Thank you, graduates of Stanford University's Class of 2033. I'm honored to be here. I know most of you were hoping to hear Chelsea Clinton, '01, but I understand as president of the United States, she's pretty busy.

But I, too, once attended this fine institution. And I'd like to share with you some of my insights and experiences from that dark time known as the years 2004 through 2008, some 25 years ago...

Esteemed graduates, I hope you leave Stanford as I once did, ready to face the world ahead, but sad to leave the place you called home for four years. And if there was a home within a home for me at Stanford, it was called The Daily.

You see, back then we had these things called newspapers. They were printed on paper<\p>--<\p>you know, that stuff made out of trees. We had newspapers for getting information, and for doing crossword puzzles and Sudoku during lectures. And, for half of my junior year, I was the editor<\p>--<\p>meaning I was in the office until 2 am most nights working to put out the paper the next day. It sounds archaic, I know. But it was the experience of a lifetime.

I came to The Daily as a wide-eyed freshman, hailing from Roble Hall. In 2004, Roble was a four-class dorm, which meant we had juniors and seniors to buy us beer. Campus, of course, was not dry then.

But I digress. After working as a reporter during my freshman year, I was hooked. I signed on to edit the news section, and they had me<\p>--<\p>first in the office once a week, then every day. We enjoyed great times in the office, which of course is in a different building today. We also, from time to time, broke some hard-hitting news. We may not have investigated enough<\p>--<\p>but who would have thought that Hoover Tower was actually a rocket ship built to fly Condoleezza Rice and Donald Rumsfeld to the moon in 2009?

But I didn't live at the Daily all four years. I spent some quality time in Mirrielees, Robinson House and off campus senior year. We had this thing called The Draw to assign housing, but I won't get into that... I realized that it doesn't matter where you live on this gorgeous campus; it is who you live with. Except Donner. I don't think I could bring myself to live there.

Class of 2033, I won't bore you with my innumerable fond memories of The Farm. Camping out for basketball games, sneaking onto the roof of Mirrielees and MemAud, backpacking through Patagonia (I got there before all the glaciers melted), studying abroad in Santiago, power rankings, power hours, Band runs, pub nights... I could go on for days.

Congratulations, class of 2033. Thank you for the honor of addressing you. I'm sorry you weren't as lucky as we were in 2008.

We had Oprah.