“In a bacon-and-egg breakfast, the chicken is involved, but the pig is committed,” Billick said from the lectern at Hopkins’ lacrosse field. “Be that pig.”

Yes, The Bri is a master of metaphors. In the breakfast of life, you should be the fatty, salty mud-dweller who gets brutally slaughtered for the enjoyment of others. Ray Lewis can assist you if you’re having problems butchering yourself.

Commencement ceremonies are godawful. Mine, like all of them, took place on a 95 degree day and lasted eight hours while I nursed an absolutely brutal hangover. During senior week I got so drunk one night I passed out in the middle of a street in Portland, Maine. When I asked my friend the next morning how I got back to campus, all he said was, “I’m gonna fucking kill you.” He’s not really my friend anymore.

Our graduation speaker was Supreme Court Justice Stephen Breyer. BORING. I don’t remember a goddamn word he said. Just another fucking lawyer. But I know who I wish we’d gotten.

Fucking Harvard gets all the best speakers. Snobby little bitches.

Will Ferrell is my number one pick for this draft. The rules: Pick one speaker only, then wait ten choices until you make another. This can be a speaker from any point in history, and I offer you bonus points for sincerity. Also, if you’re late to the draft, TOUGH FUCKING SHIT. Don’t be one of those assholes who’s like, “Oh, I’m late. I’ll just take five people!” You’re gay if you do that.

UPDATE IN BOLD: NO FUCKING FICTIONAL CHARACTERS.