Me? I’m REALLY not sorry….. but if I was I would use…
“I’m sorry too, Dimitri. I’m very sorry. Alright! You’re sorrier than I am! But I am sorry as well. I am as sorry as you are, Dimitri. Don’t say that you are more sorry than I am, because I am capable of being just as sorry as you are. So we’re both sorry, alright? Alright.” — President Muffley on the phone with Premier Kissoff in “Dr. Strangelove”
I begin by noting that at present, as so often in the past, I’m sorry. Yes, I am very, very sorry. It was all my fault and I am sorry for it all.
I am sorry, as always, for what I said. It was thoughtless and rude. It wasn’t really what I meant or felt in my heart. Many have taken my remarks to mean other than what I said. So true. Even I meant them to mean other than what they meant when I said them.
Well, the damage is done and I can’t undo the past.
All I can do is stand here strapped in the pillory of the present as all those whom I have so wrongly and without malice slandered cry like the little girly-men they are; yes, even the girls. Their pain is now my pain. I cringe to see them writhe with the bleeding agony as those raw wounds I ripped open by my harsh and unconsidered remarks are keel-hauled through ten cubic feet of table salt mixed into a horse trough of vinegar. I know that’s gotta smart.
I feel really bad about this. I feel even worse that I, through my abject failure to realize how deeply the dull hatchet of my speech would chop into them — even, yea, down to the living blue-veined bone — that I simply stood by and allowed the searing acid of my senseless scorn to pour without limit into their raw and festering souls. I am, as I said, deeply sorry — and feel bad besides.
Also, should the forensics prove unhelpful to my case, I would like to say for the record, that I did not know the gun was loaded.
I have listened to America whinging. I have heard the rising torrent of justifiable outrage at every rising bubble of flatulent un-pc remarks breaking beneath the body politic; the howls of those whose most sacred, festering and inane ideological beliefs I have eviscerated with the chain-saw of my words. I have heard the skin-shuddering shrieks of those who have been sliced into bloody gobbets of flesh by my razor keen remarks. Though I am unworthy to feel that pain, I feel it still as if it were a red-hot 3/4 inch Makita drill bit driven into the base of my skull and left there set on “Wash-Rinse-Repeat.”
To these wounded souls I offer, in deep and abject humility — since I am, because I spoke those hurtful, hurtful words, lower than a cockroach’s stool stuck to the bottom of a homeless hermit’s shabby sandal in the storm drains of Las Vegas — I offer these tender buttons, these delicate little bunnies, my most sincere if unworthy apology.