Mea Culpas for my Blog (thump!), my Blog (thump!), My Most Grievous Blog (thump!)

So many people have phoned in during the past 24 hours complaining about the previous rant that I feel it necessary to kneel before my combined readership (all two of you) and beg forgiveness. It seems I am an equal opportunity offender, since I have offended just about everybody in the free world.

1. First of all, I want to express my sincere apologies to the black polybutylethylenestyrene clothing industry for suggesting that there is anything strange about wearing their products. True, Uncle Ponsonby wore polybutylethylenestyrene, and he is rather strange, but then he's dead. Not that I mean to imply that there is any affinity between polybutylethylenestyrene and death...

2. Secondly, I am sorry for offending the licorice manufacturers. The fact that I stuff their product into my shoes should in no way be taken as proof that their product is so rock-solid hard that no one without steel-reinforced mechanical teeth could digest it. I am sorry if I gave that impression.

3. And not to forget the Slumbering Acres Funeral Parlor and Travel Agency, which I called evil. I should be more mature in my assessments. In truth, they are not so much evil as they are commercially rapacious, morally challenged, as well as mean, rotten and stinky.

4. Moreover, I apologize to the people whose bathroom I demolished. Not having enough toilet paper is no excuse for bathroom decimation, nor is it cause for reducing their house to a pile of rubble and shipping their lawn to Labrador.

5. I owe also a note of regret to the heirs and creditors of Mrs. Mabel Kropotkin, rest her soul, for inflicting a most grievous typographical error on them. I should have said message parlor, not massage parlor. As for my reference to her frilly pink teddy... What? Could you speak up? ...Well, as it turns out there was no mention of a frilly pink teddy at all! I was referring, of course, to her friendly pimp Freddie.

6. No apology would be complete without a bit of bowing and scraping in front of the hot dog industry. I never meant to equate hot dogs with furnace duct scrapings, although my mouth is beginning to water as we speak.

7. And how could I forget my heartless slur about the city of Sudbury, Ontario. The fact that this greasy mining products town looks like the backside of the moon is more than offset by the fact that Sudbury has the world's only fifteen-storey nickel and, consequently, the world's tallest payphones.

8. And let me be stricken down with terminal scrofula if I ever again imply that God sends me manna from the sky. In fact, God does not send me manna from the sky. However, I do enjoy those nice fruit and cheese baskets at Christmas. But a little less Limburger next year would be nice, seeing that it gives me gas. However, if it be Thy will that I have gas, I most heartily accept Thy Limburger.

9. There were, of course factual errors in my reportage: Last September's Pillar of Fire in fact took out two neighbor's houses, 14 mailboxes, 53 chickens, and the entire faculty of the University of Toronto, whose bus happened to be passing by our house on a slumming tour of non-Mensa neighborhoods. I am greatly sorry for the factual error.

10. Apologies also go to the entire book of Exodus, to its authors, and to everyone involved in the filming of the Ten Commandments, including Mr. Cecil B. DeMille himself, although I thought the stick-turning-into-a-snake bit was shamefully hokey.