I protest. I actually posted “Matt***”, but my ISP notified me that my outbound asterisk quota has been exceeded for the day. Since I’m spiritually in Greenland, it’s actually tomorrow for me, so I can post them now.

And if that doesn’t get me out of the punishment, I’m warning you, I’m not without resources in my defense. I still have my copy of Church Dogmatics, and I’m not afraid to post entire pages of it to BHT. I’ve done it before.

Besides, you don’t want me to apologize. I believe I covered that already once, and you were specifically apologized to. But since the archives are no longer available, I will reproduce, in the extended entry, my famous post from August 25th of 2004, complete and unedited.

Original title: “Mea Culpa”

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry if my behavior has been offensive. I’m even sorry if this post is offensive.

I’m sorry that I mischaracterized Michael’s humor as an attack on me. I’m sorry that I wasn’t funny, consistent or coherent in my posts. I’m sorry that I wasn’t lucid. I’m sorry that I didn’t read everything I was responding to as thoroughly as I should have. I’m sorry that I dissed Piper, and please don’t take him off the sidebar; I like a lot of what he says. I’m sorry that I didn’t just leave things where they were this morning, Michael, when I wrote you directly. I’m sorry that I baited Philip. I’m sorry that I ignored Kurt. I’m sorry for all the times Alex and I talked past each other. I’m sorry, Jenny, that my ancestors couldn’t get along with the Catholic church in France and left for England. I’m sorry, Matthew, that my father left the Methodist church of his boyhood to later be ordained as a Conservative Baptist. I’m sorry that my grandparents were against interracial marriage, mixed bathing, alcohol and playing cards. I’m sorry, Bill, that I’m the only one in the family who cares for venison jerky. I’m sorry, Joell and Kent (and anyone else I’ve missed) that I didn’t say “hello” when you joined the bar. I’m sorry for all the people who used to post here and left. I’m sorry that Al Gore was cheated out of his chance to show just how lousy a wartime president he would make by an activist Supreme Court. I’m sorry for Alan Keyes. I’m sorry for prisoner abuses in Baghdad and human rights violations in Guantanamo. I’m sorry for Richard Nixon. I’m sorry Ronald Reagan had Alzheimer’s disease. I’m sorry that I flushed my son’s goldfish down the toilet before they were actually dead. I’m sorry for the cat I hit one night while I was driving home from a bar I shouldn’t have been in. I’m sorry for the lust in my heart. I’m sorry for the hatred, anger, bitterness, and cynicism of my posts, my instant messages, my emails, and my verbal comments. I’m sorry Debbie Colazzo moved to Phillipsburg when we were in the seventh grade. I’m sorry that I picked a fight with a girl in the 4th grade, and I’m sorry that I lost. I’m sorry that I waited until I was 25 to realize that my dad was a reasonably intelligent guy with lots of sound advice. I’m sorry he died 5 years later. I’m sorry that I don’t understand sanctification. I’m sorry that I don’t understand the Democratic platform. I’m sorry that I see George W. Bush’s Vietnam-era military service in the National Guard as an example of his youthful self-centeredness of which he seems to have repented from later in life, but I see John Kerry’s Naval career as just another example of liberal posturing. I’m sorry that I never got anywhere with The Passion of the Bob, which probably would have been a great short film. I’m sorry that I won’t get to any BHT meetups anytime soon, unless we all go to Bill’s for Labor Day. I’m sorry that I took this job; it’s probably going to kill me. I’m sorry that my eyes are failing, my gums are bad, and my arthritis is progressing. I’m sorry that I’m far less confident than I am articulate, and that I’m far less correct than I am confident. I’m sorry I piss everyone off. I’m sorry that I don’t know enough Greek to make sense of a lot of theology. I’m sorry that I don’t have any desire to learn Hebrew. I’m sorry that when I speak to my wife in Arabic, I frequently get the gender inflections and pronouns wrong. I’m sorry that I’ve put everyone in my life through so much misery, often in response to so much good that they have done for me. I’m sorry that Scott hasn’t done a Chick Translation in a while. I’m sorry Angus doesn’t post often enough. I’m sorry that I keep baiting Jack over MSN Messenger,, even though I know it gets him into trouble at work and with his wife. I’m sorry that I attempted to provide counsel and advice to Russell over instant message; I’m not qualified to do either. I’m sorry that I didn’t call Bill when I finally made it to his area on the 4th of July. I’m sorry that I didn’t stay in college, become a church music director, and gain valuable experience that would qualify me to speak on the subject of music in worship. I’m sorry I joined the PC-USA. I’m sorry that the PC-USA church I joined is morphing into a Willow Creek church. I’m sorry that my rare keen insights on many topics are buried under so much nonsense. I’m sorry that I posted an entire page of Church Dogmatics to the Tavern once, in flagrant violation of copyright laws, depriving Barth’s estate of much-deserved income. I’m sorry for those of you who missed it; it was one of my rare jokes that worked. I’m sorry I’m such a wreck. I’m sorry my theology is muddled and irrational.

I hope I didn’t miss anything, but if I did, I’m sorry for that.

I’m not sorry to be here, although I’m sorry if my being here is a problem. I’m not sorry to call Michael, Philip, Kurt, and the rest of you my friends. I’m not sorry that I read Capon, at Michael’s suggestion. I’m not sorry that I went to here Manning speak. I’m not sorry for the time I spent on BHT, either posting, reading, or doing technical stuff. I’m not sorry to have been a part of this, even if it’s been a badly broken, annoying part.

I hope you all can forgive me.