I will pay anyone here $300 for GORE-TEX gloves. Anybody. I'm serious. I have the cash.

Before I begin, I must point out that behind me sits a highly admired President of the

United States and decorated war hero while I, a cable television talk show host, has

been chosen to stand here and impart wisdom. I pray I never witness a more damning example

of what is wrong with America today.

Graduates, faculty, parents, relatives, undergraduates, and old people that just come to these things:

Good morning and congratulations to the Dartmouth Class of 2011. Today, you have achieved something special,

something only 92 percent of Americans your age will ever know: a college diploma. That’s

right, with your college diploma you now have a crushing advantage over 8 percent of the

workforce. I'm talking about dropout losers like Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, and Mark Zuckerberg.

Incidentally, speaking of Mr. Zuckerberg, only at Harvard would someone have to invent

a massive social network just to talk with someone in the next room.

My first job as your commencement speaker is to illustrate that life is not fair. For

example, you have worked tirelessly for four years to earn the diploma you’ll be receiving

this weekend. That was great.

And Dartmouth is giving me the same degree for interviewing the fourth lead in Twilight.

Deal with it. Another example that life is not fair: if it does rain, the powerful rich

people on stage get the tent. Deal with it. I would like to thank President Kim for inviting

me here today. After my phone call with President Kim, I decided to find out a little bit about

the man. He goes by President Kim and Dr. Kim. To his friends, he's Jim Kim, J to the

K, Special K, JK Rowling, the Just Kidding Kimster, and most puzzling, "Stinky Pete."

He served as the chair of the Department of Global Health and Social Medicine at Harvard

Medical School, spearheaded a task force for the World Health Organization on Global Health

Initiatives, won a MacArthur Genius Grant, and was one of TIME Magazine's 100 Most Influential

People in 2006. Good God, man, what the hell are you compensating for? Seriously. We get

it. You're smart. By the way Dr. Kim, you were brought to Dartmouth to lead, and as

a world-class anthropologist, you were also hired to figure out why each of these graduating

students ran around a bonfire 111 times. But I thank you for inviting me here, Stinky

Pete, and it is an honor. Though some of you may see me as a celebrity, you should know

that I once sat where you sit. Literally. Late last night I snuck out here and sat in

every seat. I did it to prove a point: I am not bright and I have a lot of free time.

But this is a wonderful occasion and it is great to be here in New Hampshire, where I

am getting an honorary degree and all the legal fireworks I can fit in the trunk of

my car. You know, New Hampshire is such a special

place. When I arrived I took a deep breath of this crisp New England air and thought,

"Wow, I'm in the state that's next to the state where Ben and Jerry's ice cream is made."

But don't get me wrong, I take my task today very seriously. When I got the call two months

ago to be your speaker, I decided to prepare with the same intensity many of you have devoted

to an important term paper. So late last night, I began. I drank two cans of Red Bull, snorted some Adderall,

played a few hours of Call of Duty, and then opened my browser. I think Wikipedia put it

best when they said "Dartmouth College is a private Ivy League University in Hanover,

New Hampshire, United States." Thank you and good luck.

To communicate with you students today, I have gone to great lengths to become well-versed

in your unique linguistic patterns. In fact, just this morning I left Baker Berry with

my tripee Barry to eat a Billy Bob at the Bema when my flitz to Francesca was Blitz

jacked by some d-bag on his FSP. Yes, I've done my research. This college was

named after the Second Earl of Dartmouth, a good friend of the Third Earl of UC Santa

Cruz and the Duke of the Barbizon School of Beauty. Your school motto is "Vox clamantis

in deserto," which means "Voice crying out in the wilderness." This is easily the most

pathetic school motto I have ever heard. Apparently, it narrowly beat out "Silently Weeping in

Thick Shrub" and "Whimpering in Moist Leaves without Pants." Your school color is green,

and this color was chosen by Frederick Mather in 1867 because, and this is true—I looked

it up—"it was the only color that had not been taken already." I cannot remember hearing

anything so sad. Dartmouth, you have an inferiority complex, and you should not. You have graduated

more great fictitious Americans than any other college. Meredith Grey of Grey's Anatomy.

Pete Campbell from Mad Men. Michael Corleone from The Godfather. In fact, I look forward

to next years' Valedictory Address by your esteemed classmate, Count Chocula. Of course,

your greatest fictitious graduate is Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner. Man, can you imagine

if a real Treasury Secretary made those kinds of decisions? Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

ha. Now I know what you're going to say, Dartmouth, you're going to say, well "We've got Dr. Seuss."

Well guess what, we're all tired of hearing about Dr. Seuss. Face it: The man rhymed fafloozle

with saznoozle. In the literary community, that's called cheating.

Your insecurity is so great, Dartmouth, that you don't even think you deserve a real podium.

I'm sorry. What the hell is this thing? It looks like you stole it from the set of Survivor:

Nova Scotia. Seriously, it looks like something a bear would use at an AA meeting.

No, Dartmouth, you must stand tall. Raise your heads high and feel proud.

Because if Harvard, Yale, and Princeton are your self-involved, vain, name-dropping older

brothers, you are the cool, sexually confident, lacrosse playing younger sibling who knows

how to throw a party and looks good in a down vest. Brown, of course, is your lesbian sister who

never leaves her room. And Penn, Columbia, and Cornell—well, frankly, who gives a shit.

Yes, I've always had a special bond with this school. In fact, this is my second time coming

here. When I was 17 years old and touring colleges, way back in the fall of 1980, I

came to Dartmouth. Dartmouth was a very different place back then. I made the trip up from Boston

on a mule and, after asking the blacksmith in West Leb for directions, I came to this

beautiful campus. No dormitories had been built yet, so I stayed with a family of fur

traders in White River Junction. It snowed heavily during my visit and I was trapped

here for four months. I was forced to eat the mule, who a week earlier had been forced

to eat the fur traders. Still, I loved Dartmouth and I vowed to return.

But fate dealt a heavy blow. With no money, I was forced to enroll in a small, local commuter

school, a pulsating sore on a muddy elbow of the Charles River. I was a miserable wretch,

and to this day I cannot help but wonder: What if I had gone to Dartmouth?

If I had gone to Dartmouth, I might have spent at least some of my college years outside

and today I might not be allergic to all plant life, as well as most types of rock.

If I had gone to Dartmouth, right now I'd be wearing a fleece thong instead of a lace

thong. If I had gone to Dartmouth, I still wouldn't

know the second verse to "Dear Old Dartmouth." Face it, none of you do. You all mumble that

part. If I had gone to Dartmouth, I'd have a liver

the size and consistency of a bean bag chair. Finally, if I had gone to Dartmouth, today

I'd be getting an honorary degree at Harvard. Imagine how awesome that would be.

You are a great school, and you deserve a historic commencement address. That's right,

I want my message today to be forever remembered because it changed the world. To do this,

I must suggest groundbreaking policy. Winston Churchill gave his famous "Iron Curtain" speech

at Westminster College in 1946. JFK outlined his nuclear disarmament policy at American

University in 1963. Today, I would like to set forth my own policy here at Dartmouth:

I call it "The Conan Doctrine." Under "The Conan Doctrine":

- All bachelor degrees will be upgraded to master's degrees. All master's degrees will

be upgraded to PhDs. And all MBA students will be immediately transferred to a white

collar prison. - Under "The Conan Doctrine," Winter Carnival

will become Winter Carnivale and be moved to Rio. Clothing will be optional, all expenses

paid by the Alumni Association. - Your nickname, the Big Green, will be changed

to something more kick-ass like "The Jade Blade," the "Seafoam Avenger," or simply "Lime-Zilla."

- The D-Plan and "quarter system" will finally be updated to "the one sixty-fourth system."

Semesters will last three days. Students will be encouraged to take 48 semesters off. They

must, however, be on campus during their Sophomore 4th of July.

- Under "The Conan Doctrine," I will re-instate Tubestock. And I will punish those who tried

to replace it with Fieldstock. Rafting and beer are a much better combination than a

field and a beer. I happen to know that in two years, they were going to downgrade Fieldstock

to Deskstock, seven hours of fun sitting quietly at your desk. Don't let those bastards do

it. And finally, under "The Conan Doctrine," all

commencement speakers who shamelessly pander with cheap, inside references designed to

get childish applause, will be forced to apologize—to the greatest graduating class in the history

of the world. Dartmouth class of 2011 rules! Besides policy, another hallmark of great

commencement speeches is deep, profound advice like "reach for the stars." Well today, I

am not going to waste your time with empty clichés. Instead, I am going to give you

real, practical advice that you will need to know if you are going to survive the next

few years. - First, adult acne lasts longer than you

think. I almost cancelled two days ago because I had a zit on my eye.

- Guys, this is important: You cannot iron a shirt while wearing it.

- Here's another one. If you live on Ramen Noodles for too long, you lose all feelings

in your hands and your stool becomes a white gel.

- And finally, wearing colorful Converse high-tops beneath your graduation robe is a great way

to tell your classmates that this is just the first of many horrible decisions you plan

to make with the rest of your life. Of course there are many parents here and

I have real advice for them as well. Parents, you should write this down:

- Many of your children you haven't seen them in four years. Well, now you are about to

see them every day when they come out of the basement to tell you the wi-fi isn't working.

- If your child majored in fine arts or philosophy, you have good reason to be worried. The only

place where they are now really qualified to get a job is ancient Greece. Good luck

with that degree. - The traffic today on East Wheelock is going

to be murder, so once they start handing out diplomas, you should slip out in the middle

of the K's. And, I have to tell you this:

- You will spend more money framing your child's diploma than they will earn in the next six

months. It's tough out there, so be patient. The only people hiring right now are Panera

Bread and Mexican drug cartels. Yes, you parents must be patient because it

is indeed a grim job market out there. And one of the reasons it's so tough finding work

is that aging baby boomers refuse to leave their jobs. Trust me on this. Even when they promise you for five years

that they are going to leave—and say it on television—I mean you can go on YouTube

right now and watch the guy do it, there is no guarantee they won't come back. Of course

I'm speaking generally. But enough. This is not a time for grim prognostications

or negativity. No, I came here today because, believe it or not, I actually do have something

real to tell you. Eleven years ago I gave an address to a graduating

class at Harvard. I have not spoken at a graduation since because I thought I had nothing left

to say. But then 2010 came. And now I'm here, three thousand miles from my home, because

I learned a hard but profound lesson last year and I'd like to share it with you. In

2000, I told graduates "Don't be afraid to fail." Well now I'm here to tell you that,

though you should not fear failure, you should do your very best to avoid it. Nietzsche famously said "Whatever doesn't

kill you makes you stronger." But what he failed to stress is that it almost kills you.

Disappointment stings and, for driven, successful people like yourselves it is disorienting.

What Nietzsche should have said is "Whatever doesn't kill you, makes you watch a lot of

Cartoon Network and drink mid-price Chardonnay at 11 in the morning."

Now, by definition, Commencement speakers at an Ivy League college are considered successful.

But a little over a year ago, I experienced a profound and very public disappointment.

I did not get what I wanted, and I left a system that had nurtured and helped define

me for the better part of 17 years. I went from being in the center of the grid to not

only off the grid, but underneath the coffee table that the grid sits on, lost in the shag