I apologize for running you over with my car. It was only twice. You got up afterward, so you were probably OK. I didn't tell my insurance company because I paid you cash for your inconvenience.
Actually, on thinking it over, it was four times since the first two were glancing blows because you kept running away. I believe it was a spiritual thing, that we were fated to meet in such a charged atmosphere, and I am willing to meet with you and a trusted advisor to settle this matter amicably -- though if I were you, I would stay out of the Green Street Parking Garage from now on, since I still intend to park there.
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I apologize to the citizens of Liechtenstein for mooning them on national television. I don't know what came over me. I've come so close to doing that before: in my first interview after the Janet Jackson incident; that time the protesters from PETA showed up at my dad's butcher shop when I was six; the 3 AM trip down Route 144 in the Eurovan with the cheerleading squad -- but something about the air in Vaduz that spring day (it must have been the laurel) made me shed my inhibitions and my trousers. It seemed so right, and now it seems so wrong. Prince Heinz-Adam II has suggested counseling, and I will consider his idea; in the meantime, since as long as I'm Ambassador I have diplomatic immunity, I will be keeping my post.
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Those plums you had in the refrigerator? Gone. Sorry.
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Words cannot express my shock at shooting you in the face. In fact, words should not express that shock. Considering my position, it would be more appropriate for you to apologize.
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Was that you running away from me on the Appalachian Trail last week? I really wasn't trying to hit you with my walking stick; I was trying to dislodge my food sack from the tree where I had hung it to keep it from the bears. And I really was naked for a reason that had nothing to do with your quite considerable physical attributes. If you wish to discuss this further, please contact me for my private email address.
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We laughed at the hollyhocks together
and then I sprayed them with lye.
Forgive me. I simply do not know what I am doing.
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I apologize for having nothing to apologize for. Oh, I know, you think I have lots of things to apologize for; but, see, here's the thing: If I apologize, you'll go on whining forever about how bad a President I was, how I was the worst ever (come on, seriously -- have you looked at Warren Harding's record?) and that's something that won't help the country one bit. No, I won't think of anything I've done wrong; and anything I might have done wrong is between me, Dick, Karl and those guys in The Hague who keep calling my private number. Hey, guys, I had Dick shoot that phone -- it doesn't work anymore.