It’s the most wonderful time of the year. Yes, the High Holy Days are upon us, when good little Jews try to atone for their sins so God will bring them presents. No, wait, it’s so He won’t kill them. Man, we really lucked out holiday-wise when we decided not to make the jump to Christianity.
Good Jews use these days to apologize to those they’ve hurt in the past year. But I am at best a C- Jew—at this point I’m in it for potato pancakes and days off from work—and I hate admitting that I’m wrong, so the best I offer is some half-assed apologies for things I’m not really that sorry for. As the Torah requires, I post them on the internet.
HALF-ASSED APOLOGIES FOR THINGS I’M NOT REALLY THAT SORRY FOR
To everyone: I’m sorry I haven’t gotten anyone a present in, like, a year. I’m poor. Just stop having birthdays until I get a full-time job, okay?
To my neighbor: I’m sorry for whatever I did that made you stop playing Eye of the Tiger on your trumpet. Why would you ever stop that?
To that guy: I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls.
To that other guy: I’m sorry I gave you a fake number.
To that other, other guy: I’m sorry I kept texting you. I didn’t realize “I’m in New Haven” meant “I’m going out with someone else.”
To eligible bachelors who are not those guys: Call me! I’m a catch.
To the Danes I met last week: You all looked like Ken dolls. Still, that was no excuse to mock you for being from a country that rolled over to Hitler after three days, and I’m sorry.
To my parents: This actually happened years ago, but I’m not sure I ever really apologized for it, so: I’m sorry I ran the car into a wall.
I’m sorry I ran the car into another wall.
I’m sorry I ran the car into a fence. (Didn’t know about that one, did you?)
To my sister: I’m sorry I cried so much when making a toast at your wedding. I was just so happy you married an English guy so I can make Revolutionary War jokes for the rest of your life.
To my brother-in-law: I’m sorry I make so many Revolutionary War jokes about you. I will never, ever, ever stop.
To God: I’m sorry you’re pretend.
To my enemies: I regret nothing.
Bring on 5770, bitches!
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What I’m atoning for this year
It’s the most wonderful time of the year. Yes, the High Holy Days are upon us, when good little Jews try to atone for their sins so God will bring them presents. No, wait, it’s so He won’t kill them. Man, we really lucked out holiday-wise when we decided not to make the jump to Christianity.
Good Jews use these days to apologize to those they’ve hurt in the past year. But I am at best a C- Jew—at this point I’m in it for potato pancakes and days off from work—and I hate admitting that I’m wrong, so the best I offer is some half-assed apologies for things I’m not really that sorry for. As the Torah requires, I post them on the internet.
HALF-ASSED APOLOGIES FOR THINGS I’M NOT REALLY THAT SORRY FOR
To everyone: I’m sorry I haven’t gotten anyone a present in, like, a year. I’m poor. Just stop having birthdays until I get a full-time job, okay?
To my neighbor: I’m sorry for whatever I did that made you stop playing Eye of the Tiger on your trumpet. Why would you ever stop that?
To that guy: I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls.
To that other guy: I’m sorry I gave you a fake number.
To that other, other guy: I’m sorry I kept texting you. I didn’t realize “I’m in New Haven” meant “I’m going out with someone else.”
To eligible bachelors who are not those guys: Call me! I’m a catch.
To the Danes I met last week: You all looked like Ken dolls. Still, that was no excuse to mock you for being from a country that rolled over to Hitler after three days, and I’m sorry.
To my parents: This actually happened years ago, but I’m not sure I ever really apologized for it, so: I’m sorry I ran the car into a wall.
I’m sorry I ran the car into another wall.
I’m sorry I ran the car into a fence. (Didn’t know about that one, did you?)
To my sister: I’m sorry I cried so much when making a toast at your wedding. I was just so happy you married an English guy so I can make Revolutionary War jokes for the rest of your life.
To my brother-in-law: I’m sorry I make so many Revolutionary War jokes about you. I will never, ever, ever stop.
To God: I’m sorry you’re pretend.
To my enemies: I regret nothing.
Bring on 5770, bitches!