It’s high school graduation time in America! Let’s be real: bitching about public education in this country would be considered the national pastime if scrolling through Netflix wasn’t so firmly entrenched in the top position. Take your pick of ills: grade inflation has become epidemic (the average grade point average has increased markedly while the average SAT score has, curiously, declined). Funding always seems inadequate. And let’s not forget the hidden danger in your child’s classroom that could be putting thousands of students at risk!

But these problems are all complicated… especially that last one, which is — spoiler alert — a testy poltergeist. My beef is pretty simple: graduation attire. Everyone wears the same basic outfit: a cap (AKA a mortarboard) and a gown (or robe). Fairly standard. If a student is a member of the National Honor Society, they might wear a stole — that thing that looks like a vestment worn by members of the clergy. Honors graduates usually don a cord. Fine. But lately, I’ve seen pictures of recent graduates positively festooned with accessories — and it’s a bit ridiculous. Take a look:

What’s going on here?! This joker on the left has one stole, five cords, and three medals! Is there an honor society this guy didn’t join? Why isn’t he a household name? You’d think his smirk of self-satisfaction would be enough to assert his superiority over his fellow classmates. I think the medal with the blue ribbon is for not using the restroom at school for four years. That’s a thing, I swear.

Some high schools have cords that denote membership in clubs and organizations beyond NHS, which can lead to ridiculousness:

Sheesh. No one has time for all the stuff this girl was allegedly involved in. Sarah, great job in yearbook. And band. And student council. And, most especially, for your tireless efforts on behalf of the Graduation Attire Committee. Yes, it went $17,000 over budget, but you can’t argue with the results.

You get a cord! You get a cord!

By the way, what the fuck is this guy doing?! Why didn’t someone tell him to move that worthless diploma? It’s blocking my view of the CORDS. This lack of basic etiquette is troubling, which is why he doesn’t have that ninth cord for basic etiquette.

It’s certainly easier to poke fun at this trend than to figure out what’s behind it. I think that in recent decades we’ve become laser-focused on asserting the “specialness” of our children. In essence, isn’t cord madness just an extension of the “Everybody gets a trophy” mindset? And witness how we now hold graduations for nursery school, kindergarten, 8th grade, etc. We’re in love with pomp and circumstance. It’s the boost in self-worth our kids didn’t know they needed!

Also, we celebrate individuality like never before. Consider this: the very antithesis of individuality is hundreds of kids marching in formation dressed in identical, shapeless gowns and funny hats. Boo to that! A cord (or seven) will take care of that problem.

For the record, I’m not against recognition of achievement. I’m against recognition of achievement in ostentatious fashion. Plus, I’m like 500 words into this post and I can’t turn back now.

Bling is making a shamockery of a ceremony that declares that a kid has attained the basic level of knowledge required to function as an adult. Unfortunately, as long as we have tedious speeches, crippling heat, and screaming babies dominating the proceedings, its insidious influence on the high school commencement will continue to grow unabated.