Iâ€™m sorry for a lot of things. Iâ€™m sorry that you wonâ€™t get to graduate in Cal Polyâ€™s beautiful stadium because of the construction, and that youâ€™re missing out on a long and proud school tradition of which you will never, ever be a part.
Iâ€™m sorry that Cal Poly once again rejected my bid to be your graduation speaker, so I have to write my speech here instead. Iâ€™m sorry that reading this column in print means youâ€™ll miss out on my thundering and stunning oratory skills, which would put Abraham Lincoln and Martin Luther King Jr.â€™s love child to shame, even if that child grew up in Winston Churchillsâ€™s house and joined Toastmasters with Jesse Jackson later in life.
Iâ€™m sorry that most of you fell in love with San Luis Obispo and would like to stay in this city but canâ€™t because of high housing prices, a lack of jobs relating to your major, andâ€”for a few of youâ€”outstanding warrants that will keep you on the move for years. Iâ€™m sorry to say that most of the locals wonâ€™t be sorry to see you go, though theyâ€™ll sorely miss the money you bring in. Iâ€™m sorry to report, however, that tourists bring in money, too, and they donâ€™t stick around as long.
Iâ€™m sorry, but Iâ€™m right.
Iâ€™m sorry that anyone who runs into Cal Poly President Warren Baker this week will hear the same tired words heâ€™s paraded around for years, probably since he first learned who Ghandi was back at Toastmasters with Jesse Jackson.
Iâ€™m sorry that I donâ€™t have something more substantial to say, though Iâ€™m sure you understand the necessity of padding out assignments with extra words in order to meet deadlines and quotas and expected goals. Iâ€™m sorry that an ability to B.S. your way through situations will get you farther in life than will your diplomaâ€”whether you end up framing it and hanging it on your office wall or not. Iâ€™m sorry that youâ€™ll get even farther if you have connections to people in high places to whom you can demonstrate your B.S. abilities.
Iâ€™m sorry that I misread this headline as â€œPomp and circumcisionâ€? and thought I was going to be attending a bris. In that vein, Iâ€™m sorry for the gift I brought, especially because you probably wonâ€™t be able to return an ice pack that reads â€œMazel Tov!â€?â€”I got it on sale: half off.
Iâ€™m sorry that I learned some gossip about campaign finance contributions after the elections, so itâ€™s too late to mention them. Iâ€™m sorry that Iâ€™m so strapped for ideas this morning that Iâ€™ll mention them anyway: Campaign contribution disclosure forms blowing around show that folks like Rodger Anderson and Katcho Achadjian were certainly pocketing a fair share of funds from developers and Realtors, as well as money from Republican names like Tom Bordonaro, or at least the Bordonaro for Assessor campaign. Since Tom ran unopposed, I guess he had some funds left over. Iâ€™m sorry to touch on the developers issue again, but a few seem to have donated to both Rodger and Katcho from different companies that share the same address. Looks like Rodger got $1,000 each from five separate development companies in Atascadero, all from the same spot on Alcantara Avenue. Iâ€™m sorry, but doesnâ€™t developer Kelly Gearhart live somewhere around there?
Iâ€™m sorry to learn that Abel Maldonado is not as bulletproof as I once thought, considering that he lost the first election that I can ever remember him losingâ€”no Republican state controller candidacy for himâ€”but he still has two years to spend in the Senate, and Iâ€™m not sure how I feel about that. Sorry?
Iâ€™m sorry that the people of this fine community didnâ€™t pass Cuestaâ€™s bond measure. Iâ€™m sorry to say that students and staff there will have to make do with the few pennies they have, but maybe next time around theyâ€™ll take a tip from Allan Hancock College President Jose Ortiz to the south and not ask for quite so much money from taxpayersâ€”he got all $180 million that he was hoping for.
Iâ€™m sorry that within daysâ€”hours, evenâ€”you graduates will have to face a life outside of college boundaries. Iâ€™m sorry to say that youâ€™re entering a world that canâ€™t wait for a fresh batch of graduates, piping hot out of the collegiate oven, to chew up and swallow in bite-sized chunks with an ice-cold glass of milk.
Iâ€™m sorry that you canâ€™t believe everything you read, except you just read that, which means you can believe everything you read. If it turns out that you canâ€™t actually believe everything you read, thatâ€™s OK. Iâ€™m not really sorry. About most of it, anyway. âˆ†