Exclusive Evil - The First (And Last) Honest Graduation

Everything we wish we knew.

Situation Normal’s Michael Estrin. Field Research’s Amran Gowani. A third guy. Apologia’s back with speeches for the last graduating class to enjoy air or pine trees. After bringing ad agency empathy to voting and Super Bowl Sunday, we’re proud to advise a new generation.

Send it everywhere. Graduates. Non-graduates. People that don’t read. People you don’t even like, or know. You’ll change their lives.

---

Principal Scopes: It’s an honor to watch you become proud B. Siegel Academy graduates. But first, a little parting wisdom.

In the fall, we misplaced every book with the word “slavery.” Some complaints followed. Apologia helped the world see our side, saving our community’s intellectual diversity. I’m happy to have them speak today, to prepare you for the world to come.

Our first speaker, Amran Gowani, calls advertising “the oldest profession.” Show him some love.

Amran: I want to start by saying: congratulations.

If you’re sitting here today, your school wasn’t shot up by a psychopath wielding an over-the-counter machine gun. Or, your school was shot up by a psychopath wielding an over-the-counter machine gun, but you had the grit, determination, self-reliance, and bootstrap-pulling ability to survive.

Either way, you made it to graduation day. In the richest country in the history of human civilization, that’s no small feat. Take a bow.

Now, I’ve been invited here to tell you ambitious, doe-eyed, young-and-eager-to-unfuck-the-planet whippersnappers about the one thing I wish I knew.

Truthfully, when I sat in your spot thirty-one long years ago, I wish I’d known a lot of things.

Unconditional love is a myth. Dreams don’t come true. Most people are trash. Crime does pay, actually. And, most importantly, while diamonds don’t last forever, herpes sure does.

Not what you wanted to hear, I know. I have a tendency to bring down a room. Every room, actually.

But, standing at this podium – with three ex-wives, two legitimate children, a foreclosed McMansion, repossessed Maserati, and one almost perfectly executed Ponzi scheme to my name – I’m thrilled for this opportunity to give back. To teach you youngsters how to avoid getting caught, and share the secret to living a joyful, fulfilling, purpose-driven life.

It’s not some bogus insight that’ll demystify the complexities of the human condition. Or a clever turn of phrase which doesn’t make sense when you stop and think about it. Or an inspirational story of perseverance that turns out to be another online influencer scam.

No, the magic elixir I speak of is tangible, and fungible.

It’s the most powerful substance in the known universe, and the only thing that can make your Marxist fantasies – like “solving” climate change and creating an “equitable” society – come true.

Cash.

I hear your parents’ boos, and I know what they’re thinking.

The Beatles said “…money can’t buy me love.” Nobel Prize-winning pop psychologist Daniel Kahneman “proved” money can’t buy happiness. And Succession was purposefully written to show the ultrarich are miserable cunts.

Problem is: that’s all bullshit.

If money didn’t buy lust and longevity, we wouldn’t have jobs. Kahneman’s “research” – economics isn’t real science by the way – turned out to be flawed. And if Succession’s writers had Succession money, they wouldn’t be Succession’s writers.

Ad hominem attacks? In front of your children? Wow. Worse still, it changes nothing.

Enjoy a round of golf? With enough petrodollars you can literally purchase the entire soulless, spineless enterprise.

Climate change got you down? Get yourself a plebe-proof, temperature-controlled bunker in New Zealand with the rest of God’s chosen people.

Want to indulge your most racist and transphobic impulses? Thanks to Citizens United, you can buy the Grand Old Party and recreate society in your own hateful image.

Another thing I wish I knew? The truth hurts.

When you reach middle-age, and your spouses and kids hate you, and pursuing your passions won’t even cover the interest on your student loans, just remember this speech.

Well, that’s it. I’d drop the mic, but it’s affixed to the bulletproof glass surrounding the podium.

Principal Scopes: Wh…why? I don’t understand what just happened.

Amran: If you’re so concerned about capitalism, and you don’t want your students to become hardened and cynical, then why’s the tuition fifty grand per year?

Principal Scopes: I…maybe you’re right. I can’t think about this right now. Who’s next?

Michael: Hold my beer. No for real. Can you hold my beer? Thanks.

Michael: One thing I wish I knew? That’s easy. I wish I knew everyone was lying to me. Everyone.

Example: when I was a kid, McDonald’s introduced the McRib. They said the McRib would only be available for a “limited time.” Naturally, I believed them. I went all in on that tangy, bony dream of a sandwich. I ate three McRib sandwiches a day, got a McRib tattoo on my butt, and even wrote to my Senators demanding a Constitutional Amendment to save the McRib. But guess what? It was all a lie, or what sophisticated people call “marketing.” For the next four decades those McLiars would cancel and resurrect the McRib countless times.

Here’s another obvious lie I should’ve caught. Fat-free half-and-half. Total bullshit. If both halves are fat-free, you’re just drinking non-fat milk. Also, non-fat milk is a lie. It’s just water with white food coloring.

Another lie? Online convenience fees. Everyone knows these fees are bullshit, but I’m old enough to remember a time, in the early days of the internet, when digital transactions were supposed to be cheaper, and those savings were going to show up in your wallet. But that was all a ruse to get us online, get us hooked, then nail us with “convenience fees.”

I get it. I sound like an old man, right? Well, you’ve probably heard some bullshit about how when you’re older, you’ll understand. Kids, that’s just not true. All my friends are old, and they’re just as clueless as they were when they were young. So if you’re thinking that you’ll figure things out when you grow up, you figured wrong. Sorry.

Actually, I just lied to you. I’m not sorry. Not at all.

Also, full disclosure: I might not even be real. Going in, they told us life was for real. But then they went and sprang that simulation mind-fuck on us. Is life real, or a simulation? Yes. Also, no.

Now, I realize that this is a graduation speech and that I’m supposed to say something inspirational, something that’ll make you want to get out there and make something of yourselves. Well, as someone steeped in the dark art of advertising, I’m not going to let you kids down. So here’s a lie I made up for your special day: you can do anything you set your mind to.

Congratulations, B. Siegel Academy Class of 2023! And good luck in junior high!

Principal Scopes: I’m not sure you guys get the culture here. Our mantra is “Trust and Heart.”

Michael: Who sold you that line of crap? Can you get a refund?

Dennard: Agreed. And it’s a motto. Religions have mantras. Brands have slogans. Schools without lunch platters for star guests have mottos.

Principal Scopes: They’re just kids. Leave them a little light. They can deal with cynicism later.

Dennard: Interesting. You guys do gifted classes?

Principal Scopes: We call them Thinking Caps. Less pressure.

Dennard: Cool. Consider this an advanced course.

Dennard: No applause? Perfect. That makes my point easier.

Hear that? Behind the lack of applause? Behind the nervous whispering up front, and crying in the back? Listen carefully. It’s louder than mic feedback. Even if I hit this speaker stack.

A demonstration. One sobbing student flees. Two others are led out of the room.

See? You can still hear it.

It’s Silence. I wish someone had told me.

I’ll put this in American terms. Ever thought you were hungry, but you were just bored? Be honest. Entire industries rely on that feeling. Companies list it as a taxable asset. I’ve written more ads about non-hunger than erectile dysfun—right, kids, sorry. I’ve written more ads about it than gun rights.

Let’s see hands.

I’ll wait. We can enjoy more feedback until then.

Thank you. As you can see, it’s a relatable problem.

There’s a romantic version. You think you’re lonely, but you’re just sad. Not the engaging, funeral lobby kind of sadness. Just…bored. Again.

A few amusing movements blame the death of Western masculinity, or spies putting soy in the water. Decent sci-fi, but it’s simpler than that. We think human hearts can distract each other. That love is louder than Silence.

Good news: it isn’t! Nothing is! Silence follows you forever.

That’s why I like mic feedback. It’s not louder than Silence, but there’s a nice numbing effect. Novocaine for ennui. It’s pretty much all I listen to, and much more effective than love. But this isn’t about me.

That gentle gnawing when you stop moving? The hollow echo after a meal, hug, or graduation? It’s just Silence. The universe’s natural state. It sounds a bit like death, so we don’t like it.

The upside? There’s nothing missing! You didn’t miss the boat. You didn’t fail. There’s no hourglass emptying above you. Just a humming hole in the world. Now you can live in peace, instead of marrying a classmate for a month and splitting up at a Dave & Buster’s ticket booth. You’re free!

Feel free to cheer.

You can waste decades rejecting Silence, or even wallowing in it. It makes Jagermeister, ad awards, revenge, booster packs, cruise ships, City Hall weddings, quote-tweeting Elon Musk, and living Trent Reznor lyrics all seem like sane ends in life. If nothing else, you get stories.

Or you can live. And accept that life has an itch.

That clarity is everything. Now you can think about what you actually want, without expecting it to fill the hole in your chest. And you’ll know what’s eating everyone else.

Want to be a decent, balanced person? Embrace Silence.

Want to be an effective, self-aware bastard? Embrace Silence.

Want to join the confused, desperate tangle of humanity? Forget I ever said this. Binge drink alone, marry three identical people, and work thirty-hour shifts for a plaque. And wonder, every morning, why something’s off.

Principal Scopes: Our school psychologist just resigned.

Amran: Snowflake.

Dennard: Of course. I did his job in less than six minutes, and better. Our fee just went up.

Michael: We take cash, checks, credit, Venmo, and Zelle. But don’t try that crypto shit like some other schools. We got burned when we spoke at Liberty University.

Principal Scopes: I’m not paying for this.

Dennard: Maybe. But the good taxpayers of LA are. I’ve got a contract and a lawyer with nothing else in his life.

Dennard: I couldn’t be prouder. This is our greatest triumph since our last triumph.

Michael: We crushed it. No lie.

Amran: Working with children is so rewarding. It’s like rocket fuel for the soul.

Dennard: Great art makes you feel. And that crowd was full of feeling. Lifelong, deep-seated feeling.

---

Thank you for your eyes. Extra thanks if you used them to read this. A third wave of thanks to Michael and Amran for both elite jokes and tolerating my “3 AM email” communication style.