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bronco militia
06-08-2012, 07:02 AM
The Swellesley Report

Wellesley High grads told: “You’re not special”
By bbrown | Published: June 5, 2012
We’d been hearing good things over the weekend about Wellesley High School English teacher David McCullough, Jr.’s faculty speech to the Class of 2012 last Friday. Here it is, in its entirety, courtesy of Mr. McCullough:

Dr. Wong, Dr. Keough, Mrs. Novogroski, Ms. Curran, members of the board of education, family and friends of the graduates, ladies and gentlemen of the Wellesley High School class of 2012, for the privilege of speaking to you this afternoon, I am honored and grateful. Thank you.

So here we are… commencement… life’s great forward-looking ceremony. (And don’t say, “What about weddings?” Weddings are one-sided and insufficiently effective. Weddings are bride-centric pageantry. Other than conceding to a list of unreasonable demands, the groom just stands there. No stately, hey-everybody-look-at-me procession. No being given away. No identity-changing pronouncement. And can you imagine a television show dedicated to watching guys try on tuxedos? Their fathers sitting there misty-eyed with joy and disbelief, their brothers lurking in the corner muttering with envy. Left to men, weddings would be, after limits-testing procrastination, spontaneous, almost inadvertent… during halftime… on the way to the refrigerator. And then there’s the frequency of failure: statistics tell us half of you will get divorced. A winning percentage like that’ll get you last place in the American League East. The Baltimore Orioles do better than weddings.)

But this ceremony… commencement… a commencement works every time. From this day forward… truly… in sickness and in health, through financial fiascos, through midlife crises and passably attractive sales reps at trade shows in Cincinnati, through diminishing tolerance for annoyingness, through every difference, irreconcilable and otherwise, you will stay forever graduated from high school, you and your diploma as one, ‘til death do you part.

No, commencement is life’s great ceremonial beginning, with its own attendant and highly appropriate symbolism. Fitting, for example, for this auspicious rite of passage, is where we find ourselves this afternoon, the venue. Normally, I avoid clichés like the plague, wouldn’t touch them with a ten-foot pole, but here we are on a literal level playing field. That matters. That says something. And your ceremonial costume… shapeless, uniform, one-size-fits-all. Whether male or female, tall or short, scholar or slacker, spray-tanned prom queen or intergalactic X-Box assassin, each of you is dressed, you’ll notice, exactly the same. And your diploma… but for your name, exactly the same.

All of this is as it should be, because none of you is special.

You are not special. You are not exceptional.

Contrary to what your u9 soccer trophy suggests, your glowing seventh grade report card, despite every assurance of a certain corpulent purple dinosaur, that nice Mister Rogers and your batty Aunt Sylvia, no matter how often your maternal caped crusader has swooped in to save you… you’re nothing special.

Yes, you’ve been pampered, cosseted, doted upon, helmeted, bubble-wrapped. Yes, capable adults with other things to do have held you, kissed you, fed you, wiped your mouth, wiped your bottom, trained you, taught you, tutored you, coached you, listened to you, counseled you, encouraged you, consoled you and encouraged you again. You’ve been nudged, cajoled, wheedled and implored. You’ve been feted and fawned over and called sweetie pie. Yes, you have. And, certainly, we’ve been to your games, your plays, your recitals, your science fairs. Absolutely, smiles ignite when you walk into a room, and hundreds gasp with delight at your every tweet. Why, maybe you’ve even had your picture in the Townsman! [Editor’s upgrade: Or The Swellesley Report!] And now you’ve conquered high school… and, indisputably, here we all have gathered for you, the pride and joy of this fine community, the first to emerge from that magnificent new building…

But do not get the idea you’re anything special. Because you’re not.

The empirical evidence is everywhere, numbers even an English teacher can’t ignore. Newton, Natick, Nee… I am allowed to say Needham, yes? …that has to be two thousand high school graduates right there, give or take, and that’s just the neighborhood Ns. Across the country no fewer than 3.2 million seniors are graduating about now from more than 37,000 high schools. That’s 37,000 valedictorians… 37,000 class presidents… 92,000 harmonizing altos… 340,000 swaggering jocks… 2,185,967 pairs of Uggs. But why limit ourselves to high school? After all, you’re leaving it. So think about this: even if you’re one in a million, on a planet of 6.8 billion that means there are nearly 7,000 people just like you. Imagine standing somewhere over there on Washington Street on Marathon Monday and watching sixty-eight hundred yous go running by. And consider for a moment the bigger picture: your planet, I’ll remind you, is not the center of its solar system, your solar system is not the center of its galaxy, your galaxy is not the center of the universe. In fact, astrophysicists assure us the universe has no center; therefore, you cannot be it. Neither can Donald Trump… which someone should tell him… although that hair is quite a phenomenon.

“But, Dave,” you cry, “Walt Whitman tells me I’m my own version of perfection! Epictetus tells me I have the spark of Zeus!” And I don’t disagree. So that makes 6.8 billion examples of perfection, 6.8 billion sparks of Zeus. You see, if everyone is special, then no one is. If everyone gets a trophy, trophies become meaningless. In our unspoken but not so subtle Darwinian competition with one another–which springs, I think, from our fear of our own insignificance, a subset of our dread of mortality — we have of late, we Americans, to our detriment, come to love accolades more than genuine achievement. We have come to see them as the point — and we’re happy to compromise standards, or ignore reality, if we suspect that’s the quickest way, or only way, to have something to put on the mantelpiece, something to pose with, crow about, something with which to leverage ourselves into a better spot on the social totem pole. No longer is it how you play the game, no longer is it even whether you win or lose, or learn or grow, or enjoy yourself doing it… Now it’s “So what does this get me?” As a consequence, we cheapen worthy endeavors, and building a Guatemalan medical clinic becomes more about the application to Bowdoin than the well-being of Guatemalans. It’s an epidemic — and in its way, not even dear old Wellesley High is immune… one of the best of the 37,000 nationwide, Wellesley High School… where good is no longer good enough, where a B is the new C, and the midlevel curriculum is called Advanced College Placement. And I hope you caught me when I said “one of the best.” I said “one of the best” so we can feel better about ourselves, so we can bask in a little easy distinction, however vague and unverifiable, and count ourselves among the elite, whoever they might be, and enjoy a perceived leg up on the perceived competition. But the phrase defies logic. By definition there can be only one best. You’re it or you’re not.

If you’ve learned anything in your years here I hope it’s that education should be for, rather than material advantage, the exhilaration of learning. You’ve learned, too, I hope, as Sophocles assured us, that wisdom is the chief element of happiness. (Second is ice cream… just an fyi) I also hope you’ve learned enough to recognize how little you know… how little you know now… at the moment… for today is just the beginning. It’s where you go from here that matters.

As you commence, then, and before you scatter to the winds, I urge you to do whatever you do for no reason other than you love it and believe in its importance. Don’t bother with work you don’t believe in any more than you would a spouse you’re not crazy about, lest you too find yourself on the wrong side of a Baltimore Orioles comparison. Resist the easy comforts of complacency, the specious glitter of materialism, the narcotic paralysis of self-satisfaction. Be worthy of your advantages. And read… read all the time… read as a matter of principle, as a matter of self-respect. Read as a nourishing staple of life. Develop and protect a moral sensibility and demonstrate the character to apply it. Dream big. Work hard. Think for yourself. Love everything you love, everyone you love, with all your might. And do so, please, with a sense of urgency, for every tick of the clock subtracts from fewer and fewer; and as surely as there are commencements there are cessations, and you’ll be in no condition to enjoy the ceremony attendant to that eventuality no matter how delightful the afternoon.

The fulfilling life, the distinctive life, the relevant life, is an achievement, not something that will fall into your lap because you’re a nice person or mommy ordered it from the caterer. You’ll note the founding fathers took pains to secure your inalienable right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness–quite an active verb, “pursuit”–which leaves, I should think, little time for lying around watching parrots rollerskate on Youtube. The first President Roosevelt, the old rough rider, advocated the strenuous life. Mr. Thoreau wanted to drive life into a corner, to live deep and suck out all the marrow. The poet Mary Oliver tells us to row, row into the swirl and roil. Locally, someone… I forget who… from time to time encourages young scholars to carpe the heck out of the diem. The point is the same: get busy, have at it. Don’t wait for inspiration or passion to find you. Get up, get out, explore, find it yourself, and grab hold with both hands. (Now, before you dash off and get your YOLO tattoo, let me point out the illogic of that trendy little expression–because you can and should live not merely once, but every day of your life. Rather than You Only Live Once, it should be You Live Only Once… but because YLOO doesn’t have the same ring, we shrug and decide it doesn’t matter.)

None of this day-seizing, though, this YLOOing, should be interpreted as license for self-indulgence. Like accolades ought to be, the fulfilled life is a consequence, a gratifying byproduct. It’s what happens when you’re thinking about more important things. Climb the mountain not to plant your flag, but to embrace the challenge, enjoy the air and behold the view. Climb it so you can see the world, not so the world can see you. Go to Paris to be in Paris, not to cross it off your list and congratulate yourself for being worldly. Exercise free will and creative, independent thought not for the satisfactions they will bring you, but for the good they will do others, the rest of the 6.8 billion–and those who will follow them. And then you too will discover the great and curious truth of the human experience is that selflessness is the best thing you can do for yourself. The sweetest joys of life, then, come only with the recognition that you’re not special.

Because everyone is.

Congratulations. Good luck. Make for yourselves, please, for your sake and for ours, extraordinary lives.

David McCullough

http://www.theswellesleyreport.com/2012/06/wellesley-high-grads-told-youre-not-special/

alkemical
06-08-2012, 07:22 AM
Tyler Durden: Listen up, maggots. You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else.

Willynowei
06-08-2012, 07:28 AM
The Swellesley Report

Wellesley High grads told: “You’re not special”
By bbrown | Published: June 5, 2012
We’d been hearing good things over the weekend about Wellesley High School English teacher David McCullough, Jr.’s faculty speech to the Class of 2012 last Friday. Here it is, in its entirety, courtesy of Mr. McCullough:

Dr. Wong, Dr. Keough, Mrs. Novogroski, Ms. Curran, members of the board of education, family and friends of the graduates, ladies and gentlemen of the Wellesley High School class of 2012, for the privilege of speaking to you this afternoon, I am honored and grateful. Thank you.

So here we are… commencement… life’s great forward-looking ceremony. (And don’t say, “What about weddings?” Weddings are one-sided and insufficiently effective. Weddings are bride-centric pageantry. Other than conceding to a list of unreasonable demands, the groom just stands there. No stately, hey-everybody-look-at-me procession. No being given away. No identity-changing pronouncement. And can you imagine a television show dedicated to watching guys try on tuxedos? Their fathers sitting there misty-eyed with joy and disbelief, their brothers lurking in the corner muttering with envy. Left to men, weddings would be, after limits-testing procrastination, spontaneous, almost inadvertent… during halftime… on the way to the refrigerator. And then there’s the frequency of failure: statistics tell us half of you will get divorced. A winning percentage like that’ll get you last place in the American League East. The Baltimore Orioles do better than weddings.)

But this ceremony… commencement… a commencement works every time. From this day forward… truly… in sickness and in health, through financial fiascos, through midlife crises and passably attractive sales reps at trade shows in Cincinnati, through diminishing tolerance for annoyingness, through every difference, irreconcilable and otherwise, you will stay forever graduated from high school, you and your diploma as one, ‘til death do you part.

No, commencement is life’s great ceremonial beginning, with its own attendant and highly appropriate symbolism. Fitting, for example, for this auspicious rite of passage, is where we find ourselves this afternoon, the venue. Normally, I avoid clichés like the plague, wouldn’t touch them with a ten-foot pole, but here we are on a literal level playing field. That matters. That says something. And your ceremonial costume… shapeless, uniform, one-size-fits-all. Whether male or female, tall or short, scholar or slacker, spray-tanned prom queen or intergalactic X-Box assassin, each of you is dressed, you’ll notice, exactly the same. And your diploma… but for your name, exactly the same.

All of this is as it should be, because none of you is special.

You are not special. You are not exceptional.

Contrary to what your u9 soccer trophy suggests, your glowing seventh grade report card, despite every assurance of a certain corpulent purple dinosaur, that nice Mister Rogers and your batty Aunt Sylvia, no matter how often your maternal caped crusader has swooped in to save you… you’re nothing special.

Yes, you’ve been pampered, cosseted, doted upon, helmeted, bubble-wrapped. Yes, capable adults with other things to do have held you, kissed you, fed you, wiped your mouth, wiped your bottom, trained you, taught you, tutored you, coached you, listened to you, counseled you, encouraged you, consoled you and encouraged you again. You’ve been nudged, cajoled, wheedled and implored. You’ve been feted and fawned over and called sweetie pie. Yes, you have. And, certainly, we’ve been to your games, your plays, your recitals, your science fairs. Absolutely, smiles ignite when you walk into a room, and hundreds gasp with delight at your every tweet. Why, maybe you’ve even had your picture in the Townsman! [Editor’s upgrade: Or The Swellesley Report!] And now you’ve conquered high school… and, indisputably, here we all have gathered for you, the pride and joy of this fine community, the first to emerge from that magnificent new building…

But do not get the idea you’re anything special. Because you’re not.

The empirical evidence is everywhere, numbers even an English teacher can’t ignore. Newton, Natick, Nee… I am allowed to say Needham, yes? …that has to be two thousand high school graduates right there, give or take, and that’s just the neighborhood Ns. Across the country no fewer than 3.2 million seniors are graduating about now from more than 37,000 high schools. That’s 37,000 valedictorians… 37,000 class presidents… 92,000 harmonizing altos… 340,000 swaggering jocks… 2,185,967 pairs of Uggs. But why limit ourselves to high school? After all, you’re leaving it. So think about this: even if you’re one in a million, on a planet of 6.8 billion that means there are nearly 7,000 people just like you. Imagine standing somewhere over there on Washington Street on Marathon Monday and watching sixty-eight hundred yous go running by. And consider for a moment the bigger picture: your planet, I’ll remind you, is not the center of its solar system, your solar system is not the center of its galaxy, your galaxy is not the center of the universe. In fact, astrophysicists assure us the universe has no center; therefore, you cannot be it. Neither can Donald Trump… which someone should tell him… although that hair is quite a phenomenon.

“But, Dave,” you cry, “Walt Whitman tells me I’m my own version of perfection! Epictetus tells me I have the spark of Zeus!” And I don’t disagree. So that makes 6.8 billion examples of perfection, 6.8 billion sparks of Zeus. You see, if everyone is special, then no one is. If everyone gets a trophy, trophies become meaningless. In our unspoken but not so subtle Darwinian competition with one another–which springs, I think, from our fear of our own insignificance, a subset of our dread of mortality — we have of late, we Americans, to our detriment, come to love accolades more than genuine achievement. We have come to see them as the point — and we’re happy to compromise standards, or ignore reality, if we suspect that’s the quickest way, or only way, to have something to put on the mantelpiece, something to pose with, crow about, something with which to leverage ourselves into a better spot on the social totem pole. No longer is it how you play the game, no longer is it even whether you win or lose, or learn or grow, or enjoy yourself doing it… Now it’s “So what does this get me?” As a consequence, we cheapen worthy endeavors, and building a Guatemalan medical clinic becomes more about the application to Bowdoin than the well-being of Guatemalans. It’s an epidemic — and in its way, not even dear old Wellesley High is immune… one of the best of the 37,000 nationwide, Wellesley High School… where good is no longer good enough, where a B is the new C, and the midlevel curriculum is called Advanced College Placement. And I hope you caught me when I said “one of the best.” I said “one of the best” so we can feel better about ourselves, so we can bask in a little easy distinction, however vague and unverifiable, and count ourselves among the elite, whoever they might be, and enjoy a perceived leg up on the perceived competition. But the phrase defies logic. By definition there can be only one best. You’re it or you’re not.

If you’ve learned anything in your years here I hope it’s that education should be for, rather than material advantage, the exhilaration of learning. You’ve learned, too, I hope, as Sophocles assured us, that wisdom is the chief element of happiness. (Second is ice cream… just an fyi) I also hope you’ve learned enough to recognize how little you know… how little you know now… at the moment… for today is just the beginning. It’s where you go from here that matters.

As you commence, then, and before you scatter to the winds, I urge you to do whatever you do for no reason other than you love it and believe in its importance. Don’t bother with work you don’t believe in any more than you would a spouse you’re not crazy about, lest you too find yourself on the wrong side of a Baltimore Orioles comparison. Resist the easy comforts of complacency, the specious glitter of materialism, the narcotic paralysis of self-satisfaction. Be worthy of your advantages. And read… read all the time… read as a matter of principle, as a matter of self-respect. Read as a nourishing staple of life. Develop and protect a moral sensibility and demonstrate the character to apply it. Dream big. Work hard. Think for yourself. Love everything you love, everyone you love, with all your might. And do so, please, with a sense of urgency, for every tick of the clock subtracts from fewer and fewer; and as surely as there are commencements there are cessations, and you’ll be in no condition to enjoy the ceremony attendant to that eventuality no matter how delightful the afternoon.

The fulfilling life, the distinctive life, the relevant life, is an achievement, not something that will fall into your lap because you’re a nice person or mommy ordered it from the caterer. You’ll note the founding fathers took pains to secure your inalienable right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness–quite an active verb, “pursuit”–which leaves, I should think, little time for lying around watching parrots rollerskate on Youtube. The first President Roosevelt, the old rough rider, advocated the strenuous life. Mr. Thoreau wanted to drive life into a corner, to live deep and suck out all the marrow. The poet Mary Oliver tells us to row, row into the swirl and roil. Locally, someone… I forget who… from time to time encourages young scholars to carpe the heck out of the diem. The point is the same: get busy, have at it. Don’t wait for inspiration or passion to find you. Get up, get out, explore, find it yourself, and grab hold with both hands. (Now, before you dash off and get your YOLO tattoo, let me point out the illogic of that trendy little expression–because you can and should live not merely once, but every day of your life. Rather than You Only Live Once, it should be You Live Only Once… but because YLOO doesn’t have the same ring, we shrug and decide it doesn’t matter.)

None of this day-seizing, though, this YLOOing, should be interpreted as license for self-indulgence. Like accolades ought to be, the fulfilled life is a consequence, a gratifying byproduct. It’s what happens when you’re thinking about more important things. Climb the mountain not to plant your flag, but to embrace the challenge, enjoy the air and behold the view. Climb it so you can see the world, not so the world can see you. Go to Paris to be in Paris, not to cross it off your list and congratulate yourself for being worldly. Exercise free will and creative, independent thought not for the satisfactions they will bring you, but for the good they will do others, the rest of the 6.8 billion–and those who will follow them. And then you too will discover the great and curious truth of the human experience is that selflessness is the best thing you can do for yourself. The sweetest joys of life, then, come only with the recognition that you’re not special.

Because everyone is.

Congratulations. Good luck. Make for yourselves, please, for your sake and for ours, extraordinary lives.

David McCullough

http://www.theswellesleyreport.com/2012/06/wellesley-high-grads-told-youre-not-special/

Okay....

Steve Sewell
06-08-2012, 07:29 AM
What an incredible commencement speech. Words of wisdom that anyone can live by.

Steve Sewell
06-08-2012, 07:32 AM
Okay....

We're in offseason mode.

Beantown Bronco
06-08-2012, 07:41 AM
Okay....

It's a good thing you quoted the whole thing. Your response wouldn't have made sense otherwise. :)

Rohirrim
06-08-2012, 07:50 AM
Translation of what the high schoolers in the audience heard: blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.... etc. while thinking: "When do I get to bury my face in Debbie's boobies again?"... and, "I wonder if I'm getting any texts from Debbie?"

Johnykbr
06-08-2012, 08:18 AM
Translation of what the high schoolers in the audience heard: blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.... etc. while thinking: "When do I get to bury my face in Debbie's boobies again?"... and, "I wonder if I'm getting any texts from Debbie?"

I think it was "Does this mean I have to change my YOLO tattoo?"

brncs_fan
06-08-2012, 08:20 AM
I want to know wtf this guy has against roller skating parrots?

Dukes
06-08-2012, 08:45 AM
Translation of what the high schoolers in the audience heard: blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.... etc. while thinking: "When do I get to bury my face in Debbie's boobies again?"... and, "I wonder if I'm getting any texts from Debbie?"

You just aged yourself by thinking any teenager these days is actually named "Debbie".

baja
06-08-2012, 09:00 AM
is there a longer version?

Kaylore
06-08-2012, 09:04 AM
Is there a naked version?

baja
06-08-2012, 09:05 AM
It's called Debbie does Dallas

Kaylore
06-08-2012, 09:08 AM
It's called Debbie does Dallas

Then Dukes is correct since that's from the 70's.

baja
06-08-2012, 09:11 AM
The article could have been shortened to "You are dirt. That is all, carry on".

maher_tyler
06-08-2012, 09:22 AM
Good read, thanks for posting.

bronco militia
06-08-2012, 09:30 AM
The article could have been shortened to "You are dirt. That is all, carry on".

interesting...this is the part that made me think of some of your threads/post over the years.:


The fulfilling life, the distinctive life, the relevant life, is an achievement, not something that will fall into your lap because you’re a nice person or mommy ordered it from the caterer. You’ll note the founding fathers took pains to secure your inalienable right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness–quite an active verb, “pursuit”–which leaves, I should think, little time for lying around watching parrots rollerskate on Youtube. The first President Roosevelt, the old rough rider, advocated the strenuous life. Mr. Thoreau wanted to drive life into a corner, to live deep and suck out all the marrow. The poet Mary Oliver tells us to row, row into the swirl and roil. Locally, someone… I forget who… from time to time encourages young scholars to carpe the heck out of the diem. The point is the same: get busy, have at it. Don’t wait for inspiration or passion to find you. Get up, get out, explore, find it yourself, and grab hold with both hands. (Now, before you dash off and get your YOLO tattoo, let me point out the illogic of that trendy little expression–because you can and should live not merely once, but every day of your life. Rather than You Only Live Once, it should be You Live Only Once… but because YLOO doesn’t have the same ring, we shrug and decide it doesn’t matter.)

None of this day-seizing, though, this YLOOing, should be interpreted as license for self-indulgence. Like accolades ought to be, the fulfilled life is a consequence, a gratifying byproduct. It’s what happens when you’re thinking about more important things. Climb the mountain not to plant your flag, but to embrace the challenge, enjoy the air and behold the view. Climb it so you can see the world, not so the world can see you. Go to Paris to be in Paris, not to cross it off your list and congratulate yourself for being worldly. Exercise free will and creative, independent thought not for the satisfactions they will bring you, but for the good they will do others, the rest of the 6.8 billion–and those who will follow them. And then you too will discover the great and curious truth of the human experience is that selflessness is the best thing you can do for yourself. The sweetest joys of life, then, come only with the recognition that you’re not special.

DenverBroncosJM
06-08-2012, 09:31 AM
I guess I am in the minority, I thought it was great.

alkemical
06-08-2012, 09:34 AM
The article could have been shortened to "You are dirt. That is all, carry on".

Tyler Durden: Listen up, maggots. You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You're the same decaying organic matter as everything else.

..

baja
06-08-2012, 09:37 AM
interesting...this is the part that made me think of some of your threads/post over the years.:


The fulfilling life, the distinctive life, the relevant life, is an achievement, not something that will fall into your lap because you’re a nice person or mommy ordered it from the caterer. You’ll note the founding fathers took pains to secure your inalienable right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness–quite an active verb, “pursuit”–which leaves, I should think, little time for lying around watching parrots rollerskate on Youtube. The first President Roosevelt, the old rough rider, advocated the strenuous life. Mr. Thoreau wanted to drive life into a corner, to live deep and suck out all the marrow. The poet Mary Oliver tells us to row, row into the swirl and roil. Locally, someone… I forget who… from time to time encourages young scholars to carpe the heck out of the diem. The point is the same: get busy, have at it. Don’t wait for inspiration or passion to find you. Get up, get out, explore, find it yourself, and grab hold with both hands. (Now, before you dash off and get your YOLO tattoo, let me point out the illogic of that trendy little expression–because you can and should live not merely once, but every day of your life. Rather than You Only Live Once, it should be You Live Only Once… but because YLOO doesn’t have the same ring, we shrug and decide it doesn’t matter.)

None of this day-seizing, though, this YLOOing, should be interpreted as license for self-indulgence. Like accolades ought to be, the fulfilled life is a consequence, a gratifying byproduct. It’s what happens when you’re thinking about more important things. Climb the mountain not to plant your flag, but to embrace the challenge, enjoy the air and behold the view. Climb it so you can see the world, not so the world can see you. Go to Paris to be in Paris, not to cross it off your list and congratulate yourself for being worldly. Exercise free will and creative, independent thought not for the satisfactions they will bring you, but for the good they will do others, the rest of the 6.8 billion–and those who will follow them. And then you too will discover the great and curious truth of the human experience is that selflessness is the best thing you can do for yourself. The sweetest joys of life, then, come only with the recognition that you’re not special.

OK I have a confession to make. I found it difficult to get through and only read about half before my eyes glazed over. Glad it has inspired some.

bronco militia
06-08-2012, 09:38 AM
..

the part I quoted for baja goes for you too...

bronco militia
06-08-2012, 09:39 AM
OK I have a confession to make. I found it difficult to get through and only read about half before my eyes glazed over. Glad it has inspired some.

LOL....oh the irony

alkemical
06-08-2012, 09:40 AM
the part I quoted for baja goes for you too...

I didn't have a problem with it - i just let Tyler summerize it. :)

It shouldn't be directed @ me - i'm living the dream boss*.

baja
06-08-2012, 09:41 AM
LOL....oh the irony

Be nice now. Everyone is having a day unique to them. I found the article over written and I was focused on something else. Glad you liked it though. ;D

baja
06-08-2012, 09:42 AM
"Seize the Day' would have covered it.

bronco militia
06-08-2012, 09:43 AM
I didn't have a problem with it - i just let Tyler summerize it. :)

that's cool. :flower:

alkemical
06-08-2012, 09:45 AM
that's cool. :flower:

1st rule.

bronco militia
06-08-2012, 10:44 AM
Be nice now. Everyone is having a day unique to them. I found the article over written and I was focused on something else. Glad you liked it though. ;D

at least you're honest that you didn't read the speech

lmao! Ok I'll be nice. I'm done

ROFL!

baja
06-08-2012, 11:04 AM
I labored through the first half and read the part you quoted.

I agree the last couple of generations were pampered and spoiled.

I was raised a Catholic and was told every day I was a rotten no good sinner that caused Jesus to die a horrible death to pre pay for my sins but if I gave money weekly to the church they would get my ticket punched into heaven.:believeit

SouthStndJunkie
06-08-2012, 11:05 AM
at least you're honest that you didn't read the speech

lmao! Ok I'll be nice. I'm done

ROFL!

Damn it, militia.

Your butthole is not special. It is not exceptional.

bronco militia
06-08-2012, 11:07 AM
Damn it, militia.

Your butthole is not special. It is not exceptional.

LOL

wrong message board, fag

SouthStndJunkie
06-08-2012, 11:09 AM
LOL

wrong message board, fag

Sorry....I thought this was: gapingeyetallyunbuttholes.com/thesprings/militia.

Meck77
06-08-2012, 11:15 AM
I labored through the first half and read the part you quoted.

I agree the last couple of generations were pampered and spoiled.

I was raised a Catholic and was told every day I was a rotten no good sinner that caused Jesus to die a horrible death to pre pay for my sins but if I gave money weekly to the church they would get my ticket punched into heaven.:believeit

I I I I I I I......

It's officially another baja thread. He's special.

bronco militia
06-08-2012, 11:16 AM
Sorry....I thought this was: gapingeyetallyunbuttholes.com/thesprings/militia.

no wonder you are lost

try thesouthstands.com/junkielikesitintheass.

ColoradoDarin
06-08-2012, 11:19 AM
I I I I I I I......

It's officially another baja thread. He's special.

baja has finally gone full mock on us

SouthStndJunkie
06-08-2012, 11:21 AM
no wonder you are lost

try thesouthstands.com/junkielikesitintheass.

I'm not the one with the Italian video on youtube.

All my videos are on youporn.

bronco militia
06-08-2012, 11:22 AM
I'm not the one with the Italian video on youtube.

All my videos are on youporn.

I'm still in the closet, you b****!

:cuss:

alkemical
06-08-2012, 11:24 AM
I'm still in the closet, you b****!

:cuss:

bring out the gimp!!!!

LOL@ Militia & junkie - at first i wasn't sure which BB i was on. :)

baja
06-08-2012, 11:27 AM
I I I I I I I......

It's officially another baja thread. He's special.

I tickles me that I'm am in your head given I never think about you.

The ten thousand rep comments are amusing too.

Evenrude
06-08-2012, 11:28 AM
QFT: Climb the mountain not to plant your flag, but to embrace the challenge, enjoy the air and behold the view. Climb it so you can see the world, not so the world can see you. Go to Paris to be in Paris, not to cross it off your list and congratulate yourself for being worldly

bronco militia
06-08-2012, 11:29 AM
bring out the gimp!!!!

LOL@ Militia & junkie - at first i wasn't sure which BB i was on. :)

no doubt...another failed attempt at an adult discussion.

Hilarious!Hilarious!

alkemical
06-08-2012, 11:29 AM
QFT: Climb the mountain not to plant your flag, but to embrace the challenge, enjoy the air and behold the view. Climb it so you can see the world, not so the world can see you. Go to Paris to be in Paris, not to cross it off your list and congratulate yourself for being worldly

Don't drink to get drunk, drink because you like drinking!

alkemical
06-08-2012, 11:30 AM
no doubt...another failed attempt at an adult discussion.

Hilarious!Hilarious!

I read that as "adult dissection" -

i think i need a vacation..would you please stand on the plastic?

Meck77
06-08-2012, 11:36 AM
I tickles me that I'm am in your head given I never think about you.

The ten thousand rep comments are amusing too.

48,000 posts about you. Over 60 on another dudes thread about his wife problems. You are special. :kiss:

baja
06-08-2012, 11:36 AM
I I I I I I I......

It's officially another baja thread. He's special.

BTW that beach in your avatar is in Baja are you sure your head is attached to those ugly feet of yours?

Reading your posts it doesn't seem like it.


Let me know when I reach Eye Patch status of owning you. I could use the money. What will you pay me to leave anyway?

LOL @ you paying a guy to not post because he had you pegged and you were afraid he would further expose your phony ass to all.

bronco militia
06-08-2012, 11:36 AM
I read that as "adult dissection" -

i think i need a vacation..would you please stand on the plastic?

http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTeZbCr4BqHix92Jq0lrXpUw2NzPsNvJ-vJ7OxGwpAfGrgt2m831j_pfZNy2Q

Jay3
06-08-2012, 02:49 PM
That thing was a pretty close approximation of my worldview, if you throw in belief in God.

Victor
06-08-2012, 03:51 PM
That was really good...I'm guessing that half the crowd wanted to beat him up and the other half wanted to carry him around on their shoulders. Smart man.

delany
06-08-2012, 06:00 PM
If the speaker would have been from a Fourth World country. Or performed sun gazing instead of eating. Or believed in the complete downfall of America. Or used nettie pots every day. Or published 1,000+ pages of incoherant ramblings on some website. I am convinced that Baja would have found it more interesting.

Truth and insight can come from many different places. Including mainstream America. Too bad that Baja mentally checked out on that a long time ago.

Broncoman13
06-08-2012, 10:54 PM
Awesome!

Bacchus
06-08-2012, 11:00 PM
why didn't anyone post the video?

<iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/n5p5nufi7EY" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>

really a tremendous speech.

Bacchus
06-08-2012, 11:02 PM
That was really good...I'm guessing that half the crowd wanted to beat him up and the other half wanted to carry him around on their shoulders. Smart man.

No, the crowd ate it up. Everyone saw it was a wonderful speech.