The local elementary school recently invited me to speak to a group of kindergarteners and first-graders at Career Day, which was today. The schedule of “professionals” speaking before and after me was littered with an assortment of losers and other social misfits. There was a chemist, an investment banker, an anthesiologist, and the head of the local soup kitchen. So, to keep the kids from falling asleep, I decided to given them something more meaningful than the average Career Day speech.
That’s where Game of Thrones comes into play. It’s a show chock full of strategic and tactical maneuvers of immense value to today’s youth. The fact that it’s episodes are not regularly shown in America’s schools (do they seriously still show that Channel One dogshit?) is one of the biggest problems facing our company.
I decided to single-handedly rectify that wrong today. I showed up to Career Day decked out in black jeans, one of my work polos, my letter jacket, and wraparound Oakleys to give the kids a clear, visual example of what unqualified success looks like. I was ushered to a room filled with young children sitting on the floor and, as I requested, a projection screen had been set up.
The kids mostly looked like an eclectic group of losers, and I let them know that right out of the gate. The teacher and some of the other parents asked me to please “watch my language” after I dropped a handful of F-bombs in front of the kids. But I got past those distractions and the time came for the centerpiece of my speech. I dimmed the lights, turned on the projector, poured a little Fireball whiskey in a tumbler I’d brought, and began to give a speech that would make Don Draper proud:
“Kids, today I want to introduce you to a great, historical American figure that you might not know much about. His name was Tywin Lannister, and he orchestrated the greatest strategic move in human history. Now, fortunately, you all will one day leave the safe confines of this glorified day care and get out into the real world. I’m not going to lie – most of you look like stone-cold losers. [Gesturing to frail kid who is clearly the smartest kid in the class] Timmy, you specifically are probably due for a lifetime full of disappointments and never lettering in a goddamn thing.
But some hope exists. When you get out there in the real world, the most important thing is dominating your adversaries – be that on the football field, in the boardroom, in the science lab, or in church. And what better way to do that than follow in the footsteps of history’s greatest tactician – Mr. Tywin Lannister:”
At that point, I hooked up my laptop to the projection screen and began to stream the most important historic event in history—The infamous “Red Wedding Scene” from Game of Thrones. I picked up immediately where the “Rains of Castamere” begin to play and the door is locked.
“Watch closely, kids,” I said, “for mastery is about to be on full display.”
When the arrows began to fly, screams started to echo in the classroom. Kids were weeping, begging for their parents, and covering their eyes. I started screaming at the kids and threatening to expel them if they didn’t uncover their eyes and watch brilliance unfold. Meanwhile I had to start throwing devastating downfield blocks on the parents and staff who were trying to unhook my ipad from the projector. I must have taken out 5 or 6 parents and at least one grandparent before Catelyn Stark finally met her demise and the scene ended.
I then stood there amongst the do-gooding parents writhing in agony on the ground and stared out amongst the kids with a determined look on my face. “Remember what you have seen here today kids, because this is what domination looks like.” Two dirty, sociopathic-looking “discipline problem” kids sitting in a pen to keep them away from other kids stood and applauded. I asked them for their names and told them I looked forward to having them on my youth football team.
At that point, the pepper spray hit my face, and things got hazy. Next thing I knew I was on the sidewalk with security standing over me and telling me that if I set foot in the parking lot again, I’d be arrested on the spot. So I got in my T-Bird an tore out of there, knowing I’d taught all in attendance a lesson they won’t soon forget.