-If your child majored in fi ne arts or philosophy, you have good reason to be worried. The only place where they are now really qualifi ed to get a job is ancient Greece. Good luck with that degree.
-The traffic today on East Wheelock is going to be murder, so once they start handing out diplomas, you should slip out in the middle of the K"s.
And, I have to tell you this：
-You will spend more money framing your child"s diploma than they will earn in the next six months. It"s tough out there, so be patient. The only people hiring right now are Panera Bread and Mexican drug cartels.
Yes, you parents must be patient because it is indeed a grim job market out there. And one of the reasons it"s so tough finding work is that aging baby boomers refuse to leave their jobs. Trust me on this. Even when they promise you for fi ve years that they are going to leave-and say it on television-I mean you can go on YouTube right now and watch the guy do it, there is no guarantee they won"t come back. Of course, I"m speaking generally.
But enough. This is not a time for grim prognostications or negativity. No, I came here today because, believe it or not, I actually do have something real to tell you. Eleven years ago I gave an address to a graduating class at Harvard. I have not spoken at a graduation since because I thought I had nothing left to say. But then 2010 came. And now I"m here, three thousand miles from my home, because I learned a hard but profound lesson last year and I"d like to share it with you. In 2000，I told graduates"Don"t be afraid to fail."Well, now I"m here to tell you that, though you should not fear failure, you should do your very best to avoid it.
Nietzsche famously said"Whatever doesn"t kill you makes you stronger."But what he failed to stress is that it almost kills you. Disappointment stings and, for driven, successful people like yourselves it is disorienting. What Nietzsche should have said is"Whatever doesn"t kill you, makes you watch a lot of Cartoon Network and drink mid-price Chardonnay at 11 in the morning."
Now, by definition, Commencement speakers at an Ivy League college are considered successful. But a little over a year ago, I experienced a profound and very public disappointment. I did not get what I wanted, and I left a system that had nurtured and helped defi ne me for the better part of 17 years. I went from being in the center of the grid to not only off the grid, but underneath the coffee table that the grid sits on, lost in the shag carpeting that is underneath the coffee table supporting the grid. It was the making of a career disaster, and a terrible analogy.
But then something spectacular happened. Fogbound, with no compass, and adrift, I started trying things. I grew a strange, cinnamon beard. I dove into the world of social media. I started tweeting my comedy. I threw together a national tour. I played the guitar. I did stand-up, wore a skin-tight blue leather suit, recorded an album, made a documentary, and frightened my friends and family. Ultimately, I abandoned all preconceived perceptions of my career path and stature and took a job on basic cable with a network most famous for showing reruns, along with sitcoms created by a tall, black man who dresses like an old, black woman. I did a lot of silly, unconventional, spontaneous and seemingly irrational things and guess what：with the exception of the blue leather suit, it was the most satisfying and fascinating year of my professional life. To this day I still don"t understand exactly what happened, but I have never had more fun, been more challenged-and this is important-had more conviction about what I was doing.
How could this be true
Well, it"s simple：There are few things more liberating in this life than having your worst fear realized. I went to college with many people who prided themselves on knowing exactly who they were and exactly where they were going. At Harvard, fi ve different guys in my class told me that they would one day be President of the United States. Four of them were later killed in motel shoot-outs. The other one briefl y hosted Blues Clues, before dying senselessly in yet another motel shoot-out. Your path at 22 will not necessarily be your path at 32 or 42.One"s dream is constantly evolving, rising and falling, changing course.
This happens in every job, but because I have worked in comedy for twenty-fi ve years, I can probably speak best about my own profession.
Way back in the 1940s there was a very, very funny man named Jack Benny. He was a giant star, easily one of the greatest comedians of his generation. And a much younger man named Johnny Carson wanted very much to be Jack Benny. In some ways he was, but in many ways he wasn"t. He emulated Jack Benny, but his own quirks and mannerisms, along with a changing medium, pulled him in a different direction. And yet his failure to completely become his hero made him the funniest person of his generation. David Letterman wanted to be Johnny Carson, and was not, and as a result my generation of comedians wanted to be David Letterman. And none of us are. My peers and I have all missed that mark in a thousand different ways. But the point is this：It is our failure to become our perceived ideal that ultimately defi nes us and makes us unique. It"s not easy, but if you accept your misfortune and handle it right, your perceived failure can become a catalyst for profound re-invention.
So, at the age of 47，after 25 years of obsessively pursuing my dream, that dream changed. For decades, in show business, the ultimate goal of every comedian was to host The Tonight Show. It was the Holy Grail, and like many people I thought that achieving that goal would defi ne me as successful.
But that is not true.
