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Angelina Jolie | What We Stand For |

We remember all those who died, to acknowledgeeach valuable life cut short, and the families who share,We are here in memory of Sergio Vieira deMello and the 21 other men and women, most of them UN workers, who died with him in thebombing of the UN Headquarters in Baghdad in August 2003.
 even today, in their sacrifice.



We also remember them for the power of theexample they set: brave individuals from 11 different countries, working to help Iraqipeople, at the direction of the United Nations Security Council, and on behalf of us all.

This is something forgotten: that in servingunder the UN flag they died in our names, as our representatives.




At their head was Sergio Vieira de Mello,a man of extraordinary grace and ability, as so many who knew him testify. A man who gave 30 years to the United Nations,rising from a field officer to High Commissioner for Human Rights and Special Representativeto Iraq.



From Bangladesh and Bosnia to South Sudanto East Timor, he spent the majority of his career in the field, working alongside peopleforced from their homes by war, and assisting them with his skill as a diplomat and negotiator. Perhaps the greatest testament to his contribution,is how much his advice would be valued today.



 As the Syrian conflict enters its seventhyear, as we live through the gravest refugee crisis since the founding of the United Nations,as 20 million people are on the brink of death from starvation in Yemen, Somalia, South Sudanand northeast Nigeria, I cannot imagine that there is anyone in the leadership of the UnitedNations who would not welcome the opportunity to consult Sergio, or send him into the fieldonce more.



He is truly missed, even today. It is humbling for me to speak tonight inthe presence of members of Sergio’s family and his former colleagues.

I never knew Sergio, but I have stood beforethe plaque in the place where he died. I felt profound sadness at the fact that theconflict in Iraq – the source of so much Iraqi suffering to this day - had claimedthe lives of men and women whose only intention was to try and improve a desperate situation. But I also saw clearly the value and nobilityof a life spent in service of others.


Sergio was a man who never turned down anassignment, no matter how difficult and dangerous - or as others have put it, was “handedone impossible task after another”. He was a man, to borrow the words of ThomasPaine, whose country was the world, and whose religion was to do good. He will always remain a hero and inspirationto all who follow in his footsteps.



  1. The UN’s work did not end there, in therubble of the Canal Hotel, 14 years ago. Hundreds of UN staff have served, and continueto, serve in Iraq, as they do from Afghanistan to Somalia, because the task of building peaceand security can never be abandoned, no matter how bleak the situation.



  • My Thoughts on Sergio’s life and legacyderive from my 16 years with UNHCR, the Agency he spent so much of his career serving andrepresenting.


But I also speak as a citizen of my country– the United States. I believe all of us who work with the UN preservethis duality. The United Nations is not a country, it isa place where we come together as nations and people to try to resolve our differencesand unite in common action.

As a citizen I find myself looking out ona global environment that seems more troubling and uncertain than at any time in my lifetime. I imagine many of you may feel the same. We are grappling with a level of conflictand insecurity that seems to exceed our will and capabilities: with more refugees thanever before, and new wars erupting on top of existing conflicts, some already lastingdecades.

We see a rising tide of nationalism, masqueradingas patriotism, and the re-emergence of policies encouraging fear and hatred of others. We see some politicians elected partly onthe basis of dismissing international institutions and agreements, as if our countries have notbenefited from cooperation, but actually been harmed by it.


We hear some leaders talking as if some ofour proudest achievements are in fact our biggest liabilities – whether it is thetradition of successfully integrating refugees into our societies, or the institutions andtreaties we have built rooted in laws and human rights.


We see nations that played a proud role inthe founding of the International Criminal Court withdrawing from it, on the one hand,and on the other, we see arrest warrants for alleged war crimes issued but not implemented,and other crimes ignored altogether.

We are see a country like South Sudan usheredby the international community into independence, then largely abandoned – not by the UN agenciesand NGOs – but effectively abandoned, without the massive support they needed to make asuccess of sovereignty. And we see resolutions and laws on the protectionof civilians and the use of chemical weapons, for instance, flouted repeatedly, in somecases under the cover of Security Council vetoes, as in Syria.


Many of these things are not new – but takentogether – and in the absence of strong international leadership, they are deeplyworrying. When we consider all this and more, as citizens,what is our answer? Do we, as some would encourage us to think,turn our backs on the world, and hope we can wait for storms to pass? Or do we strengthen our commitment to diplomacyand to the United Nations?


I strongly believe there is only one choice,demanded by reason as well as by conscience, which is the hard work of diplomacy and negotiationand reform of the UN.

This is not to say that that is any way an easy road. And there are reasons people feel insecure today. The level of conflict and lack of solutions combined with the fear of terrorism; the reality that globalisation has bought vast benefits to some but worsened the lot of others; the sense of a disconnect between citizens and governments, or in some countries the lack of governance; the overall feeling that for all our gains in technology and connectedness, we are less in control of forces shaping our lives – all these factors and more have contributed to a sense of a world out of balance,and there are no easy answers.


And the millions of people who havelifted themselves out of poverty in our lifetimes, the difference between the lives of thoseof us born in wealthy, democratic societies and those born into the slums and refugeecamps of the world is a profound injustice.

We see it and we know it to be wrong, at a simple human level. That inequality is contributing to instability,conflict and migration as well as to the sense that the international system serves the few at the expense of the many.


  • But again, what is our answer, as citizens?


 Do we withdraw from the world where beforewe felt a responsibility to be part of solutions? I am a proud American and I am an internationalist.

 I believe anyone committed to human rightsis an internationalist. It means seeing the world with a sense offairness and humility, and recognizing our own humanity in the struggles of others.

 It stems from love of one’s country, butnot at the expense of others - from patriotism, but not from narrow nationalism. It includes the view that success isn’tbeing better or greater than others, but finding your place in a world where others succeedtoo. And that a strong nation, like a strong person,helps others to rise up and be independent.

It is the spirit that made possible the creationof the UN, out of the rubble and ruin and 60 million dead of World War Two; so thateven before the task of defeating Nazism was complete, that generation of wartime leaderswas forging the United Nations.


 If governments and leaders are not keepingthat flame of internationalism alive today, then we as citizens must. The challenge is how to restore that senseof balance and hopefulness in our countries, while not sacrificing all we have learnt aboutthe value and necessity of internationalism.

Because a world in which we turn our backon our global responsibilities will be a world that produces greater insecurity, violenceand danger for us and for our children. This is not a clash between idealism and realism.

It is the recognition that there is no shortcutto peace and security, and no substitute for the long, painstaking effort to end conflicts,expand human rights and strengthen the rule of law.


We have to challenge the idea that the strongestleaders are those most willing to dismiss human rights on the grounds of national interest. The strongest leaders are those who are capableof pursuing both. Having strong values and the will to act uponthem doesn’t weaken our borders or our militaries – it is their essential foundation.

None of this is to say that the UN is perfect. Of course, it is not. I have never met a field officer who has notrailed against its shortcomings, as I imagine Sergio did in his darkest moments. He, like all of us, wanted a UN that was moredecisive, less bureaucratic, and that lived up to its standards.

 But he never said it was pointless. He never threw in the towel. The UN is an imperfect organization becausewe are imperfect. It is not separate from us. Our decisions, particularly those made bythe Security Council, have played a part in creating the landscape we are dealing withtoday.

 We should always remember why the UN was formed,and what it is for, and take that responsibility seriously. We have to recognize the damage we do when we undermine the UN or use it selectively - or not at all - or when we rely on aid todo the job of diplomacy, or give the UN impossible tasks and then underfund it. For example today, there is not a single humanitarian appeal anywhere in the world that is funded by even half of what is required. In fact it is worse than that.

 Appeals for countries on the brink of faminetoday are 17%, 7%, and 5% funded, for example. Of course, emergency aid is not the long-termanswer. No one prefers that kind of aid. Not citizens of donor countries. Not governments. Not refugees. They do not want to be dependent.

It would be far better to be able to investall our funds in infrastructure and schools and trade and enterprises. But let’s be clear, emergency aid has tocontinue because many states cannot or will not protect the rights of citizens aroundthe world.

It is what we spend in countries where wehave no diplomacy or our diplomacy is not working. Until we do better at preventing and reducingconflict, we are doomed to be in a cycle of having to help feed or shelter people whensocieties collapse.
As another legendary UN leader, who was alsokilled in the line of duty, Dag

Hammerskold, said “Everything will be all right – youknow when? 




When people just people, stop thinking ofthe United Nations as a weird Picasso abstraction and see it as a drawing they made themselves”. The UN can only change if governments changetheir policies. And if we as citizens ask our governmentsto do that.

 It is moving, if you think about it: 

We are the future generations envisaged in the UN Charter. When our grandparents resolved to “spare future generations the scourge of war”, as written in the Charter, they were thinking of us. But as well as dreaming of our safety they also left us a responsibility.

President Roosevelt, addressing the US Congressin January 1945, six months before the end of Second World War, said this:

 “In the field of foreign policy, we proposeto stand together with the United Nations not for the war alone but for the victoryfor which the war is fought”.

He went on: “The firm foundation can be built- and itwill be built. But the continuance and assurance of a livingpeace must, in the long run, be the work of the people themselves.”

Today,
we have to ask ourselves, are we livingup to that mission? They gave us that start. What have we done with it? It is clear to me that we have made huge strides. But our agreements and institutions are onlyas strong as our will to uphold them today.

And if we do not, for whatever reason, we bequeath a darker and more unstable world to all those who come after us. It is not for this that previous generations shed blood and worked so hard on behalf of all of us. The memory of those who came before us holds us true to our ideals.

 Resting unchanging in time, they remind us of who we are and what we stand for. They give us hope to stay in the fight, as Sergio did, until his last breath.

14 years since his death, there is a stronger need than ever before for us to stay true to the ideals and purposes of the United Nations.

 That is what I hope his memory holds us to today. We can’t all be Sergio's. But I hope all of us can determine that we shall be a generation that renews its commitment to

 “unite our strength to maintain international peace and security”, and 
“to promote social progress and better standards of life in larger freedom.”

 But in the final analysis, even if we do not,even if that level of vision eludes us and we continue to simply manage rather than totry to overcome our generation’s challenges, we have to keep working determinedly and patiently. 

And you can be certain, as you do, that youfollow the example of one of the UN’s finest sons: and that to do even a little of hisgood, to apply ourselves to the work he left unfinished, in whatever way we can, is a worthytask for any one of us. Thank you

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Mindy Kaling | Why Not Me |

 Good morning to the Class of 2018, the facility,the parents, the grandparents, fellow honorees, and the paid laughers I have scattered through out the audience. It is an honor to join you this morning for this special occasion.


It is also an honor to speak to you today from behind this gigantic tree stump. Like some sort of female Lorax with an advanced degree That’s right, you guys; I’m hitting Dr.Seuss hard and early in this speech. Because Dartmouth grads have a privilege uniqueamong all the Ivy League: We will be forced to be mini-experts on Dr. Seuss for our entirelives. On my deathbed, I’ll be saying, 

“Did youknow that his real name was Theodor Geisel? Did you know he was editor of the DartmouthJack-O-Lantern?” 

And yes, while no U.S. Presidents have goneto Dartmouth, we can at least lay claim for the wonderful Dr. Seuss.

Another notable alumnus is Salmon P. Chase,the man on the $10,000 bill. A symbolically powerful piece of paper that’slargely useless in the real world. Like a degree in playwriting which I receivedfrom this very institution.


 Thank you for paying for that, Mom and Dad! It’s a thrill to be back here in New Hampshire,the Granite State, known for two things: the place where you can legally not wear yourseatbelt, and Adam Sandler’s birthplace.

 New Hampshire has one of the best mottos ofany state: “Live Free or Die.” For outsiders, it sounds like an excitingdeclaration of freedom; but when you’re here in January, “die” actually soundslike a pretty good option. I remember the days when it was so cold yoursneeze would become an ice sculpture before it hit the ground.




In Los Angeles, where I live now, if I sneeze,I just call my doctor and have my blood replaced with that of a teenage track star. That’s normal there. I’m mostly track star right now. Before I get any further, I should actuallyprobably clarify who I am for the parents and grandparents in the audience who are thinkingto themselves,


  •  “Who is this loud Indian woman? Is that the girl from Quantico? She looks so much worse in person.”



 No, no, I’m not Priyanka Chopra, not even Padma Lakshmi. I’m the other Indian woman we have allowedto be on television, Mindy Kaling.

Thank you, thank you. You may remember me from my role on The Officeas Kelly Kapoor, who internet commenters said was—quote—“shrill” and—quote—“tookup valuable time that could have gone to Steve Carell.” I then created and starred in my own TV show,The Mindy Project.


 Thank you, thank you very much. It was an uphill battle to get the show onthe air, but it was worth it, because it enabled me to become Dartmouth’s most successfulfemale minority show creator who has spoken at commencement!

 Oh wait, no. Shonda Rhimes went here. Yup, and she’s created like 10 more showsthan me, so great. No, cool. Cool, cool, cool, Shonda. Friggin’ role model, good for you. But today is not about famous alumni.


 No, no. It’s about the men and women who have toiledin obscurity for years so that they might better our country. I speak, of course, of the 51 percent of Dartmouthgrads who will go into finance—highest in the Ivy League! Look left. Look right.


 All three of you will be spending at leastten years in a white collar prison. I know that going into the real world soundsscary, but it’s exciting too.

 Finally, you’ll be in control of your ownlives. No longer will there be an irrational Boardof Trustees telling you you can’t have hard liquor on campus, for the ridiculous reasonthat they don’t want you to die.

 Come tomorrow, no one can stop you from fillingyour apartment with $4.99 handles of Uncle Satan’s Unfiltered Potato Vodka. Go crazy. It’s a real moment of reflection for meto be standing here speaking to all of you now, because it makes me harken back to myown time at my Dartmouth graduation.

 Madeleine Albright was my commencement speaker;and while I don’t remember any specific quotes she said, or even a general gist ofwhat she was talking about, I do remember thinking: “I wonder what it will be liketo have my own cell phone?” How things have changed. For all I know, at this very moment, mostof you are posting this speech on your Instagram stories with a GIF of Winnie the Pooh twerking. If you are, please at least use my officialhashtag,


MindyGoesBigGreenTwentyEighteen. Thank you. I bet none of you remember a time before theinternet. Hell, you probably don’t even remember atime before the Facebook page, “Dartmouth Memes for Cold AF Teens.” Yeah, yeah.

 I know about that. Made me feel like a real creep researchingit. “Hello, I’m a 38‑year‑old woman whowants to join your teen Facebook group. It's for research, I swear!” Meanwhile, when I was in college we didn’teven have Google. If you wanted to find out, say, how tall BenAffleck was, you were out of luck.


 You just had to sit there, not knowing, andyour entire day would be ruined. Or, say I wanted to meet up with a friend—Icouldn’t just text her. I had to walk outside and hope I accidentallybumped into her.
 Or, I “blitzed” her. Ah, BlitzMail. You know that feeling you have when you tellyour friends that you “blitz” and they don’t get it and you roll your eyes allsmug like “Oh, it’s a Dartmouth thing.” That ends today.



 You try to say “blitz” one hundred yardseast of White River Junction and you will get laughed back to your one-room triple inthe Choates. Fun fact: In 2001, the year I graduated, apinkeye epidemic broke out amongst my classmates because we were all using public BlitzMailiMac terminals and not washing our hands.



 Those are just the kind of the sexy storiesindicative of my time at Dartmouth. You have so many cool new things here now. Like, look at the new logo, the D-Pine. It’s beautiful. It reminds me of what college-aged Mindy thoughta marijuana leaf might look like but I was too scared to actually find out. And this new House System sounds really cool! It's so Hogwarts-y! You know, you're sorted into your little Gryffindorsand Ravenclaws, except they’re called … South House. West House. School House. Okay, come on guys. School House? Really?



 We’re just saying what we see?


That’s the laziest name I’ve ever heardin my life, and I've spent over a decade working on shows called The Office and The Mindy Project. Still, I remember sitting where you’re sitting. I was so full of questions like, “When isthis thing going to end?” and “How many friends can I invite to dinner and still havemom and dad pay?” And, most importantly, “Why didn’t I wearany clothes underneath my gown?” Now we’re reaching the part of the speechwhere I am supposed to tell you something uplifting like “follow your dreams.”



 In general, advice isn’t actually an effectiveway to change your life. If all it took to make your life great washearing amazing advice, then everyone who watched TED Talks would be a millionaire. So don’t trust any one story of how howto become successful. As Madeline Albright said at my Commencement—see,I don’t remember anything.


 And I did just fine. So here is some practical advice that youmay or may not remember at the end of this speech because, hey, that’s the gig:

 1. First off, remove “Proficient at Word”from your resume.

 That is ridiculous. You’re really scraping the bottom of thebarrel of competency there. This is how you become proficient at Word:You open Word on your computer.


 2. Most of your post-college life is simply fillingout forms. Car insurance, health insurance, W-2s. W-4s, 1099s. Guess what? None of us know what any of those forms mean,but you will fill out a hundred of them before you die.


 3. You never need more than one pancake. Trust me on this. Cartoons have trained us to want a giant stackof those bad boys, but order one first and then just see how you feel later.


 4. This one is just for guys: When you go ondates, act as if every woman you’re talking to is a reporter for an online publicationthat you are scared of. One shouldn’t need the threat of publicexposure and scorn to treat women well; but if that’s what it’s gonna take, fine. Date like everyone’s watching, because weare.

 5. And this might be the most important—buya toilet plunger. Trust me on this. Don’t wait until you need a plunger to buya plunger. Commencement is a time of transition for parents,too. That empty nest you were enjoying these pastfour years? Gone as soon as this speech is over.


 I hope you like full‑time lodgers who don’tpay rent, don’t do laundry, eat all the food in your fridge, and binge Family Guyon your sofa for weeks. That is your life now. Although some of your graduates will be makingmore money than you—51% to be exact. And to the parents of those investment bankers,consultants, and hedge fund analysts—congratulations. Your kids will be fabulously wealthy but stillsomehow sharing your cell phone plan because it—quote—“saves everybody money.” Okay, now let’s get real.











 Let me rip off the Band-Aid for all you, the’18s. Next year, the next year of your life is goingto be bad. You have been in the comfortable fleece-linedwomb of mother Dartmouth for four years now, and you’re gonna go out in the cold, hardworld. Out there in the real world, there will bea target on your back. People will want to confirm their expectationsof Ivy League graduates—that you’re a jerk, that you’re spoiled, that you usethe word “summer” as a verb. Those stereotypes exist for a reason. I mean come on, the guy from the ten-thousand-dollarbill went to this school. You’re graduating into a world where itseems like everything is falling apart.





 Trust in institutions are at a record low;the truth doesn’t seem to matter anymore; and for all I know, the president just tweetedus into a war with Wakanda, a country that doesn’t exist. So, Class of 2018, you are entering a worldthat we have toppled—we have toppled—like a Jenga tower, and we are relying on you torebuild it. But how can you do that with the knowledgethat things are so unstable out there? I’ll tell you my secret, the one thing thathas kept me going through the years, my superpower: delusion. This is something I may share with our president,a fact that is both horrifying and interesting.





 Two years in, I think we can pretty safelysay that he’s not getting carved onto Mount Rushmore; but damn if that isn’t a testamentto how far you can get just by believing you’re the smartest, most successful person in theworld. My point is, you have to have insane confidencein yourself, even if it’s not real. You need to be your own cheerleader now, becausethere isn’t a room full of people waiting with pom‑poms to tell you, “You did it! We’ve been waiting all this time for youto succeed!” So, I’m giving you permission to root foryourself. And while you’re at it, root for those aroundyou, too. It took me a long time to realize that successisn’t a zero-sum game. Which leads me to the next part of my remarks.





 I thought I might take a second to speak tothe ladies in the audience. (Guys, take a break; you don’t have to payattention during this part. Maybe spend the next 30 seconds thinking aboutall the extra money you’ll make in your life for doing the same job as a woman. Pretty sweet.) Hey girls, we need to do a better job of supportingeach other. I know that I am guilty of it too. We live in a world where it seems like there’sonly room for one of us at the table.




 So when another woman shows up, we think,“Oh my god, she’s going to take the one woman spot! That was supposed to be mine!” But that’s just what certain people wantus to do! Wouldn’t it be better if we worked togetherto dismantle a system that makes us feel like there’s limited room for us? Because when women work together, we can accomplishanything.



 Even stealing the world’s most expensivediamond necklace from the Met Gala, like in Ocean’s 8, a movie starring me, which opensin theaters June 8th. And to that end, women, don’t be ashamedto toot your own horn like I just did. Okay, guys, you can listen again. You didn’t miss much. Just remember to see Ocean’s 8, now playingin theaters nationwide. Ocean’s 8: Every con has its pros.







 Now I wanted to share a little bit about me,Mindy Kaling, the Dartmouth student. When I came to Hanover in the fall of 1997,I was, as many of you were: driven, bright, ambitious, and really, really into The BlackEyed Peas. I arrived here as a 17-year-old, took thelay of the land, and immediately began making a checklist of everything I wanted to accomplish.




 I told myself that by the time I graduatedin 2001, I would have checked them all off. And here was my freshman fall checklist: beon Hanover crew, on Lodge crew, be in an a cappella group, be in an improv troupe, writea play that’s performed at the Bentley, do a cartoon for the D, and try to be in acool senior society. And guess what? I completed that checklist. But before you think: “Wait, why is thiswoman just bragging about her accomplishments from 17 years ago?”—keep listening.



 Then, I graduated. And I made a new checklist for my twenties:get married by 27, have kids at 30, win an Oscar, be the star of my own TV show, hostthe MTV Music Awards (this was 2001, guys; it made more sense then), and do it all whilebeing a size 2. Well, spoiler alert: I’ve only done oneof those things, and I’m not sure I will ever do the others. And that is a really scary feeling.





 Knowing how far that I’ve strayed from theperson that I was hoping to be when I was 21. I will tell you a personal story. After my daughter was born in December, Iremember bringing her home and being in my house with her for the first time and thinking,“Huh. According to movies and TV, this is traditionallythe time when my mother and spouse are supposed to be here, sharing this experience with me.” And I looked around, and I had neither. And for a moment, it was kind of scary. Like, “Can I do this by myself?” But then, that feeling went away, becausethe reality is, I’m not doing it by myself.




 I’m surrounded by family and friends wholove and support me. And the joy I feel from being with my daughterKatherine eclipses anything from any crazy checklist. So I just want to tell you guys, don’t bescared if you don’t do things in the right order, or if you don’t do some things atall. I didn’t think I’d have a child beforeI got married, but hey, it turned out that way, and I wouldn’t change a thing.




 I didn’t think I’d have dessert beforebreakfast today, but hey, it turned out that way and I wouldn’t change a thing. So if I could impart any advice, it’s this:If you have a checklist, good for you. Structured ambition can sometimes be motivating. But also, feel free to let it go. Yes, my culminating advice from my speechis a song from the Disney animated movie, Frozen. I’ve covered a lot of ground today, notall of it was serious, but I wanted to leave you with this: I was not someone who shouldhave the life I have now, and yet I do.





 I was sitting in the chair you are literallysitting in right now and I just whispered, “Why not me?” And I kept whispering it for seventeen years;and here I am, someone that this school deemed worthy enough to speak to you at your Commencement. Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’tdo something, but especially not yourself. Go conquer the world. Just remember this: Why not you? You made it this far. Thank you very much, and congratulations tothe Class of 2018. 
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Conan O'brien || Failure happens ||

 I've been living in Los Angeles for two years,and I've never been this cold in my life. 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 behindme sits a highly admired President of the United States and decorated war hero whileI, a cable television talk show host, has been chosen to stand here and impart wisdom. I pray I never witness a more damning exampleof 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 DartmouthClass 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 diplomayou now have a crushing advantage over 8 percent of the workforce. I'm talking about dropout losers like BillGates, 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 withsomeone in the next room. My first job as your commencement speakeris to illustrate that life is not fair. For example, you have worked tirelessly forfour years to earn the diploma you’ll be receiving this weekend. That was great. And Dartmouth is giving me the same degreefor interviewing the fourth lead in Twilight. Deal with it. Another example that life is not fair: ifit does rain, the powerful rich people on stage get the tent. Deal with it. I would like to thank President Kim for invitingme here today. After my phone call with President Kim, Idecided 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 ofGlobal Health and Social Medicine at Harvard Medical School, spearheaded a task force forthe 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 compensatingfor? Seriously. We get it. You're smart. By the way Dr. Kim, you were brought to Dartmouthto lead, and as a world-class anthropologist, you were also hired to figure out why eachof these graduating students ran around a bonfire 111 times. But I thank you for inviting me here, StinkyPete, 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 inevery seat. I did it to prove a point: I am not brightand I have a lot of free time. But this is a wonderful occasion and it isgreat to be here in New Hampshire, where I am getting an honorary degree and all thelegal fireworks I can fit in the trunk of my car. You know, New Hampshire is such a specialplace. When I arrived I took a deep breath of thiscrisp New England air and thought, "Wow, I'm in the state that's next to the state whereBen and Jerry's ice cream is made." But don't get me wrong, I take my task todayvery seriously. When I got the call two months ago to be yourspeaker, I decided to prepare with the same intensity many of you have devoted to an importantterm paper. So late last night, I began. I drank two cans of Red Bull, snorted someAdderall, 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, UnitedStates." Thank you and good luck. To communicate with you students today, Ihave gone to great lengths to become well-versed in your unique linguistic patterns. In fact, just this morning I left Baker Berrywith my tripee Barry to eat a Billy Bob at the Bema when my flitz to Francesca was Blitzjacked by some d-bag on his FSP. Yes, I've done my research. This college was named after the Second Earlof Dartmouth, a good friend of the Third Earl of UC Santa Cruz and the Duke of the BarbizonSchool 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 mottoI have ever heard. Apparently, it narrowly beat out "SilentlyWeeping in Thick Shrub" and "Whimpering in Moist Leaves without Pants." Your school color is green, and this colorwas chosen by Frederick Mather in 1867 because, and this is true—I looked it up—"it wasthe 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 Americansthan 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' ValedictoryAddress by your esteemed classmate, Count Chocula. Of course, your greatest fictitious graduateis Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner. Man, can you imagine if a real Treasury Secretarymade 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 hearingabout Dr. Seuss. Face it: The man rhymed fafloozle with saznoozle. In the literary community, that's called cheating. Your insecurity is so great, Dartmouth, thatyou 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 ofSurvivor: Nova Scotia. Seriously, it looks like something a bearwould use at an AA meeting. No, Dartmouth, you must stand tall. Raise your heads high and feel proud. Because if Harvard, Yale, and Princeton areyour 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 downvest. Brown, of course, is your lesbian sister whonever leaves her room. And Penn, Columbia, and Cornell—well, frankly,who gives a shit. Yes, I've always had a special bond with thisschool. 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 backthen. 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 stayedwith a family of fur traders in White River Junction. It snowed heavily during my visit and I wastrapped here for four months. I was forced to eat the mule, who a week earlierhad 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 asmall, local commuter school, a pulsating sore on a muddy elbow of the Charles River. I was a miserable wretch, and to this dayI cannot help but wonder: What if I had gone to Dartmouth? If I had gone to Dartmouth, I might have spentat least some of my college years outside and today I might not be allergic to all plantlife, as well as most types of rock. If I had gone to Dartmouth, right now I'dbe wearing a fleece thong instead of a lace thong. If I had gone to Dartmouth, I still wouldn'tknow 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 liverthe size and consistency of a bean bag chair. Finally, if I had gone to Dartmouth, todayI'd be getting an honorary degree at Harvard. Imagine how awesome that would be. You are a great school, and you deserve ahistoric commencement address. That's right, I want my message today to beforever remembered because it changed the world. To do this, I must suggest groundbreakingpolicy. Winston Churchill gave his famous "Iron Curtain"speech at Westminster College in 1946. JFK outlined his nuclear disarmament policyat American University in 1963. Today, I would like to set forth my own policyhere at Dartmouth: I call it "The Conan Doctrine." Under "The Conan Doctrine": - All bachelor degrees will be upgraded tomaster's degrees. All master's degrees will be upgraded to PhDs. And all MBA students will be immediately transferredto a white collar prison. - Under "The Conan Doctrine," Winter Carnivalwill become Winter Carnivale and be moved to Rio. Clothing will be optional, all expenses paidby the Alumni Association. - Your nickname, the Big Green, will be changedto something more kick-ass like "The Jade Blade," the "Seafoam Avenger," or simply "Lime-Zilla." - The D-Plan and "quarter system" will finallybe updated to "the one sixty-fourth system." Semesters will last three days. Students will be encouraged to take 48 semestersoff. They must, however, be on campus during theirSophomore 4th of July. - Under "The Conan Doctrine," I will re-instateTubestock. And I will punish those who tried to replaceit with Fieldstock. Rafting and beer are a much better combinationthan a field and a beer. I happen to know that in two years, they weregoing to downgrade Fieldstock to Deskstock, seven hours of fun sitting quietly at yourdesk. Don't let those bastards do it. And finally, under "The Conan Doctrine," allcommencement speakers who shamelessly pander with cheap, inside references designed toget childish applause, will be forced to apologize—to the greatest graduating class in the historyof the world. Dartmouth class of 2011 rules! Besides policy, another hallmark of greatcommencement speeches is deep, profound advice like "reach for the stars." Well today, I am not going to waste your timewith empty clichés. Instead, I am going to give you real, practicaladvice that you will need to know if you are going to survive the next few years. - First, adult acne lasts longer than youthink. I almost cancelled two days ago because Ihad a zit on my eye. - Guys, this is important: You cannot irona 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-topsbeneath your graduation robe is a great way to tell your classmates that this is justthe first of many horrible decisions you plan to make with the rest of your life. Of course there are many parents here andI have real advice for them as well. Parents, you should write this down: - Many of your children you haven't seen themin four years. Well, now you are about to see them everyday 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 qualifiedto get a job is ancient Greece. Good luck with that degree. - The traffic today on East Wheelock is goingto be murder, so once they start handing out diplomas, you should slip out in the middleof the K's. And, I have to tell you this: - You will spend more money framing your child'sdiploma than they will earn in the next six months. It's tough out there, so be patient. The only people hiring right now are PaneraBread and Mexican drug cartels. Yes, you parents must be patient because itis indeed a grim job market out there. And one of the reasons it's so tough findingwork is that aging baby boomers refuse to leave their jobs. Trust me on this. Even when they promise you for five yearsthat they are going to leave—and say it on television—I mean you can go on YouTuberight 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 prognosticationsor negativity. No, I came here today because, believe itor not, I actually do have something real to tell you. Eleven years ago I gave an address to a graduatingclass at Harvard. I have not spoken at a graduation since becauseI thought I had nothing left to say. But then 2010 came. And now I'm here, three thousand miles frommy home, because I learned a hard but profound lesson last year and I'd like to share itwith you. In 2000, I told graduates "Don't be afraidto fail." Well now I'm here to tell you that, thoughyou should not fear failure, you should do your very best to avoid it. Nietzsche famously said "Whatever doesn'tkill you makes you stronger." But what he failed to stress is that it almostkills you. Disappointment stings and, for driven, successfulpeople like yourselves it is disorienting. What Nietzsche should have said is "Whateverdoesn't kill you, makes you watch a lot of Cartoon Network and drink mid-price Chardonnayat 11 in the morning." Now, by definition, Commencement speakersat an Ivy League college are considered successful. But a little over a year ago, I experienceda profound and very public disappointment. I did not get what I wanted, and I left asystem that had nurtured and helped define me for the better part of 17 years. I went from being in the center of the gridto not only off the grid, but underneath the coffee table that the grid sits on, lost inthe shag carpeting that is underneath the coffee table supporting the grid. It was the making of a career disaster, anda terrible analogy. But then something spectacular happened. Fogbound, with no compass, and adrift, I startedtrying things. I grew a strange, cinnamon beard. I dove into the world of social media. I started tweeting my comedy. I threw together a national tour. I played the guitar. I did stand-up, wore a skin-tight blue leathersuit, recorded an album, made a documentary, and frightened my friends and family. Ultimately, I abandoned all preconceived perceptionsof my career path and stature and took a job on basic cable with a network most famousfor showing reruns, along with sitcoms created by a tall, black man who dresses like an old,black woman. I did a lot of silly, unconventional, spontaneousand seemingly irrational things and guess what: with the exception of the blue leathersuit, it was the most satisfying and fascinating year of my professional life. To this day I still don't understand exactlywhat happened, but I have never had more fun, been more challenged—and this is important—hadmore conviction about what I was doing. How could this be true? Well, it's simple: There are few things moreliberating in this life than having your worst fear realized. I went to college with many people who pridedthemselves on knowing exactly who they were and exactly where they were going. At Harvard, five different guys in my classtold me that they would one day be President of the United States. Four of them were later killed in motel shoot-outs. The other one briefly hosted Blues Clues,before dying senselessly in yet another motel shoot-out. Your path at 22 will not necessarily be yourpath at 32 or 42. One's dream is constantly evolving, risingand falling, changing course. This happens in every job, but because I haveworked in comedy for twenty-five years, I can probably speak best about my own profession. Way back in the 1940s there was a very, veryfunny man named Jack Benny. He was a giant star, easily one of the greatestcomedians of his generation. And a much younger man named Johnny Carsonwanted very much to be Jack Benny. In some ways he was, but in many ways he wasn't. He emulated Jack Benny, but his own quirksand mannerisms, along with a changing medium, pulled him in a different direction. And yet his failure to completely become hishero made him the funniest person of his generation. David Letterman wanted to be Johnny Carson,and was not, and as a result my generation of comedians wanted to be David Letterman. And none of us are. My peers and I have all missed that mark ina thousand different ways. But the point is this : It is our failureto become our perceived ideal that ultimately defines us and makes us unique. It's not easy, but if you accept your misfortuneand handle it right, your perceived failure can become a catalyst for profound re-invention. So, at the age of 47, after 25 years of obsessivelypursuing my dream, that dream changed. For decades, in show business, the ultimategoal of every comedian was to host The Tonight Show. It was the Holy Grail, and like many peopleI thought that achieving that goal would define me as successful. But that is not true. No specific job or career goal defines me,and it should not define you. In 2000—in 2000—I told graduates to notbe afraid to fail, and I still believe that. But today I tell you that whether you fearit or not, disappointment will come. The beauty is that through disappointmentyou can gain clarity, and with clarity comes conviction and true originality. Many of you here today are getting your diplomaat this Ivy League school because you have committed yourself to a dream and worked hardto achieve it. And there is no greater cliché in a commencementaddress than "follow your dream." Well I am here to tell you that whatever youthink your dream is now, it will probably change. And that's okay. Four years ago, many of you had a specificvision of what your college experience was going to be and who you were going to become. And I bet, today, most of you would admitthat your time here was very different from what you imagined. Your roommates changed, your major changed,for some of you your sexual orientation changed. I bet some of you have changed your sexualorientation since I began this speech. I know I have. But through the good and especially the bad,the person you are now is someone you could never have conjured in the fall of 2007. I have told you many things today, most ofit foolish but some of it true. I'd like to end my address by breaking a tabooand quoting myself from 17 months ago. At the end of my final program with NBC, justbefore signing off, I said "Work hard, be kind, and amazing things will happen." Today, receiving this honor and speaking tothe Dartmouth Class of 2011 from behind a tree-trunk, I have never believed that more. Thank you very much, and congratulations. 
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Will Ferrell || Trust Your Gut ||

 It is such an honor to deliver this year’scommencement address to the University of Southern California’s graduating class of2017. I would like to say thank you, graduates,for that warm welcome. I would also like to apologize to all theparents who are sitting there, saying, ‘Will Ferrell? Why will Ferrell? I hate Will Ferrell. I hate him. I hate his movies. He’s gross. Although he’s much better-looking in person. Has he lost weight?’ By the way, that discussion is happening outthere right now. Today I have also received an honorary doctorate,for which I would like to give my thanks to President Max Nikias. I would also like to recognize my esteemedfellow honorary doctorates, Suzanne Dworak-Peck, a great humanitarian and visionary in thefield of social work. Dr. Gary Michelson, whose innovation as oneof the country’s leading orthopedic spinal surgeons has revolutionized this field.





Mark Ridley Thomas, a pillar of local andstate government for over 25 years. David Ho whose work in AIDS research led himto be TIME Magazine’s Man of the Year for 1996. And one of the great actors of our time, Academy-Awardwinning actress Dame Helen Mirren. And then there’s me. Will Ferrell, whose achievements include runningnaked through the city of Montrose in Old School. Montrose in the house, alright. Running around in my underwear and racinghelmet, thinking that I’m on fire as Ricky Bobby in Talladega Nights. Running around in Elf tights eating gum offthe ground and playing cowbell. I think my fellow doctorates would agree basedon our achievements we are all on equal footing. I want the university to know that I do nottake this prestigious honor lightly. I’ve already instructed my wife and my children,from this point on, they have to address me as Dr. Ferrell. There will be no exceptions. Especially at our children’s various schoolfunctions and when opening Christmas presents. ‘Yay, we got the new Xbox, thank you Dad! I mean, Dr. Ferrell.’ I’ve been informed that I can now performminimally invasive surgery at any time or any place, even if people don’t want it. In fact, I am legally obligated to performminor surgery at the end of today’s ceremonies, or my doctor’s degree will be revoked. So if anyone has a sore tooth that needs tobe removed or wants hernia surgery, please meet me at the “surgery center” – by“surgery center” I mean a windowless van I have parked over by the Coliseum. The next time I’m flying and they ask ifthere’s a doctor on board, I can now confidently leap to my feet and scream, ‘I’m a doctor,what can I do? Yes, no problem, I can absolutely deliverthat baby.’ Hopefully it will be on United Airlines, inwhich I will be immediately be subdued and dragged off the aircraft, which we all knowwill be recorded on someone’s iPhone and put on YouTube. You will hear me say, “Call Max Nikias,President of USC. He told me I’m a doctor.’ Rest assured, President Nikias, I will usemy powers wisely. Although this is my first commencement addressI have delivered to an actual university, this is not my first commencement speech. The institutions to which I have spoken atpreviously include Bryman School of Nursing, DeVry Technical School, Debbie Dudeson Schoolof Trucking, University of Phoenix, Hollywood DJ Academy and Trump University. I am still waiting to get paid from TrumpUniversity. In fact, it turns out I owe Trump Universitymoney for the honor to speak at Trump University. You are the graduating class of 2017. And by every statistical analysis you arecollectively considered the strongest class ever to graduate from this university. All of you have excelled in various coursesof study. All of you, except for four students. And you know exactly who you are. If you would care to stand and reveal yourselfright now, that would be great, those four students. There’s one. Two. Three, four, five, six, eight, more like 20. Very honest of you. It is incredibly surreal, one might even sayunbelievable, that I get to deliver this address to you. As a freshman in the fall of 1986, if youwere to come up to me and say that in the year 2017 you, Will Ferrell, will be deliveringthe commencement address for USC, I would have hugged you with tears in my eyes. I then would have asked this person from thefuture, ‘Does that mean I graduated?’ ‘Yes, you did,’ says the person from thefuture. ‘What else can you tell me about the future?’ Future person turns to me and says, ‘I cantell you that you will become one of the most famous alumni in this university, mentionedin the same breath as John Wayne, Neil Armstrong and Rob Kardashian. You will be referenced in rap songs from KanyeWest, to Little Wayne to Drake. Nas will say, ‘Get me real bonkers likeWill Ferrell on cat tranquilizer.’’ ‘Is that it?’ I would ask. ‘Yes, that sums it up. Except one other thing – in the future therewill be something called Shake Shack. It will start in New York and then come toLA and people will wait hours for a milkshake that is definitely good but not that goodthat you should wait two hours.’ So yes, if I had heard all of that I wouldhave been incredulous at best. But it turns out I did graduate in 1990 witha degree in Sports Information. Yes. You heard me, Sports Information. A program so difficult, so arduous, that theydiscontinued the major eight years after I left. Those of us with Sports Information degreesare an elite group. We are like the Navy Seals of USC graduates. There are very few of us and there was a highdropout rate. So I graduate and I immediately get a jobright out of college working for ESPN, right? Wrong. No, I moved right back home. Back home to the mean streets of Irvine, California. Yes. Irvine always gets that response. Pretty great success story, right? Yeah, I moved back home for a solid two years,I might add. And I was lucky, actually. Lucky that I had a very supportive and understandingmother, who is sitting out there in the crowd, who let me move back home. And she recognized that while I had an interestin pursuing sportscasting, my gut was telling me that I really wanted to pursue somethingelse. And that something else was comedy. For you see, the seeds for this journey wereplanted right here on this campus. This campus was a theater or testing lab ifyou will. I was always trying to make my friends laughwhenever I could find a moment. I had a work-study job at the humanities audiovisualdepartment that would allow me to take off from time to time. By allow me, I mean I would just leave andthey didn’t notice. So I would literally leave my job if I knewfriends were attending class close by and crash a lecture while in character. My good buddy Emil, who’s also here today– Emil, in the house – Emil told me one day that I should crash his Thematic Optionsliterature class one day. So I cobbled together a janitor’s outfitcomplete with work gloves, safety goggles, a dangling lit cigarette, and a bucket fullof cleaning supplies. And then I proceeded to walk into the class,interrupting the lecture, informing the professor that I’d just been sent from Physical Plantto clean up a student’s vomit. True story. What Emil neglected to tell me was that theprofessor of his class was Ronald Gottesman, a professor who co-edited the Norton Anthologyof American literature. Needless to say a big-time guy. A month after visiting my friend’s classas a janitor, I was walking through the campus when someone grabbed me by the shoulder andit was Ron Gottesman. I thought for sure he was going to tell meto never do that again. Instead what he told me was that he lovedmy barging in on his class and that he thought it was one of the funniest things he’d everseen and would I please do it again? So on invitation from Professor GottesmanI would barge in on his lecture class from time to time as the guy from Physical Plantcoming by to check on things, and the professor would joyfully play along. One time I got my hands on a power drill andI just stood outside the classroom door operating the drill for a good minute. Unbeknownst to me, Professor Gottesman waswondering aloud to his class, ‘I wonder if we’re about to get a visit from our PhysicalPlant guy?’ I then walked in as if on cue and the wholeclass erupted in laughter. After leaving, Professor Gottesman then weavedthe surprise visit into his lecture on Walt Whitman and the Leaves of Grass. Moments like these encouraged me to thinkmaybe I was funny to whole groups of people who didn’t know me, and this wonderful professorhad no idea how his encouragement of me — to come and interrupt his class no less — wasenough to give myself permission to be silly and weird. My senior year I would discover a comedy andimprov troupe called the Groundlings located on Melrose Avenue. This was the theater company and school thatgave the starts to Laraine Newman, Phil Hartman, John Lovitz, Pee Wee Herman, Conan O’Brien,Lisa Kudrow to name a few. Later it would become my home where I wouldmeet the likes of Chris Kattan, Cheri O’Teri, Ana Gasteyer, Chris Parnell, Maya Rudolph,Will Forte and Kristin Wiig. I went to one of their shows during the springsemester of my senior year and in fact got pulled up onstage during an audience participationsketch. I was so afraid and awestruck at what theactors were doing that I didn’t utter a word. And even in this moment of abject fear andtotal failure I found it to be thrilling to be on that stage. I then knew I wanted to be a comedic actor. So starting in the fall of 1991, for the nextthree and a half years I was taking classes and performing in various shows at the Groundlingsand around Los Angeles. I was even trying my hand at stand-up comedy. Not great stand-up, mind you, but enough materialto get myself up in front of strangers. I would work the phones to invite all my SCfriends to places like Nino’s Italian Restaurant in Long Beach, the San Juan Depot in San Juan,Capistrano, and the Cannery in Newport Beach. And those members of my Trojan family wouldalways show up. My stand-up act was based mostly on materialderived from watching old episodes of Star Trek. My opening joke was to sing the opening themeto Star Trek. [Sings] Thank you. Not even funny, just weird. But I didn’t care, I was just trying tothrow as many darts at the dart board, hoping that one would eventually stick. Now don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t extremelyconfident that I would succeed during this time period, and after moving back to LA therewere many a night where in my LA apartment, I would sit down to a meal of spaghetti toppedwith mustard, with only $20 in my checking account and I would think to myself, ‘Ohwell I can always be a substitute schoolteacher.’ And yes, I was afraid. You’re never not afraid. I’m still afraid. I was afraid to write this speech. And now, I’m just realizing how many peopleare watching me right now, and it’s scary. Can you please look away while I deliver therest of the speech? But my fear of failure never approached inmagnitude my fear of what if. What if I never tried at all? By the spring of 1995 producers from SaturdayNight Live had come to see the current show at the Groundlings. After two harrowing auditions and two meetingswith executive producer Lorne Michaels, which all took place over the course of six weeks,I got the word I was hired to the cast of Saturday Night Live for the ‘95-‘96 season. I couldn’t believe it. And even though I went on to enjoy seven seasonson the show, it was rocky beginning for me. After my first show, one reviewer referredto me as ‘the most annoying newcomer of the new cast.’ Someone showed this to me and I promptly putit up on the wall in my office, reminding myself that to some people I will be annoying. Some people will not think I’m funny, andthat that’s okay. One woman wrote to me and said she hated myportrayal of George W. Bush. It was mean-spirited, not funny and besidesyou have a fat face. I wrote her back and I said, I appreciateyour letter and she was entitled to her opinion, but that my job as a comedian especially ona show like Saturday Night Live was to hold up a mirror to our political leaders and engagefrom time to time in satirical reflection. As for my fat face, you are 100% right. I’m trying to work on that. Please don’t hesitate to write me againif you feel like I’ve lost some weight in my face. The venerable television critic for the WashingtonPost Tom Shales came up to me during my last season of the show. He told me congratulations on my time at theshow and then he apologized for things he had written about me in some of his earlyreviews of my work. I paused for a second before I spoke, andthen I said, ‘How dare you, you son of a bitch?’ I could tell this startled him, and then Itold him I was kidding, and that I’d never read any of his reviews. It was true, I hadn’t read his reviews. In fact I didn’t read any reviews becauseonce again, I was too busy throwing darts at the dartboard, all the while facing myfears. Even as I left SNL, none of the studios werewilling to take a chance on me as a comedy star. It took us three years of shopping Anchormanaround before anyone would make it. When I left SNL all I really had was a moviecalled Old School that wouldn’t be released for another year, and a sub-par script thatneeded a huge rewrite about a man raised by elves at the North Pole. Even now I still lose out on parts that Iwant so desperately. My most painful example was losing the roleof Queen Elizabeth in the film The Queen. Apparently it came down to two actors, myselfand Helen Mirren. The rest is history. Dame Helen Mirren, you stole my Oscar! Now one may look at me as having great success,which I have in the strictest sense of the word, and don’t get me wrong, I love whatI do and I feel so fortunate to get to entertain people. But to me, my definition of success is my16-and-a-half-year marriage to my beautiful and talented wife, Vivica. Success are my three amazing sons, Magnus,13, Matthias, 10 and Axel age 7. Right there, stand up guys, take a bow, thereyou go. Success to me is my involvement in the charityCancer for College, which gives college scholarships to cancer survivors, started by my great friendand SC alum Craig Pollard, a two-time cancer survivor himself, who thought of the charitywhile we were fraternity brothers at the Delt house, up on West Adams. Craig was also one of the members of my Trojanfamily sitting front-and-center at my bad stand-up comedy shows, cheering me on. No matter how cliché it may sound you willnever truly be successful until you learn to give beyond yourself. Empathy and kindness are the true signs ofemotional intelligence, and that’s what Viv and I try to teach our boys. Hey Matthias, get your hands of Axel rightnow! Stop it. I can see you. Okay? Dr. Ferrell’s watching you. To those of you graduates sitting out therewho have a pretty good idea of what you’d like to do with your life, congratulations. For many of you who maybe don’t have itall figured out, it’s okay. That’s the same chair that I sat in. Enjoy the process of your search without succumbingto the pressure of the result. Trust your gut, keep throwing darts at thedartboard. Don’t listen to the critics and you willfigure it out. Class of 2017, I just want you to know youwill never be alone on whatever path you may choose. If you do have a moment where you feel a littledown just think of the support you have from this great Trojan family and imagine me, literallypicture my face, singing this song gently into your ear: If I should stay, I would onlybe in your way. So I’ll go, but I know, I’ll think ofyou every step of the way. And I will always love you, will always loveyou, will always love you, Class of 2017. And I will always love you. Thank you, fight on! 
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Ellen Degeneres | Be True To Yourself |

 Thank you, President Cowan, Mrs. PresidentCowen; distinguished guests, undistinguished guests, you know who you are, honored facultyand creepy Spanish teacher. 

And thank you to all the graduating classof 2009, I realize most of you are hungover and have splitting headaches and haven’tslept since Fat Tuesday, but you can’t graduate ’til I finish, so listen up. When I was asked to make the commencementspeech, I immediately said yes.

 Then I went to look up what Poco X3 lite new leaks , Full specifications and many more. meantwhich would have been easy if I had a dictionary, but most of the books in our house are Portia’s,and they’re all written in Australian. So I had to break the word down myself, tofind out the meaning.






Commencement: common, and cement, common cement. You commonly see cement on sidewalks. Sidewalks have cracks, and if you step ona crack, you break your mother’s back. So there’s that. But I’m honored that you’ve asked me hereto speak at your common cement. 

I thought that you had to be a famous alumnus,alumini, aluminum, alumis; you had to graduate from this school. And I didn’t go to college here, and I don’tknow if President Cowan knows, I didn’t go to any college at all, any college. 

And I’m not saying you wasted your time,or money, but look at me, I’m a huge celebrity. Although I did graduate from the school ofhard knocks, our mascot was the knockers. I spent a lot of time here growing up. My mom worked at Newcomb and I would go thereevery time I needed to steal something out of her purse. 

But why am I here today? Clearly not to steal, you’re too far awayand I’d never get away with it. I’m here because of you. Because I can’t think of a more tenacious,more courageous graduating class. I mean, look at you all, wearing your robes. 
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Peter Dinklage | Are You Afraid of Change? |

 Don’t be frightened! When a Bennington student, 10 minutes beforeyou come up to the podium hands you a mace, that he made, If you don’t bring it to the podium withyou, you will never be Bennington. So I would like to thank you Ben for helpingme put the fear of God in the audience tonight. But I have to put it down because I’m anactor, and I am really weak. That was heavy! It wasn’t like a prop. That shit was real! Thanks Ben. So now I’m going to read. And I’m not off book. So I might be looking down a lot. Thank you, President Coleman, Brian Conover,faculty, students, family, alumni, some of whom are dear friends of mine who have travelledall the way from the big city to see me hopefully not humiliate myself tonight.





And especially thanks to you, the GraduatingClass of 2012. See, as a joke I wrote, hold for applause,and I was actually going to read that. So you kind of killed my joke! Let’s do that again. 2012, hold for applause. 2012! Wow! I never thought I’d see 2012. I thought perhaps the Mayan calendar wouldprove correct. And the end of the world would have been thegreatest excuse to get me out of this terrifying task of delivering the commencement speech. But wait! According to the Mayan calendar here, whendoes the world end? December — December 2012. Damn! Okay. Maybe I shouldn’t talk to the graduateseager to start their new lives about the end of the world. Okay. Really? Really? Of all the novelists, teachers, playwrights,poets, groundbreaking visual artists and pioneers of science, you got the TV actor. No, no, and I actually heard you petitionedfor me. Oh, you fools! You know what, for those of you who didn’tpetition for me, I would love to later on talk about the problems in the Middle Eastand the downfall of the world economy. And for those of you who did petition forme, I don’t have any signed DVDs of the Game of Thrones. But I am happy to talk about the parallellineages of the Targaryens and Lannisters later at the bar. You see, it took all of my strength, and,of course, a little extra push from my wife Erica for me to agree to do this. Because I don’t do this. In my profession, I am told by people whoknow what they’re doing, where to stand, how to look, and most importantly, what tosay. But you’ve got me — only me — my wordsunedited and as you will see quite embarrassing. Okay, let me think. I’m thinking. [But actually I didn’t read that. That was ad libbed.] Let me think. What has — everyone and their uncle toldme, as I desperately seek out advice on how to give a commencement address. “Tell them what they want to hear.” “Talk about your time at Bennington.” “Know that there is no wrong speech.” I like that one. “Just keep it brief.” That was my father-in-law. “Be brutally honest. Tell them how hard it is after you graduate.” We’ll get back to that one. “Just watch Meryl Streep’s commencementspeech at Barnard and you’ll be fine.” What did Beckett say: “I Can’t Go On,I’ll Go On”. So even if I don’t burn in your hearts andminds long after this speech is over. Even if I don’t inspire you to reach forthe stars and beyond. Even if I am erased from your memory afterone glass of wine tonight — Where am I going with this? I can’t go on. I’ll go on. You know, I won’t speak of my time here,like some old fishermen. You have already had your time here. You have your own story to tell. But I have to say. For me, it did start here, in Vermont, ona very rainy night. It was 1987. And I was a prospective student. The rain was coming down so hard, it was impossibleto see that I was meeting the person who would later become my greatest friend and collaborator. A freshman, who would, 17 years later, introduceme to the woman that became my wife. I’ll call him Sherm. Because I do. It was late at night, on the road, right therenear Booth House. And despite the dark night and the heavy rain,this place was so alive. The lights pulsed from each of the dorms. Now I was a kid from New Jersey who went toan all-boys catholic high school. I was four-foot something. I mumbled when I spoke. I wore a sort of woman’s black velvet cape,black tights, combat boots and a scowl. But here at Bennington, I was home. And I have to say it doesn’t get better. Let me clarify. There are not shinier more important peopleout there. Your fellow students, you friends sittingaround you are as good as it gets. Twenty two years after my own graduation,I have worked with my rainy night friend and fellow graduate Sherm on countless productionshe has written, in all stages of development from living rooms to off-Broadway. Brooks, Ian, Justin, Brett, John, Matthew,Jim, Sean, Hyla, Nicki and The B are all classmates I shared my time with here and still workwith, and am lucky to call my friends. We are very spoiled here. People always say to me, “for such a smallschool it seems like there are so many of you”. I find that really interesting. And I kind of think that’s perfect. We can’t help it. We burn very brightly. Please don’t ever stop. Graduates, now when I sat where you are rightsitting right now, I had so many dreams of where I wanted to go, who I wanted to be,and what I wanted to do. Theater companies I wanted to start with classmates. Movies, I wanted to be in. Directors I wanted to work with. Stories I needed to tell. It might take a little time, I thought. But it would happen. When I sat there, 22 years ago, what I didn’twant to think about is where I would be tomorrow. What I would have to start to do tomorrow. And I graduated in 1991, a great year. A time of resurgence for independent filmsin this country. A time of relatively affordable rents in NewYork City. See, I assumed that I could make a livingwriting my plays, acting way off off off Broadway. And hopefully, you know, one day, join theactors I loved and respected in those independent films. TV – oh, what, no. What! Are you kidding me? No, didn’t even consider that. I had much more class than that. Much more self-respect than that. And so bothers — What I didn’t have was cash, a bank account,a credit card, or an apartment. I just had debt. A big hungry, growing larger every momentdebt. So as you will tomorrow, I had to leave beautifulVermont. Attack the life that I knew with socks anda tooth brush into my backpack. And I slept on ouch, after couch, after couch,after couch at friends’ apartments in New York. Until I wore out the rent paying roommates’welcome. I didn’t want a day job. I was an actor, I was a writer. I was a Bennington graduate. I had to get a day job. I dusted pianos at a piano store and let thosestreak for five months. I worked on the property of a Shakespearescholar for a year pulling weeds and removing bees’ nests. I went on unemployment once but for not forlong, I couldn’t handle the guilt. Eventually I was able to pay rent for a spoton the floor of an apartment on the Lower East side. But my roommate had a breakdown and disappeared. He later resurfaced in a religious cult. I’m making this sound romantic. It really wasn’t. I helped hang paintings at galleries, paintingsthat inspire you to think, I could do that. And then finally, after two years of job andcouch surfing, I got a job in application processing. As a data enterer at a place called ProfessionalExamination Services. And I stayed for six years. Six years! Longer than my time at Bennington. From the age of 23 to 29, well they lovedme there. I was funny. I wore black no cap no tights. I smoked in the loading docks with the guysfrom the mail room and we shared how hung-over we all were. Everyone called each other shortie. What’s up short? How you doing shortie? So how so hung-over shortie? I called in sick almost every Friday becauseI was out late the night before. I hated that job. And I clung to that job. Because of that job, I could afford my ownplace. So I lived in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Yeah, you say that now. Oh, my kingdom for a time machine. Yeah, that’s right. I lived in an industrial loft. My rent was $400 a month. My dream of running a theater company withmy friend and fellow Bennington graduate, Ian bell had died. I won’t go into those details but neitherone of us had any business sense and the theater we lived in. It had no heat or hot water. We didn’t smell very good. But we had our youth, but youth gets old veryquickly. You’ll see. So Ian moved out to Seattle. And I moved up the street to my loft. And I still didn’t have heat. In 1993, industrial loft meant not legal tolive there. See, I don’t want this to sound cool andI feel like it’s sounding cool. Ad lib. But I did have hot water — hot water inmy bathroom, which a friend of mine using that bathroom once shouted, it smells exactlylike. A summer camp in here. It was true. For some reason, in the middle of Brooklyn,there was earth in my shower – actual earth and then oh, look, mushrooms growing fromthe earth. But I was safe though. The ideal fire control company was right acrossthe street where they make all the chemicals that put out chemical fires. I did not fear a chemical fire. I would be OK. And all those chemicals in the air were OKtoo. Because up the street we had the spice factory,they made spices, and that just covered everything up in a nice cumin scent. I had a rat. But that was OK, because I got a cat. His name was Brian, no relation. My grandmother had given me a pink pull-outcouch. Oddly no friends or recent graduates wantedto crash on my couch. So I put the couch on its end, so Brian couldclimb it and look out the window. I had only the one window. I myself could not look out the window. It was – it was quite high. So I had no heat. No girlfriend. What! Are you kidding me? No, acting agent. But I had a cat named Brian who told me ofthe world outside. And I stayed for 10 years. No, don’t pity me. There’s a happy ending. When I was 29, I told myself the next actingjob I get no matter what it pays, I will from now on, for better or worse, be a workingactor. So I quit my position at the ProfessionalExamination Services. My friends really weren’t happy about that,because it was so easy to find me when I worked there. Work – that was the only place I had theinternet. This was at the beginning of the Internet. And now I didn’t have either the internetor a cell phone or a job. But something good happened. I got a little pink theater job in a playcalled Imperfect Love. Which led to a film called 13 Moons with thesame writer. Which led to other roles. Which led to other roles. And I’ve worked as an actor ever since. But I didn’t know that would happen. At 29, walking away from data processing,I was terrified. Ten years in a place without heat. Six years at a job, I felt stuck in. Maybe I was afraid of change. Are you? My parents didn’t have much money. But they struggled to send me to the bestschools. And one of the most important things theydid for me — and graduates, maybe you don’t want to hear this – is that once I graduated,I was on my own. Financially, it was my turn. Parents are applauding, graduates are not. But this made me very hungry. Literally. I couldn’t be lazy. Now I’m totally lazy but back then, I couldn’tbe. And so at 29, in a very long last, I was inthe company of the actors and writers and directors I’d start out that first year,that first day after school. I was. I am by their sides. Raise the rest of your life to meet you. Don’t search for defining moments becausethey will never come. Well, the birth of your children, OK, of course,forget about it, that’s just six months. My life is forever changed, that’s mostdefining moment ever. But I’m talking about in the rest of yourlife and most importantly in your work. The moments that define you have already happened. And they will already happen again. And it passes so quickly. So please bring each other along with you. Everyone you need is in this room. These are the shiny more important people. Sorry, it sucks after graduation. It really does. I mean, I don’t know. At least it did for me. But that’s the only thing I know. You just get a bit derailed. But soon something starts to happen. Trust me. A rhythm sets in. Just like it did after your first few dayshere. Just try not to wait until like me, you’re29 before you find it. And if you are, that’s fine too. Some of us never find it. But you will, I promise you. You are already here. That’s such an enormous step all its own. You’ll find your rhythm, or continue theone you have already found. I was walking downtown in Manhattan the otherday. And I was approached by a group of very sweetyoung ladies. Easy. Actually they’re sort of running feverishlydown the street after me. When they got to me breathless, it was really— they didn’t know what to say, or couldn’t form the words. But it came out that they were NYU freshmen. And they were majoring in musical theater. Of course, come on. They were like science majors. They are running after me. “What musicals are you doing?” I inquired. “Well,” one of them said, looking downat her shoes, “we aren’t allowed to be in plays in our freshman year”. Now they were paying a very high tuition tonot do what they love doing. I think I said, “Well, hang in there”. What I should have said was, “Don’t waituntil they tell you you are ready. Get in there”. Sing or quickly transfer to Bennington. When I went to school here, if a freshmanwanted to write direct and star in her own musical, the lights would already be hungfor her. Now I tell the story, because the world mightsay you are not allowed to yet. I waited a long time out in the world beforeI gave myself permission to fail. Please, don’t even bother asking, don’tbother telling the world you are ready. Show it. Do it. What did Beckett say? “Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better.” Bennington Class of 2012, the world is yours. Treat everyone kindly and light up the night. Thank you so much for having me here. 
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