Dearest Readers,
I have some bad news for you. Are you sitting down? Good. OK. Brace yourself.
I’m graduating.
For those of you who didn’t just have a three-way heart attack, embolism, and third degree pants-crapping, you probably don’t know who I am. Perhaps you thought that Daniel Brady was merely a legend, like Johnny Appleseed, Larry Bird, or evolution. No, I am as real as the solid gold that flows through my veins. For those of you not familiar with my name then maybe you’re more familiar with my achievements, like balancing the ASUC budget last year by shooting down that blimp. Many of you were surprised that the resulting explosion cured cancer, but I wasn’t. Or maybe you know me as the inventor of the Time Machine/Unfoggable Shower Mirror.
Some of the more sycophantic of you might endlessly ask, while sobbing and cursing God, why I am leaving you. The fact is that I have outgrown the academic capabilities of this university and am moving on to MIT, the Moon Institute of Technology, to get a PhD in Rocket Surgery. In my spare time I will work my neck out endlessly at the gym so that it may one day support the weight of all my future medals.
And though my immeasurable intellect (42 scientists died when the measuring computer became violently jealous and exploded) is capable of remembering all your names, I choose not to, especially the men and women I have left heavy with child. You will not see me again, for I have chosen not to attend the Commencement, where my mere name would cause thousands of broken wrists from the furious clapping. Even though I would enjoy watching you, my friends, celebrate my accomplishment of graduating Magna Cum Awesome, I will be otherwise occupied naming all the new colors I’ve discovered in the last ten seconds.
I’ll see you all again at the end of your lives, where I will weigh your achievements against mine to determine if you may enter my Eternal Kingdom.
Until Then,
Daniel Brady
