“Don’t sweat the small stuff. And it’s all small stuff.”
You kids all sweat the small stuff. This college deserves a better class of students. And I’m gonna help you to give it to them. William Wallace would be ashamed of all of you. You’ve given up your freedom for good grades and high-paying jobs.
You all only have 12 free hours a week to do what you want to do—what you really want to do. When your grades and stresses from the week fade into the darkness and you become children again. Extremely intoxicated children.
The hours I’m talking about are from 10 p.m. to 2 p.m. Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights. The rest of the time, you do your work, get overly stressed about papers and tests that have little to do with your actual lives and are pretty depressed, considering how well-off you are.
With all of your privileges, this is the extent of your happiness? Twelve hours a week? I’m more well-known for my cosmetology than I am for my math prowess, but that looks like 1/14 of the week. That’s 7 percent. Is that really worth it? Let’s talk.
We clearly need to get you guys back up to at least 40 percent. When I was in college, week in and week out I was working at around 100 percent, sometimes cracking 120 percent. You know who else always gives more than 100 percent? A certain golfer I used to watch. That’s why he could give 100 percent to his wife and have some left over for extracurricular activity.
“But Mr. Joker, your college was probably easy. You probably didn’t have these brilliant students of other ethnicities who ruined the curves!” Maybe you’re right, but my college was easy because we made it easy. There’s an unspoken rule at state schools: No one tries, everyone gets wasted. It’s a great system.
We had LDOC, but we also had FDOC and SDOC and TDOC and every other DOC you can imagine; well, there was no petite, monocled miner who helped save Snow White. No matter, each DOC was the same, just not always free T-shirts. And look at the success I’ve become! I’ve lit more cash on fire than any of your families can ever imagine even seeing.
Here’s the challenge. Take a chill pill. If you still feel uptight, take another. If after two, you still feel uptight, don’t take another because three causes an overdose. Instead, you may wanna try some “alternative” energy sources. They’ll have you breathing free and easy for days straight. It’ll work, trust me. I didn’t get 120 percent fun-efficiency by playing hop skotch with the dean.
After you’ve chilled a bit, pre-game your next class. Hell, just turn your lecture into the game. Whenever someone asks a question to show off their self-perceived brilliance, drink. If someone asks a question about homework due in over ten hours, drink. If someone cries about their grade, drink. If someone’s taking notes, drink.
But you don’t have to use drugs and alcohol to have a good time. I mean, it’s not absolutely essential. The only thing is, if you’re trying to light a fire, why rub two sticks together when you can use lighter fluid?
What you really need to do is first realize that nothing is serious and that creativity makes the world go round. Use your imagination to do some crazy shenanigans. You don’t need alcohol, but if it involves alcohol, hey, you’re 21 and are from Alaska, right? You don’t need rope, but if you’re setting up a zipline across Main West, get you some rope.
Stop all this nonsense about finding careers. Realize you’re a kid. Have some fun. Trip somebody. Bonus points if it’s a dean. Mess with tour groups. Show people why Duke is better than other colleges they visited. Accidentally take people’s towels out of the bathroom. Don’t be a dividual, be an individual. Be the most interesting person you know. Make people hang on your every word… even the prepositions.
The Joker guesses he’ll have to play Pagliacci and get himself a clown’s disguise.
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