Ross Murray's Border Report
Ross Murray
Ross Murray
is a freelance writer living in Stanstead, Quebec. You can reach him at
Posted 04.30.05
Stanstead, Quebec


Let me say right now that I'm sorry about that

Paul Martin's sincere yet desperate apology last week concerning his lack of vigilance over the sponsorship program was inspiring. I think we all know what he was going through.

Who among us hasn't been really, really sorry (meaning really, really hoping to avoid punishment), for instance, after coming home to an exasperated spouse who is ready to throw you out because you've yet again turned up drunk, belligerent, and both shaven and tattooed in places you weren't when you went out? Hello…?

In fact, Paul Martin's humble plea has inspired me to come clean for my own transgressions.

First, and most pressing, I would like to apologize to my boss for not immediately deleting that e-mail and instead accidentally forwarding it to everyone in my address book. I should have been more vigilant in how I handled the obviously embarrassing and potentially slanderous content. I had merely meant to send it to my home e-mail address for future reference when it came time to taking down the malcontents and ne'er-do-wells who are feeding this malaise within the company.

I can only imagine how my boss - a fine upstanding individual whose personal hygiene has never come into question as far as I'm concerned - must have felt upon seeing himself referred to as "numb-nuts."

I would like to assure my competent and not-at-all-moronic boss that I plan to cooperate fully in uncovering the original source of this terrible personal attack. I mean, your nose looks nothing like that! In the meantime, you will find me in my new office next to the boiler room where, honestly, I have been perfectly comfortable since this incident first came to light.

Next, I would like to say "I'm sorry" to my aunt for the unfortunate turn of events at her birthday party. I had been told by Cousin Roy that you liked such surprises. How was I to know you were so deathly allergic?

While I take full responsibility for my actions and have already offered to pay the ambulance bill, I believe that I am just as much a victim here as anyone. At the heart of this matter, I'm convinced, is a desire by some less than scrupulous individuals to eliminate certain members of the family from my aunt's will, which I sincerely hope she has not altered as a result of this incident.

I would also like to apologize to all former girlfriends who completely turned off men as a result of dating me. Knowing what I've learned this past year by trolling various alumni association guest books, I am sorry that I wasn't more sensitive and less prone to telling my buddies all the juicy details. Invitations to fumble in the backseat of cars were misdirected and misused. That's unacceptable. To make sure it does not happen again, I have ceased taking relationship advice from Maxim magazine. I have destroyed all video evidence. And I have taken a good hard look at myself in the mirror and realized that tank tops aren't for me.

Moving on, I would like to apologize to the 1986 Boston Red Sox for blowing Game 6 of the World Series. That was me in the stands who yelled out "Hey, Buckner! Whatever you do, don't ruin an otherwise splendid baseball career by becoming synonymous with the word 'goat,'" just as Mookie Wilson singled. Didn't mean to distract you. Sorry.

Finally, I would like to apologize in advance to readers for next week's column on bovine same-sex marriage. It will be in bad taste and not particularly funny (except for the part about the duck and the subpoena) but I am under tremendous pressure from my editor to produce copy on deadline, even when I'm fighting a hangover and still stinging from the new tattoos. I am prepared to face the subscribers and have them judge my response to this serious test of readership. I am really, really, really sorry. Please don't hurt me.