I Repent With Ashes

I woke up today feeling very guilty. Ouch. Like Michael Steele, I have sinned. Not just once, which still would be bad enough, but repeatedly. In such things -- the main thing, really -- as speaking against Rush Limbaugh. This ought not be done!

So, after a restless night, tossing and turning, sweating through my nightclothes, and giving it a lot of thought and prayer -- tortured prayer -- my only option this morning, my sincere choice, is to apologize publicly to Rush, who really is a great American, the voice of all of us.

Rush-- Let me say this. Please, don't wave me off. I will feel much better just getting it out. Sir, I just got done thinking about the things I just got done saying. And the conclusion I've come to is one of regret, sorrow. I don't even recognize myself, it's so bad. I'm a shell. I try to look in the mirror and what I see isn't me.

I opened my mouth -- what I thought was my mouth. I spoke what I thought I was thinking -- but what I was thinking wasn't right. It came out a mish mash of what my deeper, more inward thought was. The words flowed forth easily enough, but hearing them, then examining them later, they weren't right. It's like I was possessed by something -- an alien force. Weird feeling.

Now, sir, I know that just saying 'I'm sorry' is not enough. Anyone could say that, but what this calls for is reflection and restitution, if possible. I will reflect, strenuously, on what could have possessed me -- I seriously don't know at this point. Are there alien forces that can possess? Demons? Ideological bacteria I might have picked up somewhere? This is something for me to mull over. With reflection will come an effort to make it right, to smooth your feathers and those of your loyal audience that have been so terribly ruffled.

In the future, my liege, I hope you will be satisfied with the things I have to say. For it is my sole intention that they reflect your views and most worthy desires.