I got a story to tell every word of it true, except for the parts I made up for you, just some history that has been reworded into a mystery called the way I heard it.

Well, there it is. Another blast of unsolicited four-part harmony, heralding another bonus episode, this one number 326.

It's called the Class of 23.

Chuck, ask me why.

It's called the Class of 23.

Why, pray, tell, is it called the Class of 23?

That's a fine query.

I'll tell you why, because this year I was flattered, nay, honored with several

dozen requests to deliver the commencement address to as many fine universities, colleges, trade schools, and high schools.

How wonderful? How many did you do?

I did none, Chuck. I'll tell you why. In fact, ask me why. It's better if you ask me.

Why on earth did you do none, Mike?

I was busy writing this story.

No. Of course you're. Well, because, well, a couple reasons. Mostly because I wrote a kind of generic yet heartfelt commencement address to all the graduates of trade schools a couple of years ago

that's still out there. And I honestly can't find a better, I can't find a better message

to deliver to the class of 23 than the one I already wrote. So if you're really curious about

what I would say to the class of 23, you can Google it and find it and listen to it.

But if you're curious about why I would write a story about the class of 23, well, then you have to ask yourself the question I asked, which is, what would I say about the graduating class of the most exclusive school in America, where I invited to do so?

And that little exercise turned in to the seven or eight minutes story I'm about to share with you right now.

What do you think, Chuck? Are you titillated?

Are you interested?

I'm certainly interested, although in full disclosure, I am familiar with the story.

...