Dear gentle, loyal reader, this is a post of apologies. Apologies that cover a myriad of atrocities committed on behalf of my ego, my laziness, my obliviousness, my callousness, my selfishness, my short-sightedness, my anti-social...ness, my intense desire to be right...ness, and/or my reactionary nature. I owe so very many apologies to so very many people for so very many reasons, that I scarcely know where to begin. I guess all I can do is...
1) I want to apologize to you for not being more consistent with this Blog. In truth, I really do enjoy writing it. Also in truth, I am a lazy crap-for-crap and unless I am inspired (in TFTR fashion), I will not simply sit down and force myself to write. So for those of you (Mom) who keep checking back here, in vain, for updates...to you I must say, "You like me...you really like me!"
2) I want to apologize for - summarily, out-of-hand - dismissing anyone and everyone with a peace symbol on their car, person, or domicile as a naive, delusional, tree-hugging hippie. You are entitled to your delusions, and your naiveté brings a mirthful smile to my soul. Long may you live in your land of rainbows and unicorns; long may your consistent patronage inspire more and more head shops to dot the landscape.
3) I want to apologize to Dave Matthews Band (DMB). For many years now, I have loathed you. Sure, the quality of your musicianship is to be applauded. And who wouldn't commend your judicious choice of Tour Bus waste dumping sites ( http://www.tonyrogers.com/humor/dave_matthews_crap.htm ). Of course, your song titles are...interesting (Tripping Billies? Proudest Monkey?) and Dave, when you play you look like you have been constipated for close to 24 years. Long have I decried your existence as an opiate for the Abercrombie & Fitch masses; a banner for the coffeehouse pseudo-intellectuals to waive to the world to say, "See, we love soy lattes, earth tones AND accessible acoustic driven 'rock'." I also saw you as a banal, generic sign for the 'poor-little-trust-fund kids' to waive to the rest of us as if to say, "See? We listen to the same bands you do. The only exception is, I had my butler run out to Tower records and buy the boxed set...while you had to sell blood and other bodily fluids to buy nose-bleed seats to their shows." But then I heard the song Crush...and here we are...
4) I want to apologize to the Boston Red Sox. See above. (but I still won't root for you).
5) I want to apologize to Country Music. I dismissed you out of hand as formulaic and archaic purely on the basis that at least every other song deals with working outside all day and then finding alcohol, or partying by a lake with large trucks, bonfires, and alcohol (a dangerous combination), or breaking off a relationship and then drowning oneself (and one's horse) in alcohol, or operating large, multi-ton agricultural equipment while swigging alcohol. Ok, maybe I made that last one up...but the point is made. ON TOP OF ALL THAT you have a 'band' like Rascal Flatts who's lead singer may or may not have skipped puberty altogether and who perpetrated the most egregious aural assault on mankind since the US used AC/DC to pry Manuel Noriega from his church in Panama in the form of the 'song' Me and My Gang. But then my wife introduced me to Brad Paisley and his song This is Country Music (that he wrote by the way...the closest Rascal Flatts gets to writing a song is signing their CDs) and here we are...
6) I want to apologize to Stephenie Meyer for I shall never read your 'books'. Ever. Never ever. Never ever ever. The great, the sublime, the LEGENDARY author Anne Rice has ruined me for all other vampire fiction. She and she alone (further apologies to Bram Stoker), treated the monster as a man and, ultimately, the man as a monster. She expertly weaved a human heart into an inhuman beast...and when she finally rips it, bleeding and broken from the chest of Louis, you know that any future portrayal of sparkly diamond skin in the sunlight is a joke.
7) I want to apologize to my wife, she will read #6 and #5 and, well, pretty much all of this and accuse me - correctly, it would appear - of being an overly-dramatic, egomaniacal, gasbag. I love you too, sweetheart.
8) I want to apologize to all of the overly-dramatic, egomaniacal gasbags out there for being such a poor representation of you. You deserve better. I recommend Keith Olbermann.
9) I want to apologize to my novel(s), short stories, and haikus that are whirling and swirling around half-formed and under-fed in my mind. You deserve a better host. Someone who can breathe the proper life into you. Someone who will dedicate themselves to the nurturing and furthering of your eventual existence. I recommend...pretty much anyone but me. (but mostly Cormac McCarthy).
10) I want to apologize to my son. You see buddy, I love you too much. I want to protect you too much. I already can tell that I will be that Dad who won't let you play tackle football, or ride your bike without a helmet, or do any of those perceived high-risk activities all young boys want to do. I will shelter you, I will smother you...but it will all be in love.
11) I want to apologize to my friends who live near and far, I do not call you as often as I should. I do not seek you out to hang as often as I should. This is a problem...and I will fix it. Expect a call, soon. If you don't get one...you probably should get the hint...or give me your new number.
12) I want to apologize to my Brother-in-law, Luke...for the humiliating defeat I dealt you in FIFA so long ago. You will feign ignorance of this event (as any bested man would), but let me bring it all back to you: I was the USA (sans Clint Dempsey and Tim Howard...it was FIFA 06) and you were mighty England at the height of its Golden Era. And I beat you...nay, I CRUSHED you 4-0. I think I even scored two goals with Josh Wolff (Who? Exactly). AND THEN (this is the best part)...and then your X-box 360 broke. Yes, that's right...I beat you so bad, your own X-box committed suicide in shame. I want to apologize to you again, now, for dredging up the depths of your degradation and putting it on display for all to see. Should you dispute these things that I have said, I will call upon your wife - who was there - to attest to these events.
13) I want to apologize to the game of basketball. For whenever I pick up your rounded namesake...I bring great shame upon your legacy...and myself...and my family...and my wife's family...and anyone watching at that moment...You know what, I'm just going throw up an apology across the board. You all deserve one.
14) I want to apologize to my Bible...you have not been opened in so very long...I will rectify tonight.
15) I want to apologize to I-595...the words/names I habitually direct at you between the hours of 7:30am and 8:00am would make Richard Pryor blush.
16) I want to apologize to the Duke Blue Devils men's basketball team. We were young when we met (well, I was anyways) and I supported you loyally...even in the face of my wife and in-laws. But when my son was almost with us, my wife sat me down - and with an earnestness to rival most Joel Osteen book covers - pleaded with me to not force our as-yet-unborn son to chose between us. So, for love of my son (as described in #10), I forsook you for another...the UNC Tarheels. But we'll always have JJ...and his sweet, sweet jumper...
17) I want to apologize to my Fender Stratocaster guitar. I heard a rumor once that a young John Mayer came to Sam Ash in Margate looking for a Strat but tripped over his size 16 feet in the parking lot and hit his face on the side rail of an Expedition. He then spent 3 hours looking at his face in a side-view mirror trying to gauge if the fall did - in fact - improve it. He ultimately decided that one cannot improve upon perfection and strolled inside just as I was paying for you. Alas...what you could have been...
18) I want to apologize to former American Idol winner Taylor Hicks. I put a voodoo curse upon you because my wife had an unhealthy infatuation with your voice. While your precipitous decline in popularity is a boon to the Earth...I am sure it has caused you much in the way of hardship.
19) I want to apologize to Umberto Eco. You worked so hard to write The Name of the Rose, but I gave up mid-way through...It was just too much. I get it, you're brilliant. You don't need to bash me over the head with your philosophy on Sin and Penance. And your philosophy on the value of Science. And your philosophy on the importance of language. And your philosophy on the role of the Church in society. And your philosophy on forbidden knowledge. And your philosophy on...well, you get the idea.
20) I want to - lastly - apologize to my Mother. That one time in 1995...it was me. I did it, and I felt terrible for minutes afterwards.
FIN
