There are not many things I vehemently dislike — I mean besides religion, sex, death, politics, people, places, things I should have learned in school, and current events — but hearing pathetic assholes — even imaginary ones — saying something as meaninglessness and insipid and schoolgirl yucky as I'm so sorry really makes me want to indiscriminately exercise my second amendment rights to bear and discharge arms in the food court at the nearest mall.
Unfortunately, I live 30 minutes from the nearest Targets of opportunity, and by the time I arrive and open the trunk and unload the duffel bags, the rage has worn off, and I end up hobbling over to the ice rink to watch all the little Tonya Harding wannabes doing their quadruple over-and-unders and freestyle baton whackings to the applause of their parents. Not a Nancy Why me! Why me! Kerrigan impersonator among them.
You know what boondoggle pork barrel Demoblican or Republicrat ear mark I'd be willing to have my tax dollars going towards — besides universal health care, lifelong education, setting off the entire nuclear stockpile, or extending voting rights to fetuses and the brain dead? I'd like to fund a study of how many times I'm so sorry is uttered both in banal everyday existence and in the 24/7 boob tube reality show model that inspires what the NOMF™ knows and loves and is willing to send the neighbor kids off to war to protect.
What the fuck, people. You have no idea how sorry you really are. I get it, but why subject me to your sorry ass sorriness and expect me to commiserate by approving of your lack of self-esteem and total embrace of societal insincerity? Even Bill Clinton had sense enough to say I feel your pain to avoid looking like a faggoty sensitive plant on the insensitive planet ruled by morons for the people who elect them.
Trust me on this one. I used to be a Boy Scout, one merit badge from Eagle, and Boy Scouts are trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent. One out of twelve ain't bad.
Most people who say I'm so sorry don't give a shit, have never given a shit, and would probably never give a shit unless someone subjected them to enhanced interrogation procedures involving electrodes attached to their genitals after explaling that giving up strangers would never be enough, and even then they wouldn't give a shit about who they were giving up.
Whenever anyone tells me I'm so sorry, I usually respond with No you're not or Fuck you asshole or Oops the pigs or Euwww. This strategy works particularly well at funerals when receiving condolences. On occasion it leads to violence, but violence is preferable to becoming comfortably numb, which is exactly what is so sorry about people who say they are so sorry.