Some days, you open up your mailbox and treasure falls from the goddamn sky. Today is one such day. A reader who prefers to remain anonymous forwarded along to us what is arguably the douchiest email I’ve ever had the joy of reading. I don’t think I need to tell you that the author of this email went to Holy Cross. If you’re well off and you’ve got an insanely overstated sense of self-awesomeness, HOLY CRAWSS IS YAR FACKIN’ SCHOOL! Let’s dive in, shall we?

The author of this email decided to send this missive out to his “friends” in the Holy Cross Class of 2009, in no small part because THEY WERE NOT GETTING IT FUCKING DONE to his satisfaction. Read on…

Boys (and girls),

I write this email from a desk and cubicle just 20 miles down Interstate 290 from you guys, yet my current life is worlds and worlds apart from yours.. A lot has happened to push me to write this email, both recently and a long time ago, but regardless, I think this is all very important stuff for you to hear. Some of you may know me personally, some of you may recognize my name, and some of you just might think I’m some asshole who used to get way to drunk and inappropriate way too often. For those of you who fit in to the latter category – You’re welcome.

FOR THOSE OF YOU FACKIN’ FACKS WHO COULD NAWT HANDLE JUST HOW FACKIN’ BALL-RAWKIN’ I WAS AT SCHOOL, YOU CAN TAKE IT AND SHOVE IT UP YAR GAWDDAMN CAWKHOLE!

I did a lot of shit in my days up on Mount St. James, not going to lie, never would. Drank a lot of beers, guilty. Had some regrettable run-ins with the opposite sex, guilty. Experimented with some performance enhancing mechanisms, guilty.

I’m assuming by performance enhancing mechanism he means some sort of illegally tricked-out Nautilus machine. LOOK AT MY FACKIN’ QUADS!

Said some inappropriate and out of line things to a lot of people, guilty. But, and most importantly, had the time of my life – guilty.

Date raped a girl or six, guilty.

People always are asking me, do you miss college, don’t you wish you could go back to college, man, wasn’t college so much better than this. And, quite frankly, I have to be honest – I have to disagree on many levels with these people, and that is the lesson I want to teach you guys right now, really – before it is too late.

The reason I am not going through “college withdrawals” like many people in the real world are today, is pretty simple. I left it all on the field.

NO ONE PAHHHTIED HAHHDAH!

To be truthful, I think if I had stayed in college in the same lifestyle, I probably would have died in about another month or so. No, seriously, I think I was about a month away from dying the day I walked across the stage and got my diploma. And I must say, that was a great fucking feeling.

So true. Who hasn’t enjoyed nearly dying?

No, not getting my diploma, that was cool but whatever – I’m talking about the feeling of pushing my body to it’s limits through alcohol consumption, drug use, and blatant disregard for everything that society deems “Normal”.

CAN’T WAIT FOR THE MOVIE VERSION OF I HOPE THEY SERVE BEER IN HELL! TOTALLY GONNA RAWK!

I’m talking about sitting down for breakfast with my grandmother on mothers day and chugging my orange juice and skim milk because that is the only way I was use to drinking at that point in the school year.

This guy don’t need no instructions about how to chug. HE DRINKS MILK MORE-AH HAHHDCORE-AH THAN YOU DO!

(She’s a recovered alcoholic so you can imagine how happy she was to see her oldest grandson in such a great state of mind). I’m talking about explaining to your parents why the Buick you bought from them a year before in mint condition is missing both mirrors, the front bumper is hanging on by hockey laces, the two side panels look like someone took an aluminum bat to them, and the only reason the trunk is staying closed is because a whole roll of duct tape is holding it closed from the inside. I’m talking about waking up on a fucking porch on a Monday in a totally different part of Worcester then your last memory from Sunday night. I’m talking about getting kicked out of a fucking bar FOR LIFE and sneaking back in by tucking your terrible haircut back in to your hat just a week later. I’m talking about smoking enough Marlboro Red 100s to kill a large horse or a small Asian family. THAT’S WHAT THE FUCK IM TALKING ABOUT.

YEAH BABY! I’M TAWKING ABOUT BEING A COMPLETE AND UTTAH CAWKSOCKET!

I need you to pay attention and listen to me. Of course you can continue to party and booze and make a fool out of yourself after college, fuck most people are still doing it, just ask [name redacted]. But my whole feeling is, the only time this is really celebrated and actually looked at as a positive thing is in the four years between the day you move in to the freshman dorm and the day you walk across the stage and get your diploma from McFarland. It is so important that in the next 2 months, you guys go out every single day and really give it your fucking all out there. I’m not talking about Thursday, Friday, Saturday. Fuck that. My mother goes out Thursday, Friday and fucking Saturday.

And you should see some of the guys that plow her. You’d think they commissioned a second Big Dig.

Those all go with out saying. I’m talking about really, honestly and completely getting THE FUCK after it for the next 2 months. You have the rest of your life to be “normal” and to be a “good person” and to be a “Contributing member of society”, please do not waste your time on this trivial bull shit in the next two months – worry about that in fucking june please.

You guys need to understand something. This is not a fucking dress rehearsal.

THIS IS FAR REAL! WITH BEER PONG AND EVERYTHING! THIS IS WHAT YOU TRAINED FAHHH!

You don’t get your diploma in two months and then get to start over in the Mulledy basement and get a second shot at being great. That’s not how it works, trust me – I tried.

Oh, I bet you did, O’Bannion.

I can look any person out there in the eye and truthfully and honestly say, I have NO regrets when it comes to college. NONE. Sure there are some girls out there who may say they regret meeting me, I definitely do not doubt that for a second.

When you wake up with bruises on your ass and bite marks on your cheeks, that does tend to happen.

And I’m sure there some geeks and dickheads out there who didn’t really appreciate my candid nature when telling someone how I felt about them.

I knew I’d seen this guy’s writing before.

But FUCK them, if they cant take a joke, seriously. You guys need to lose the fucking inhibitions, stop caring what people are going to think about you or say about you – fuck them. If you don’t go out as hard as humanly possible in the next 2 months – then you’re a big fucking loser. I’m trying to be honest with you guys, I really am. I think anyone on this email that knows me will back up everything I have said so far about myself. I really went the last year of college with zero cares for anyone else other than getting as fucked up as humanly possible. Literally. Now, look at me. I’ve got a job and all that bullshit.

I’m a winner!

But who fucking cares, the most important thing, for me, is that I know that in my four years of college I achieved great things. Not fucking grades, or academic experience, or culture or fucking diversity. I fucking partied like an absolute fucking rock star. That’s all I can think of when I think of college. Rock star.

So boys and girls, I hope you really head my words today. It’s 6:30pm, its gorgeous out, and I’m at my office. Love my job, really do. But where would I be 12 months ago? I’d be on my 12th Twisted tea…

The Twisted Tea part was when I lost it. Keith Richards is in fucking AWE of this man.

…my 19th Marlboro Red, and my 6th Adderoll.

Yeah, but I heard Matt Stafford did eight Adderoll at the combine.

What does that mean now? It just makes the fact that I am sitting in an office right now that much easier of a pill to swallow. I did it all, and I left it all 20 miles down the road on Mount St. James. I don’t mind waking up at 6am now, even though last year that is about the time I would finally get to the Cambridge apartment to pass out on the bean bag. I don’t mind spending Tuesday nights at home with my parents when last year I was putting my head under the fucking taps at the campus pub.

So remember, gang: be hardcore all through college and you too can live in Worcester with your folks. Rock star. That’s all I can think.

But if I hadn’t really put it all on the line, I don’t know if I’d be able to deal with all the bullshit I have to do now, I really don’t. That is why I wrote this email. To make you guys understand what is really on the line these next two months. Please, do it for me, go out there and get it FUCKING DONE.

I would expect nothing less from the senior class of 2009, I really wouldn’t.

Now, put everything aside and really think about what I’ve had to say. You guys need to focus and really get this done, above all else. I mean, you guys are pretty fucked in this economy anyways, seriously.

Sincerely and from the bottom of My Heart
[name redacted] Holy Cross Class of 2008

But WAIT! It gets even better. Because here’s a picture of our little Captain Badass…

That’s a good look there, fella. I bet all the girls creamed their jeans whenever they saw you and JackO playing hallway baseball.