Two roads diverged in a wood...

...and I - I took the cliché.

It's that time of the year again. Fourth quarter. Valedictorians all around the country will be digging out their parents' dusty copies of Bobby Frost, preparing to recite the first poem they think they understood with all the performative flare of a fax machine. What a shame that a solid poem has been Hallmarked™ beyond relevance.

Then they'll mix things up by finding a not-so-new way to say "follow your dreams" or "you can do anything you set your mind to" or "this is not the end; this is the beginning." Just once I'd like to hear something a little more punk rock. Or at least honest.

"Your dream to be a cleavage-bearing CSI specialist is idiotic."

"You will be able to accomplish some of the things you put your mind to, but they will probably not be your first choice. What about accounting? That's a good, solid career. The world will always need accountants. Your uncle Fred is an accountant. You remember Fred."

"This is the end of carefree fun. It is the beginning of student loans. Your brow will never be that smooth again. Unless you find a cheap botox hook-up...and by the look of the unseasonably tan faces out there, you're gonna need it."

And if you can't be honest, at least make the lie original and exciting. Though not technically a valedictory address, I've always loved Hugh Gallagher's college essay.

But if you really want to read some good writing, check out McSweeney's Convergences Contest. Not only are the pictures stunning, but the analyses are (usually) profound.

Today I thought of Frost AND McSweeney's when I noticed on my mom's kitchen shelf a book called Microwave Gourmet Healthstyle Cookbook. The author? Kafka. At least that's what it said on the spine. And it made me laugh. Further investigation revealed that it had been written by Barbara Kafka, but the joke had landed. I'm still chuckling as I think about Franz describing - in painstaking detail - the metamorphosis of a Hot Pocket. How about a Divergences Contest? It will consist of finding examples of pairings so incongruent, so asynchronous as to beggar the imagination. If anyone spots a good one, email me.

PS. No disrespect to Chelsea. She & I both graduated in the Class of '97. PeaceI'mouttahere!