Class of 2024, I want to congratulate you all.
I want to congratulate the men in this room for having undealt-with childhood trama, deep-seated misogyny, and humongous issues about your teeny, tiny penis. As a guy who has spent time in an NFL locker room, insecurity about your underdeveloped ham stick will haunt you, but trust me as I say this – your white male privilege will overcome.
And I want to congratulate the women in this very small, no-name private school auditorium, for being the next generation of ladies to have our kids and fake orgasms for us, the men with very emotional issues about the size of our microscopic genitalia.
Real men – and I mean real men – should be out doing manly things. Extremely manly things. Like hunting wild buffalo with their bare hands, or shooting AR-15s at unarmed civilians, or doing the most manliest thing of all: kicking a little ball a few yards. If you’ve ever played football you’d know being a kicker is by far the hardest, bravest, and toughest position. Remember, this ball is the same color as the buffalo, so it’s essentially kicking a full-sized male buffalo through the uprights.
And to the ladies in the audience: How come all of you thought it would be better for society for you to learn a bunch of stuff that for sure went over your head rather than getting pregnant from your high-school boyfriend and reading a Julia Child cookbook and also telling us how large and pleasing our little baby-boy wiggly worms are?
Times-a-tickin, ladies. And you know where the clock is? Right above the stove.
And for the LGBTQIA+ community here, on this sacred Christian masculine day – you know that’s not even how the alphabet works, right? I graduated from this hallowed institution through being good at alphabet, not being queer, and doing good at kicking the itty-bitty oval with the toughest foot you’ve ever seen.
I was a warrior of the gridiron. A soldier. A hero. The most athletic person you could imagine, whose on the field an average of 17 seconds a game.
Do I run away in terror from small dogs? Sure. But does my wife cook a good stew with a bruise on her cheek? Damn skippy. Because I know how to put a woman in her place. My Dan Bilzerian beard should have already proven that.
So to all you young graduates, please know this. I hope you’re inspired by my willingness to throw away an NFL career before your very eyes. And also by my willingness to admit how extremely and profoundly insecure I am about my microdick.
