Sun. Jul 14th, 2024

Donald Rumsfeld: I am deeply sorry. Deeply, deeply, deeply, deeply, deeply, deeply, deeply, deeply, deeply, deeply, sorry. Not only am I deeply sorry, I am sincerely deeply sorry for … [to aide] What am I sorry for? OK.

A heart-feld apology



I am deeply, deeply, deeply, deeply, deeply, deeply, deeply, deeply, deeply, deeply, sorry and sincerely deeply sorry for dropping my marmalade toast on the carpet.

In dropping this marmalade toast I brought a stain on the carpet. And for this I am deeply, deeply, deeply, sorry.



It is true that I knew as long ago as last January that I had dropped my marmalade toast on the carpet, and I knew, moreover, that it landed sticky side down. I didn’t see any need at the time to tell Congress or the President because I immediately ordered a wet cloth.

Rummy did marma-plop on the carpet.

It seems that despite this some members of the government and the President have marmalade impregnated fluff attached to their socks. I will of course order my staff to clean the socks at only a small extra charge.



It is also true that I had received explicit warnings about the marmalade toast. The Red Cross did in fact tell me that spinning toast on the end of my finger could result in it falling to the carpet, but the CIA told me that in such cases the toast always falls dry side down. In the event it fell sticky side down.



It was only when I saw all the sticky fluff attached to the stain on the carpet that I understood the full extent of the marmalade.



As for the abuse of Iraqi prisoners … fuck ’em, they’re all a bunch of camel jockeys.
May 9, ’04

By chris page

Magazine editor, writer of fiction and non-fiction; exile; cat person; red wine for blood and cheese in his soul. Chris Page is the author of the novels Weed, Sanctioned, Another Perfect Day in ****ing Paradise, King of the Undies World, and The Underpants Tree. He is also a freelance journalist, copywriter, editor, cartoonist, illustrator, graphic designer, and consultant in the use and abuse of false moustaches (don’t wear them — you’re welcome — the invoice is in the mail).

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