Sorry

    Judge Connors, members of the jury, law guys, witnesses and victims. I stand before you today an humbled, apologetic, but mostly a convicted man. Stealing that bulldozer was a mistake, and I’d like to apologize to the construction workers, the foreman, the architect and anyone else who may have been affected by my actions. I’m sorry.
    I realize now too, that, when I drove that bulldozer onto a busy city street, causing a 16-car pileup--most of which was part of a funeral procession--I was behaving irresponsibly. I’d like to apologize to the hearse driver, the Harrison family and most of all, the deceased Saul Harrison, for, as the widow so accurately described, “ruining the funeral completely.” Additionally, I’d like to apologize to the good folks at the Scheffer Family Funeral Home for my actions, and may I just say, you were all very professional and efficient in getting Mr. Harrison back in the coffin as quickly as possible.
    I’d like to apologize also to the George Washington Carver High School football team, whose bus was stranded behind in the pileup, and who were forced, because of my actions, to forfeit their semifinal playoff game, thereby eliminating any chance they had to play for a state championship. My bad, guys, my bad.
    Further, I’d like to apologize to anyone and everyone affected by my abandoning the bulldozer in the ambulance lane of the emergency room at Sacred Heart. I realize now that I could’ve easily left the bulldozer virtually anywhere else, that, had I done that, fewer people might have bled to death, as confused and frustrated paramedics wondered, “Hey, where’d that bulldozer come from?”
    I’m really, really sorry for that.
    I’d like to give a particularly sincere apology to those in attendance of Jeremy Holland’s Halloween party. When I burst in, without a costume, you were completely justified in politely asking me to leave--and now, I wish I would have. I apologize to all guests for my language, my obscene gesturing, and my punching several of you. Most of all, I’d like to apologize to Mr. Holland himself. Mr. Holland, I’m sorry for kicking your dog and grabbing your wife’s boobs, as well as for the accompanying “Honk honk” noise I made. I hope you’ll accept my apology.
    But most of all, I’d like to apologize to the people of Somalia. When I ran into who I believed was a friendly black fellow with a funny accent, but turned out to be a brutal Somali warlord, I was pretty drunk, from the beers I stole from Mr. Holland’s house, before trampling his flower bed and keying his car--oh, yeah, Mr. Holland, sorry for that stuff too, and the beer thing.
    Anyway, when General Abuukar Tahlil Saadaq approached me asking for $10,000--for what I believed to be an investment opportunity, but was in fact a large cache of outdated Soviet weapons--I was a sheet past three sheets and, frankly, I can’t tell you why I took out my checkbook. But I did, and I’m sorry.
    Of course, Abu--that’s what I call General Abuukar--Abu used my $10,000 to supply his militia of fundamentalist guerillas with weapons. Now, hundreds are dead, thousands have been displaced and martial law has been declared in Mogadishu. For this, I am sorry. If anyone in the court today speaks Somali, please pass that on to those guys.
    As sentencing approaches, I throw myself on the mercy of the court. And though I cannot defend my stealing a bulldozer, causing a multiple car pileup, ruining a funeral, robbing some high school kids of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, blocking the entrance of a busy emergency room, ruining a Halloween party, or helping to fund a ruthless Somali militia, when deciding my fate, just know this: I’m really, really sorry.