Make the Class of 2020 a Meaningful Omelet — Outlandish Ideas to Show True Support

Class of 2020 Outlandish art


So how about the recent Facebook phenomenon where of people of all ages are posting their senior pictures to show support for the Class of 2020? It’s a nice gesture, but it’s engendered legitimate criticism, because — let’s be honest — it takes near-zero effort and does nothing to significantly enrich or achieve anything for the Class of 2020.


The critics have a point. If you want to make a meaningful omelet, you’ve got to break a few eggs. A sincere show of support requires a concerted effort. It should hurt, involve sacrifice, or cost you something. At the very least, you should be willing to suffer some inconvenience for the cause.


With that in mind, here are 10 things you can do to demonstrate, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that you support the Class of 2020. Are they outlandish? Weird? Ill-advised?  Juvenile? Well yes, but your blood, sweat and tears still mean far more to the Class of 2020 than an old senior photo ever will.  (And tag any photos you post #MeaningfulOmelet2020, so the new grads can see who really cares about them!)


  1. Go to a zoo with some clippers. Shave “Class of 2020” into the fur of the largest animal you can find.


  1. Send $20.20 to a member of the Class of 2020. If that’s too exorbitant for you, go out into your neighborhood in the dead of night and tape 20 cents — in any combination of coins — onto the car windshields of 20 households with members of the Class of 2020.


  1. Women, donate 20 eggs to a fertility clinic. Men, donate 20 million sperm to a sperm bank.


  1. Legally change your name to “Top Admirer of the Class Of 2020.” Or if that’s too cumbersome, change it to the acronym “TACO-20.” Alternatively, if you’re expecting a baby anytime soon, give your newborn that name.


  1. Post one photo each of 20 of your body parts on social media. (No repeating the same part.)


  1. Number a page from 1-20, then write the names of 20 members of the Class of 2020 you know. Time limit 20 minutes. If you can’t name 20, then for every blank, you must pluck out a nose hair and do a shot of Mad Dog 20/20.


  1. Take twice the recommended daily dose of a fiber supplement – such as Metamucil or Benefiber — every day for the remainder of the year 2020. Think of the Class of 2020 every time you enter a restroom.


  1. Send a thoughtful handwritten note to a member of the Class of 2020. It doesn’t have to be long or fancy. Share your wisdom and encouragement and incorporate a 2020 theme. (Example: “Theoretically, you still have time to experience 2,020 orgasms before you die.”)


  1. Slice your palm open with a sharp knife. Write “Class of 2020” in your blood on a nearby wall or mirror, snap a photo, then post it on every Class of 2020 Facebook page you can access.


  1. Get a permanent “Class of 2020” tattoo in a visible place. Exception: a tattoo on either butt cheek will do if the tattoo says “Ass of 2020.”


We love you, Class of 2020!  #MeaningfulOmelet2020



©Nancy L Walsh, All rights reserved.

Published on Medium at


Pyrography, An Exciting New Hobby

March 14, 2020

So how’s everybody doing as we approach the end of Social Distancing Day 2, staying close to home and avoiding others? How am I doing? Thanks for asking. I’m losing my shit.

But I’ve resolved to try to productively use this time as I descend into madness. I did some research on the world wide interwebs – just an aside, has anyone else noticed that there are actually people out there telling LIES on the Internet?

Anyway, after extensive review and consideration of many tempting options, I’m thinking about taking up PYROGRAPHY, the art of burning designs in wood, leather and other materials. (To be clear, it’s not pornography – it’s pyrography.) This looks like a kick ass fun hobby! Listen to what the ads for pyrography tools say.

        “Use this woodburning tool to add designs to wood boxes, wood plaques, leather belts, gourds and more.”

I very VERY much like the idea of burning things. Plus it’ll give me something to do with all those bland, unadorned GOURDS I have lying around! Maybe I can even attach several festively-decorated gourds to the many leather belts I’m going to burn rad pop art designs into. I might create a new fashion craze!

Look what it says will happen if I buy the woodburning thingy in the ad attached below:

        “The satisfaction you feel after burning a beautiful landscape into an even more beautiful piece of wood is immeasurable.”

That’s right, my peeps! Imma get me some pyrography-based IMMEASURABLE SATISFACTION.

        “Pyrography art makes great birthday, anniversary or even Christmas presents.”

I’m not going to be selfish, either. We’re all in this together! I’m going to share my pyrographic creations with all of you, so we can all experience IMMEASURABLE SATISFACTION despite our social distancing. If you get a package in the mail from me that smells like it’s been in a bonfire, you can be sure I’ve made you a GREAT GIFT!

I’m going to make you all gourd belts, and hideous slice-of-tree-trunk clocks, and plaques with burnt images of Elvis in his pudgy-middle-age-Hawaii-concert-jumpsuit-wearing years. I just found out there’s a Pyrography magazine, and one of the articles (not making this up) is “Burn Your Sneakers!”

The moment I finish writing this uplifting and informative post, I’m going to order hundreds of dollars’ worth of pyrography equipment and supplies! OMG – I just thought of something — I’m allowed to go outside if I stick close to home. I may even pyrography (pyrographize?) the back deck. But why stop there? I’m going to artistically char the entire outside of my house!

I’m also attaching an incredibly attractive montage of pyrography images I unearthed during my exhaustive research. Come on, who wants to join me? IMMEASURABLE SATISFACTION awaits!

50%OFF-Wood Burning Pyrography Kit

©NLWalsh, All rights reserved.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Absolutely no offense is intended by this post. I don’t mean to make light of a serious situation; please understand that I am of the “we laugh so we do not cry” school of coping.


Mrs. Doom

September 2018

So I was on a flight home after a great few days at Cape Cod. The plane was a small Jet Blue blue jet (clever wordplay, yes?), with two seats on either side of the aisle. I was in a window seat, and a 30’ish woman (let’s call her Liz) sat down next to me. She immediately turned to the elderly lady just across the aisle (let’s call her Mrs. Doom) and politely said, “I think you’re in my assigned seat. If this is your assigned seat I don’t mind staying here.” Mrs. Doom checked her boarding pass and said, “Oh, yes. I’m sorry.” Liz nodded and replied, “That’s fine, we can switch seats. I just wanted to make sure.” There was about a 5-second pause, then Mrs. Doom frowned, leaned across the aisle, touched Liz’ arm and said, “You know, maybe we shouldn’t switch seats, because… well, if the plane goes down, the chart they have of where people are sitting won’t be right….” Liz’s jaw dropped and she looked at Mrs. Doom in horror and replied, “Oh don’t say that!”

As you would expect, Mrs. Doom’s beyond-psycho-freak comment caught me totally by surprise and I snort-laughed out loud. (To be clear, it was a feminine, ladylike snort-laugh, not a nasty guttural hog-like bellow). After the snort I continued to silently shake with laughter, which I didn’t conceal well at all. Liz, sensing my mirth, clapped her hand over her mouth. I managed to squeak out, “I’m sorry… that was so unbelievably horrible that it was funny.” Luckily at that moment, a bunch more people boarded and blocked Mrs. Doom from view for a couple minutes. When the aisle cleared again, Mrs. Doom must have realized the depth of the awfulness of what she’d said; other passengers nearby had recoiled from her, visibly shocked. She leaned back across the aisle to Liz and said, “You know, I only said that about the plane going down because I know it won’t happen.” That set me off on another silent body-shaking laughing jag. Liz told Mrs. Doom, “Thanks. It’s OK.” Then Liz turned to me & silently mouthed, “Oh my God!”

As I tried to compose myself, the laughing fit wouldn’t subside, because I started to imagine what it would be like if Mrs. Doom ran Jet Blue. The flight attendants would give the usual pre-flight safety speech, and then add, “In the unlikely event that this Embraer 190 aircraft plummets to earth in a screaming white-hot fireball and everyone on board is incinerated into trace amounts of charred carbon, please be considerate of the hardworking employees of the National Transportation Safety Board who’ll be investigating the crash. Please sit in your assigned seat, or you will cause delays and additional paperwork for the NTSB as they reassemble the debris of the plane to try to determine the cause of the crash. If you switch seats, the tooth fragments melted into what’s left of your assigned seat will be someone else’s and won’t match up with your dental records or the downed flight’s seating chart that the airline will provide the NTSB. If that happens, the investigators will have to fill out several lengthy government forms, which will delay your loved ones getting confirmation that your remains have been identified, and it will of course delay the release of your remains for your funerals. All that hassle just because you didn’t want to play by the rules! Now, sit back and enjoy the flight, and thanks for selecting Jet Blue!”

I never said it to Mrs. Doom, but I think she’d have less air travel stress if she got herself microchipped.

©NLWalsh, All rights reserved.