Me: The Night Writer, John Stewart; 50 years old and smart enough to have married my trophy wife first.
But, but, but ... oh boy, now I'm in trouble
It was an honor for me to be invited to be a contributing writer to the new Minnesota group blog True North. I don't write frequently or deeply about politics but I get a good post off every now and then about the Minnesota scene or cultural anomalies and/or artifacts. To be told I had "chops" and ought to be a part of this new venture made me blush, avert my eyes and shyly shuffle my mouse. I knew I was going to have to live up to being part of a talented and volatile company of bloggers, and I didn't know if I would fit in.
Just as nominees to a new political administration are flipped and grilled and have their pasts treated as merely so many prophetic entrails, I fear that in the wake of "Butt-Cheekgate" my past indiscretions will be my undoing. Therefore, in an effort to be upfront and to forestall the endless rounds of "gotcha" journalism, I want to forthrightly confess that I, too, have used similar wording on my blog. Not only that, but in a headline as well.
Please understand, I was much younger then and it all seemed like a bit of a harmless lark. Never in a million years would I have suspected that it would come back to haunt me like this and cause such embarrassment to my friends and family. To them, and anyone who I may have offended, I sincerely apologize. Not that I'm really like Learned Foot, of course. I mean, the idea that he'd not just push the nascent envelope but rip through it like a bottle rocket was as safe a bet as taking the "under" on how many games Rondell White would play before getting hurt this year. Still, I think I'm going to shelve the post I was working on comparing Nick Coleman to a dingleberry.
If that's not repentance, I don't know what is.
Just as nominees to a new political administration are flipped and grilled and have their pasts treated as merely so many prophetic entrails, I fear that in the wake of "Butt-Cheekgate" my past indiscretions will be my undoing. Therefore, in an effort to be upfront and to forestall the endless rounds of "gotcha" journalism, I want to forthrightly confess that I, too, have used similar wording on my blog. Not only that, but in a headline as well.
Please understand, I was much younger then and it all seemed like a bit of a harmless lark. Never in a million years would I have suspected that it would come back to haunt me like this and cause such embarrassment to my friends and family. To them, and anyone who I may have offended, I sincerely apologize. Not that I'm really like Learned Foot, of course. I mean, the idea that he'd not just push the nascent envelope but rip through it like a bottle rocket was as safe a bet as taking the "under" on how many games Rondell White would play before getting hurt this year. Still, I think I'm going to shelve the post I was working on comparing Nick Coleman to a dingleberry.
If that's not repentance, I don't know what is.