started, and I was afraid it would be over before I got in. So I ran away from high school to join the Marine Corps. While I was in the Marines, I realized if I ever hoped to get out, I’d better go to college. But I didn’t have a high school diploma. So I went down to USC to find out what I would have to take in night high school to make up the grades. But before I could ask what I needed, they enrolled me, assuming no one would try to register if they didn’t have a high school diploma.

A year later, they called me in and said, ‘You don’t have a high school diploma.’

I said, ‘I know.’

They said, ‘You’re not supposed to be in college.’

I said, ‘I know. What do you want me to do now?’

They said they’d make me a special student.

I said, ‘What does that mean?’

They said, ‘You can’t work for a degree.’

I said, ‘I don’t care about that. If I don’t have a high school diploma, there’s no sense having a college degree.’

So I went for three years and had a ball. Now, 42 years later, they have given me a degree, which confirms what I have been saying all along: All of you graduates today have wasted your
time.

Now although I never participated in any USC athletics, I did make a vital contribution to the athletics program: I took the English tests for the football team.

I thought I was doing a good job until the tackle complained to the coach that I got him a D in Shakespeare, and was hurting his chances of getting into medical school.

I am not here today to bring you a message of doom. I say the class of 1993 is the luckiest one that ever graduated — and probably the last. My message to you today is that we, the older
generation, have given you a perfect world — so don’t screw it up.

You are the generation of Madonna, Nike sneakers and Ross Perot. You can’t find work, and you can’t get health insurance, and NBC puts firecrackers on your pickup trucks.

But I don’t feel sorry for you. As I told Hillary Clinton the other day, ‘We never promised you a Rose Garden.’

The tendency these days is to wring our hands and say everything is rotten, but I don’t feel that way. I am basically an optimist — otherwise I would never drive on the San Diego Freeway.

I know that many of you are angry with our generation because we left you a $4 trillion debt. Well, I would like to remind you of one thing: It was our money and we could do anything we wanted with it.

I don’t know if this is the best of times or the worst of times. But I can assure you of this: It’s the only time you’ve got. So you can either stay in bed or go out and pick a daisy.

We seem to be going through a period of nostalgia, and everyone seems to think that yesterday was better than today. I personally don’t think it was — and if you’re hung up on nostalgia, my advice is to pretend that today is yesterday and go out and have a helluva time.

For starters, there are many things you can do after the ceremony is over today. I would recommend hugging your parents and grandparents as hard as you possibly could. I would ask your favorite professor for his or her autograph. And finally, I would take one last walk around the campus with someone you love. I am not one of these graduation speakers who is going to tell you how to make a better world. I am here to give you practical advice on how to deal with the real jungle out there.

For example, some of you may have chosen to become doctors. If you do, my advise to you is get as much malpractice insurance as you possibly can. Because for every student graduated from USC medical school today, there are two students graduating from the law school waiting to kill you.

Then you’re probably wondering if there will be any jobs waiting for you when you finish your schooling. You have nothing to worry about. I can assure you that out of this class of 7,900 students, 131 of you are going to find jobs. I know who you are, but I’m not at liberty to tell you.

The most important piece of advice I can give you in your job hunting is that every time you make a phone call, there will always be some secretary trying to stonewall you who won’t let you speak to the person you want to.

Secretaries are very protective of their bosses, and theydemand to know what your business is and what you’re calling about.

Now this is how I suggest you handle this, because this is the way I handle it. Whenever a secretary says to me, in a very snooty voice, ‘May I inquire what you’re calling about?’ I say,
‘Tell Mr. Golson, I’m at his house with a truckload of pork bellies that he bought in the commodities market. Does he want me to dump them on his lawn or stuff them in the cellar?’

If that doesn’t work, the second one usually does: ‘Tell Mr. Golson we just got his tests back from the lab.’

And if that one fails, this one never has: ‘Tell Mr. Golson I just found his American Express Card on a bed at the Silk Pussycat Motel. Does he want me to bring it in or mail it to him?’

My final message to you today is that I could have said something profound, but you would have forgotten it in 15 minutes — which is the afterlife of a graduation speech.

Therefore, I chose to give this kind of speech, so that 20 years from today, when your children ask you what you did on graduation day, you can say, ‘I laughed.’

Thank you.

Stephen Colbert: 'Like improv, you cannot win your life', Northwestern University - 2011

17 June, 2011, Northwestern University, Chicago, Illinois, USA

Good morning. Thank you President Schapiro, and my thanks Chairman of the Board of Trustees William Osborn and Provost Dan Linzer-

And thank you, parents! (claps) of course, if you don't thank them now, you'll have plenty of time to thank them tomorrow when you move back in with them. 

And since it's father's day weekend, let's show some special love to all the dads out there. (claps) Do something nice for dad today-  like before you introduce your boyfriend, ask him to remove his tongue ring.

And thank you to the class of 2011. (clap)

You are what some have called "the greatest generation". Not many - but some - so far just me. And I'm counting on you to not make me look like an idiot for saying that. So be great -no pressure.

I am humbled to be standing here with today's other honorary degree recipients.  William Schabas, human rights champion.  Who is here to invistigate Northwestern for cruelly allowing you to graduate into this job market. Doctor Barbara Liskov - the first woman to earn a PHD in computer science - I don't know how she could concentrate surrounded by all those notoriously sexy male programmers – and opera legend Jessye Norman, though that's actually kind of a disappointment- I normally start the speeches by singing Schubert's Ave Maria, but I don’t want to steal anybody's thunder. So I'm not going to do it today.

Now, as you have explained to your grandparents, my name is Stephen Colbert, but I also play a character on TV who is named Stephen Colbert. And I don't always know which of us has been invited someplace. Well, today, I'm fairly confident that I'm me.  Because I went to Northwestern and my character went to Dartmouth. So he was there for graduation last weekend and heard Conan. It was a great speech. But he was hoping for Leno.

I am honored to be your commencement speaker on this, the 25th anniversary of my graduating class.  Any fellow class of 86ers here today? Remember, later we're all gonna get together, put on some leg warmers, crank up our Sony Walkmen, and Wang Chung to Mr. Mister until the flock of seagulls come home.

But as honored as I am to be here, I am also a bit surprised to be your graduation speaker, considering that 25 years ago today, I did not actually graduate. I thought I was graduating-- my family was here, I was wearing this ridiculous medieval garb. But when I went up to get my diploma, and the dean, Cathy Martin, handed me the folder, she leaned in and said, "I’msorry." Now, I didn't know what this meant, but it didn't sound good. I was hoping it was was some new form of Latin honorific-- like summa cum laude-  "I'm sorry"-cum-laude.  But when I got back to my seat and opened the handsome pleather folder, instead of containing an embossed diploma, there was instead a piece of paper torn from a legal pad that said, "see me, Dean Cathy Martin."  Evidently I had an incomplete of which I was not aware. So, in my graduation photos with my family, I am sheepishly holding a scrap of yellow paper. The first member of my family to earn a scrap of yellow paper- the rest of them got diplomas. So, remember - just by graduating on your graduation day, you are starting your career way ahead of me. Be proud.

Because Northwestern is a school to be proud of.   In academics, athletics, science, and public service, it represents humanity at its best, and on Dillo Day, it represents humanity at its worst. For parents, Dillo day is a festival that started in 1972 to honor the armadillo...that is the best explanation I can offer. Today armadillos are honored by drinking 4loko out of a super soaker while dancing to the New Pornographers in a drunken mosh pit filled mostly with national merit finalists.

Northwestern's alumni list is truly impressive. This university has graduated bestselling authors, Olympians, Presidential candidates, Grammy winners, Peabody winners, Emmy winners, and that's just me!

I loved my time here - I was a transfer student from a small, all male college in Virginia, where I had been a philosophy major, but I decided to switch to something with stronger job prospects —  theatre major.

Which reminds me I forgot to warm up. [recites "admist the mists and coldest frosts with barest wrists and stoutest boasts he thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghosts."]

I not only loved studying theatre, I loved being a theatre major. It gave me an excuse to brood, to grow a beard, to wear black "at" people. I didn't just want to play Hamlet, I wanted to be hamlet.

Northwestern's academic resources are unparalleled. The library contains 5 million books,  and 100,000 periodicals, none of which anyone reads because they're not on an iPad. Next year, I believe Deering library is being coverted into a chipotle.

Here's an interesting fact - a recent poll among private universities found that students at Northwestern have the lowest desire to have sex. I think that is possibly because this year, Northwestern offered some truly advanced instruction in human sexuality. I saw some photos of the lab equipment, and I'm thinking it may have scared you people off of sex forever.  It might actually have been a stealth abstinence program, or viral ad for true value hardware.  Graduates, good luck explaining what I'm talking about to your grandmother at brunch.

Still, that low sex drive is surprising, given that Evanston is riddled with brothels — oh yeah, they are out there — but thankfully this town is finally enforcing a century old city ordinance that prohibits more than three unrelated individuals from living together, lest they reach critical mass, and spontaneously prostitute themselves. I'm all for this law.  Can't be too careful. In this economy, running a brothel may be the most reliable work out there. And before everybody jumps on me, I am not saying that everybody at Northwestern will become prostitutes. Obviously the Kellogg graduates will become pimps. Expecting big things from you folks.

So you have a great town, a great school, a great life here. Maybe too great. Because I see evidence that since I left, Northwestern has gone soft. And don't go, ‘oh what's he talking about?’ you know exactly what I'm talking about.  I'm talking about: the snow day. You were hoping I hadn’t heard about that. On Wednesday, February 2nd,  2011, Northwestern was closed because of snow. 'Oh no!  What's that white stuff coming from the sky...in Chicago...in February!’ I'm sorry, that is weak.  Let me ask the alumni here: you ever have classes called because it was a little brisk outside? No! Cuz we were wildcats when wildcats were wildcats! For Pete's sake it's called Northwestern because when it was founded this was the Northwest Territories! Its first graduating class was offered double major in fur trapping and frost bite. And my first winter here, true story, I endured what is still the coldest day in Chicago history - January 20th, 1985.   Negative 27 degrees, negative 83 with the windchill, you weren't careful, your genitals could snap off like a Graham cracker. Did NU close? No! We went to class! Well, not me, I was a theatre major, and didn’t go to class that often. But I was supposed to! Have I mentioned that I finished college with an incomplete? 

And we didn't have cell phones.  If you made plans to meet someone in a snow storm, and they didn't show up, you just had to assume they were devoured by wolves and go on with your life.

And we couldn't text. And we certainly couldn't ‘sext’ each other. If you wanted to send someone a picture of your private parts, you had to fax it. That's how Kinkos got its name. You had to fill out a cover letter — it was embarrasing.

But the clearest example of how this once great institution has failed you students? In 1986, our commencement speaker was George Schultz, Secretary of State, fourth in line to the president. You get me — basic cable's second most popular fake newsman. At this rate the class of 2021 will be addressed by a zoo parrot in a mortar board that has been trained to say ‘congratulations.’

**********

But I'm not here to talk about me - I am here to inspire you by talking about me.

Fair warning: we are now entering the meaningful part of the speech: those of you who already have enough meaning in their lives can go do something else —maybe try to remember where you parked the rental car.

This spring, I participated in a sailing race from South Carolina half way across the Atlantic to Bermuda.  In many ways it was a beautiful journey, stars wheeling over head, whales breaching to starboard, which I think is over here. And in many other ways it was horrible. We were filthy and tired — for seven days none of us slept for more than three hours at a time. Which is how Stalin broke his enemies. And how infants break their parents.

We eventually made it to Bermuda,  and after a few days there, I came back home by plane. And looking out the window,  it felt completely artificial to fly over that same thousand miles of water that we just fought our way across inch by inch. The ease of coming back somehow made it that much harder to explain to friends what was it was like out there — what was lost and what was gained on that sublime and terrible trip. And in some ways, it feels just as artificial to fly back to this place after 25 years to try to tell you how to navigate the waters ahead.

Though it's tempting to think that I can.

Because like many people my age, I have fantasized about travelling back in time and giving advice to my younger self.  To stop young Stephen on a street corner, and say, ‘Break up with her, you idiot. Haven't you noticed that she's nicer to the dog?!’  or, "Buy real estate,’ or, ‘for god's sake, don't buy real estate!’

Or ‘under no circumstances should you wear white jeans. Even on a cruise. Also, don't go on a cruise.’

Or ‘wear sunscreen — having a tan looks nice now, but in twenty years, your face will look like a catcher's mitt.’

But I doubt my younger self would even listen to me. I'm sure he'd say ‘there's no way you could be me.  I have a chin.’ Plus, young me would never respect old me.  He's in the theatre.  I work in ‘TV’.  I'm a total sell-out.

So to recap: I'm going to try to give you, who for all intents and purposes are me 25 years ago, some advice that I probably won't get right, and you probably won't listen to. Ready?

Let's do this thing!

Ok: you have been told to follow your dreams.  But — what if it's a stupid dream? For instance Stephen Colbert of 25 years ago lived at 2015 North Ridge — with two men and three women — in what i now know was a brothel.  He dreamed of living alone. Well, alone with his beard — in a large,  barren loft apartment — lots of blond wood —wearing a kimono, with a futon on the floor, and a samovar of tea constantly bubbling in the background, doing Shakespeare in the street for the homeless. Today, I am a beardless, suburban dad who lives in a house, wears no-iron khakis, and makes Anthony Wiener jokes for a living. And I love it. Because thankfully dreams can change.  If we'd all stuck with our first dream, the world would be overrun with cowboys and princesses. 

So whatever your dream is right now, if you don't achieve it, you haven't failed, and you're not some loser. But just as importantly — and this is the part I may not get right and you may not listen to — if you do get your dream, you are not a winner.

After I graduated from here, I moved down to Chicago and did improv. Now there are very few rules to improvisation, but one of the things I was taught early on is that you are not the most important person in the scene. Everybody else is. And if they are the most important people in the scene, you will naturally pay attention to them and serve them. But the good news is you're in the scene too. So hopefully to them you're the most important person, and they will serve you. No one is leading, you're all following the follower, serving the servant. You cannot win improv.

And life is an improvisation. You have no idea what's going to happen next and you are mostly just making things up as you go along.

And like improv, you cannot win your life.

Even when it might look like you're winning.  I have my own show, which I love doing. Full of very talented people ready to serve me. And it's great. But at my best, I am serving them just as hard, and together, we serve a common idea, in this case the character Stephen Colbert, who it's clear, isn't interested in serving anyone. And a sure sign that things are going well is when no one can really remember whose idea was whose, or who should get credit for what jokes.

Though naturally I take credit for all of them. 

But if we should serve others, and together serve some common goal or idea — for any one you, what is that idea? And who are those people?

In my experience, you will truly serve only what you love, because, as the prophet says, service is love made visible.

If you love friends, you will serve your friends.

If you love community, you will serve your community.

If you love money, you will serve your money.

And if you love only yourself, you will serve only yourself. And you will have only yourself.

So no more winning. Instead, try to love others and serve others, and hopefully find those who love and serve you in return.

In closing, I'd like to apologize for being predictable. The New York Times has analyzed the hundreds of commencement speeches given so far in 2011, and found that ‘love,’ and ‘service’ were two of the most used words.

I can only hope that because of my speech today, the word ‘brothel’ comes in a close third.

Thank you for the honor of addressing you, and congratulations to the class of 2011.

Lance Jabr & Jeffrey Herman: 'Suck it Yale: A Musical Journey Through the High School - Experience' - 2008

June 2008, Mountain View High School, Los Altos region, California, USA

Faculty and distinguished guests

You know, the only thing better than completing high school, is the chance to convey the entire experience, to a captive audience, through a lengthy speech comprised of highly personal anecdotes.

A chance which I now plan to take full advantage of.

Now I realise that some of you may be less than excited for what is about to pass, so in an attempt to fix this problem, I’ve invited my friend Jeff up here to accompany me, with some mood setting music, that I hope will enhance the speech greatly.

[music wafts in]

Relaxing isn’t it?

Now the speech is designed to exactly what YOU want to hear.

And if you just relax, and let this experience move you, you’ll find that as soon as you’re not interested in what I’m saying, your subconscious will automatically fade my voice, gently out of your senses.

Time will fly by for you, and you may even slip in and out of consciousness, as you are left to relax with the soothing sounds of the keyboard.

So now, if everyone’s ready ... I would like to begin our mystical journey through the high school experience.

[jaunty music change]

Our adventure begins with freshman year, easily our best year of high school although you may not appreciate it, [speaks deliberately inaudibly with large gesticulations, music carries on]  ... that finding a date to homecoming is easy, if you sweat as much as I do, let me tell you ... [lapses into inaudible monologue again] ... that’s when I realised that everyone else’s bodies were changing too and I didn’t have to be embarrassed about what was happening to me. [lapses back into inaudible] ... by that time it was already four in the morning, and it would have taken me another three hours to have got all the maple syrup off a the walls [lapses into silent gesticulating] ... and that brings us to senior year.

Now don’t worry, your senior year of high school will be much simpler than the previous three, because, you’ve pretty much been checked out most of the time, but there is one little thing you should get out of the way, before you start caring, and I think I can best describe how that feels, with this metaphorical story.

Let’s say you’re a single guy, and you decide it’s time to start thinking about getting married. But you’re still young, you don’t want to rush into anything, so you spend years searching for the perfect girl. Every chance you get, you travel all over the country just to meet new people. Some you like more than others, some are too nerdy, some party too much, but finally, after all your searching, you think you’ve found the perfect one.

[dramatic music]

Oh she’s incredible, she’s fun, she’s smart, she’s sexy, everything you wanted in a woman.

You decide to propose.

But - you only get one shot, and you can’t screw it up, so you spend months agionising over how you’re going to do it. What you’re going to say to her. You set a deadline for yourself, so you cna’t put it off forever.

[Music faster]

And as the deadline approaches you begin to get more nervous, are you good enough, yes you perform well and get good marks, but is that all she wants? Does she need a man who can lead, or maybe you should have volunteered to coordinate that project last week. Does she want a man who can show compassion, or maybe you should have done more community service?

And maybe when that old woman asked you to help her across the street, you should have tricked her and laughed, it feels like everything you’ve been doing in your entire life has been leading up to this moment.

Finally the deadline is here

[Big dramatic piano]

Oh you’re so nervous. You’re sweating all over her. It’s like there’s ivy around your neck. She’s way out of your league. Is the ring big enough? Is it too late to go back? How many mistakes have you made so far? Can a public institution funded by a state government that’s millions of dollars in debt really provide the same level of education as an overpriced private school?

And then it’s over. You’ve submitted your proposal and there’s nothing more you can do.

And she looks at you ... and she says ...

[piano staccato]

Mmmmmm let me get back to you in like four months.

[jaunty music]

That’s pretty much what applying to college is like. You know what sucks the most about it? She’ll probably say no. But guess what you didn’t tell her. You proposed to like, hella backup chicks just in case she rejected you, and they’re all begging you to come and marry them instead.

So suck it Yale, I could never have married a smoker anyway.

Alright, now that we’ve completed high school, it’s time to start thinking about the future.

You know, a lot of people tell me that in like, twenty years, I’m going to go to a high school reunion, and I’m going to laugh at how stupid I was as a teenager.

I’d say, that sounds like a pretty good plan, because as teenagers, we’ve had to put up with a lot of ridiculous stuff to get to where we are today.

And as adults, we’re going to have to put up with a lot more ridiculous stuff to where we will be in twenty years.

And that’s been true for every generation. And I think the most important thing we can learn from that is, things just don’t always make sense. Life for example, if a couple of random guys give this really weird speech at your high school graduation, that you didn’t get at all, maybe it was just a dumb speech that wasn’t meant to be taken seriously 

Or maybe, maybe they were trying to say that life is ridiculous, and that being able to make a fool of yourself in front of a lot of people and then laugh about it, is a great skill that’s vital for success in all fields of life.

But they were probably just being dumb. Anyway, it’s not important because I doubt that’s happened to anyone here.

Although ... if it did happen to you, make you sure you never forget the guys who gave that speech, because I bet they were awesome. And, attractive, though you may never have noticed it for the entire duration of high school.

Just a thought.

[music restarts]

Alright, I guess that pretty much sums up everything I have to say.

The only thing left is, congratulations to the Mountain View High School class of 2008, and to everyone who helped us get here.

I look forward to laughing with you all about this, in twenty years.

Thank you.

Tim Minchin: 'It’s an incredibly exciting thing, this one, meaningless life of yours', UWA - 2013

17 September, 2013, University of Western Australia, Australia

In darker days, I did a corporate gig at a conference for this big company who made and sold accounting software. In a bid, I presume, to inspire their salespeople to greater heights, they’d forked out 12 grand for an Inspirational Speaker who was this extreme sports dude who had had a couple of his limbs frozen off when he got stuck on a ledge on some mountain. It was weird. Software salespeople need to hear from someone who has had a long, successful and happy career in software sales, not from an overly-optimistic, ex-mountaineer. Some poor guy who arrived in the morning hoping to learn about better sales technique ended up going home worried about the blood flow to his extremities. It’s not inspirational – it’s confusing.

And if the mountain was meant to be a symbol of life’s challenges, and the loss of limbs a metaphor for sacrifice, the software guy’s not going to get it, is he? Cos he didn’t do an arts degree, did he? He should have. Arts degrees are awesome. And they help you find meaning where there is none. And let me assure you, there is none. Don’t go looking for it. Searching for meaning is like searching for a rhyme scheme in a cookbook: you won’t find it and you’ll bugger up your soufflé.

Point being, I’m not an inspirational speaker. I’ve never lost a limb on a mountainside, metaphorically or otherwise. And I’m certainly not here to give career advice, cos… well I’ve never really had what most would call a proper job.

However, I have had large groups of people listening to what I say for quite a few years now, and it’s given me an inflated sense of self-importance. So I will now – at the ripe old age of 38 – bestow upon you nine life lessons. To echo, of course, the 9 lessons and carols of the traditional Christmas service. Which are also a bit obscure.

You might find some of this stuff inspiring, you will find some of it boring, and you will definitely forget all of it within a week. And be warned, there will be lots of hokey similes, and obscure aphorisms which start well but end up not making sense.

So listen up, or you’ll get lost, like a blind man clapping in a pharmacy trying to echo-locate the contact lens fluid.

Here we go:

1. You Don’t Have To Have A Dream.
Americans on talent shows always talk about their dreams. Fine, if you have something that you’ve always dreamed of, like, in your heart, go for it! After all, it’s something to do with your time… chasing a dream. And if it’s a big enough one, it’ll take you most of your life to achieve, so by the time you get to it and are staring into the abyss of the meaninglessness of your achievement, you’ll be almost dead so it won’t matter.

I never really had one of these big dreams. And so I advocate passionate dedication to the pursuit of short-term goals. Be micro-ambitious. Put your head down and work with pride on whatever is in front of you… you never know where you might end up. Just be aware that the next worthy pursuit will probably appear in your periphery. Which is why you should be careful of long-term dreams. If you focus too far in front of you, you won’t see the shiny thing out the corner of your eye. Right? Good. Advice. Metaphor. Look at me go.

2. Don’t Seek Happiness
Happiness is like an orgasm: if you think about it too much, it goes away. Keep busy and aim to make someone else happy, and you might find you get some as a side effect. We didn’t evolve to be constantly content. Contented Australophithecus Afarensis got eaten before passing on their genes.

3. Remember, It’s All Luck
You are lucky to be here. You were incalculably lucky to be born, and incredibly lucky to be brought up by a nice family that helped you get educated and encouraged you to go to Uni. Or if you were born into a horrible family, that’s unlucky and you have my sympathy… but you were still lucky: lucky that you happened to be made of the sort of DNA that made the sort of brain which – when placed in a horrible childhood environment – would make decisions that meant you ended up, eventually, graduating Uni. Well done you, for dragging yourself up by the shoelaces, but you were lucky. You didn’t create the bit of you that dragged you up. They’re not even your shoelaces.

I suppose I worked hard to achieve whatever dubious achievements I’ve achieved … but I didn’t make the bit of me that works hard, any more than I made the bit of me that ate too many burgers instead of going to lectures while I was here at UWA.

Understanding that you can’t truly take credit for your successes, nor truly blame others for their failures will humble you and make you more compassionate.

Empathy is intuitive, but is also something you can work on, intellectually.

4. Exercise
I’m sorry, you pasty, pale, smoking philosophy grads, arching your eyebrows into a Cartesian curve as you watch the Human Movement mob winding their way through the miniature traffic cones of their existence: you are wrong and they are right. Well, you’re half right – you think, therefore you are… but also: you jog, therefore you sleep well, therefore you’re not overwhelmed by existential angst. You can’t be Kant, and you don’t want to be.

Play a sport, do yoga, pump iron, run… whatever… but take care of your body. You’re going to need it. Most of you mob are going to live to nearly a hundred, and even the poorest of you will achieve a level of wealth that most humans throughout history could not have dreamed of. And this long, luxurious life ahead of you is going to make you depressed!

But don’t despair! There is an inverse correlation between depression and exercise. Do it. Run, my beautiful intellectuals, run. And don’t smoke. Natch.

5. Be Hard On Your Opinions
A famous bon mot asserts that opinions are like arse-holes, in that everyone has one. There is great wisdom in this… but I would add that opinions differ significantly from arse-holes, in that yours should be constantly and thoroughly examined.

We must think critically, and not just about the ideas of others. Be hard on your beliefs. Take them out onto the verandah and beat them with a cricket bat.
Be intellectually rigorous. Identify your biases, your prejudices, your privilege.

Most of society’s arguments are kept alive by a failure to acknowledge nuance. We tend to generate false dichotomies, then try to argue one point using two entirely different sets of assumptions, like two tennis players trying to win a match by hitting beautifully executed shots from either end of separate tennis courts.

By the way, while I have science and arts grads in front of me: please don’t make the mistake of thinking the arts and sciences are at odds with one another. That is a recent, stupid, and damaging idea. You don’t have to be unscientific to make beautiful art, to write beautiful things.

If you need proof: Twain, Adams, Vonnegut, McEwen, Sagan, Shakespeare, Dickens. For a start.

You don’t need to be superstitious to be a poet. You don’t need to hate GM technology to care about the beauty of the planet. You don’t have to claim a soul to promote compassion.

Science is not a body of knowledge nor a system of belief; it is just a term which describes humankind’s incremental acquisition of understanding through observation. Science is awesome.

The arts and sciences need to work together to improve how knowledge is communicated. The idea that many Australians – including our new PM and my distant cousin Nick – believe that the science of anthropogenic global warming is controversial, is a powerful indicator of the extent of our failure to communicate. The fact that 30% of this room just bristled is further evidence still. The fact that that bristling is more to do with politics than science is even more despairing.

6. Be a teacher.
Please? Please be a teacher. Teachers are the most admirable and important people in the world. You don’t have to do it forever, but if you’re in doubt about what to do, be an amazing teacher. Just for your twenties. Be a primary school teacher. Especially if you’re a bloke – we need male primary school teachers. Even if you’re not a Teacher, be a teacher. Share your ideas. Don’t take for granted your education. Rejoice in what you learn, and spray it.

7. Define Yourself By What You Love
I’ve found myself doing this thing a bit recently, where, if someone asks me what sort of music I like, I say “well I don’t listen to the radio because pop lyrics annoy me”. Or if someone asks me what food I like, I say “I think truffle oil is overused and slightly obnoxious”. And I see it all the time online, people whose idea of being part of a subculture is to hate Coldplay or football or feminists or the Liberal Party. We have tendency to define ourselves in opposition to stuff; as a comedian, I make a living out of it. But try to also express your passion for things you love. Be demonstrative and generous in your praise of those you admire. Send thank-you cards and give standing ovations. Be pro-stuff, not just anti-stuff.

8. Respect People With Less Power Than You.
I have, in the past, made important decisions about people I work with – agents and producers – based largely on how they treat wait staff in restaurants. I don’t care if you’re the most powerful cat in the room, I will judge you on how you treat the least powerful. So there.

9. Don’t Rush.
You don’t need to already know what you’re going to do with the rest of your life. I’m not saying sit around smoking cones all day, but also, don’t panic. Most people I know who were sure of their career path at 20 are having midlife crises now.

I said at the beginning of this ramble that life is meaningless. It was not a flippant assertion. I think it’s absurd: the idea of seeking “meaning” in the set of circumstances that happens to exist after 13.8 billion years worth of unguided events. Leave it to humans to think the universe has a purpose for them. However, I am no nihilist. I am not even a cynic. I am, actually, rather romantic. And here’s my idea of romance:

You will soon be dead. Life will sometimes seem long and tough and, god, it’s tiring. And you will sometimes be happy and sometimes sad. And then you’ll be
old. And then you’ll be dead.

There is only one sensible thing to do with this empty existence, and that is: fill it. Not fillet. Fill. It.

And in my opinion (until I change it), life is best filled by learning as much as you can about as much as you can, taking pride in whatever you’re doing, having compassion, sharing ideas, running(!), being enthusiastic. And then there’s love, and travel, and wine, and sex, and art, and kids, and giving, and mountain climbing … but you know all that stuff already.

It’s an incredibly exciting thing, this one, meaningless life of yours. Good luck.

Thank you for indulging me.

Tim Minchin's acclaimed musical, Matilda, is crurrently touring Australia. You can purchase tickets here.