Hullo, Whitworth. It’s a fine day. One of the finest I’ve seen. Why is this day so fine? Sim­ple: This day finds itself in this week. And this is a fine, fine week. And where dost this week find its greatness?

Also simple: because this is the week before the week before graduation. I suspect, there­fore, that as good as this week is, next week will be better.

But while graduation looks about as tan­talizing right now as a lame water buffalo to a starving lion with a compulsive eating dis­order, it isn’t without its letdowns. Namely, I was not chosen as a speaker for our class. I didn’t even make the nominee list. I sus­pect the communists are behind this obvious oversight. But that is neither here nor there.

Because I will not have the opportunity to speak to my fellow seniors at Commence­ment in a couple weeks, I wanted to print the speech I had prepared in this column, but the nit-pickers told me that 5,000 words running more than three pages wasn’t doable. Appar­ently we print news in this paper. Had no idea.

So instead I’ve slaved away over the last two weeks distilling my magnum opus down into a few poignant points, which are printed below. If you are a senior, take notes, or cut this column out and have it inscribed on your contact lenses. If you are not a senior, con­sider yourself lucky to be receiving wisdom of this caliber so far ahead of the curve.

1. You no longer have a mother. Or a fa­ther, for that matter. Biological technicali­ties aside, you are now truly on your own. Or you should be. While people will tell you that there’s no shame in moving back home, you should be aware that there is. Shame, I mean. A lot of it.

2. You may have already learned to cook and clean for yourself, and that’s a good step. But now you no longer have a home – your bedroom is now a quilting room and your im­pressive collection of 500 energy drink cans mysteriously ended up in the recycle bin.

3. You don’t have insurance anymore either. That’s right. You have less than two weeks to schedule a final appointment with your den­tist before you can kiss your oral health good­bye for the next several years. Or until you have your teeth beaten out by your Russian landlord due to your outstanding debt.

4. You will have to provide your own food. Fortunately, every major at Whitworth is de­signed to help with this. Biology majors can live off an exclusive diet of plant thorns and small rocks. Communication types have de­veloped the ability to literally talk people’s ears off – a surprising source of both protein and fiber. Sociologists and political science students have learned to stomach anything. Art and theatre majors are both well prepared for a future of starvation. The only people who are going to have real problems after school are peace studies majors, but that was always going to be the case anyway.

5. Regrettably, most of the good paying jobs start before you get up in the morning.

I originally had 27 points, each as pithy and timeless as the five you have just read. My apologies, but you have no one to blame but yourself for not selecting me as your speaker. So don’t come crying to me when you sud­denly realize how cold the world is. Just hun­ker down and deal with it, senior. You’re a grown-up now.