I apologize.

Loyal readers of Reasons I'm a Bad Adult (the 8 or 9 of you):

You all assuredly have heard about the personal troubles my fellow entertainer David Letterman has been having. A blackmailer caught him with his pants down, so to speak, and he decided to nip the problem in the bud by fessing up on national television. And it worked. Yes, his public admission of guilt on the Late Show was a success. It was sincere and funny, but, most importantly, it was great for ratings! Viewership shot up fivefold when the nation saw that this great comedian was vulnerable and human. In that self-centered, fame-obsessed spirit, I've got some apologies of my own to make.

First, I want to apologize for the opening sentence of that last paragraph. If you take a second look at it, you'll notice that I called Letterman "my fellow entertainer." To call him my "fellow" anything is a huge gaffe on my part, and I could not be more remorseful. To be perfectly candid, as I feel I must in such a public forum, my true "fellow" entertainers are something more akin to childrens' clowns and open-mic folk singers. Dave created The Top Ten List; in high school I used to have my classmates gather round me and have my buddy Zack kick me in the stomach. See? I'm sullying Letterman's name by just mentioning him. So I offer my humblest apologies to all those I caused pain when I insinuated that Dave Letterman and I were colleagues, including Mr. Letterman himself, his family, the whole Late Show staff (especially those he had sex with), and my loyal readers (hopefully it will be more than just the 8 or 9 of you once the news of this mea culpa spreads).

Next, I must apologize for the tardiness of this joke, the staleness of this premise. I mean, this whole Letterman thing happened, what, like two or three weeks ago? For the love of God, I wrote about the balloon boy the very same day he fake-floated away. But I decide to crack a Letterman joke almost a month after everyone else stopped talking about him? I have no one to blame but myself. Sure, I could tell you that I've been too busy, that I've been dating someone new, that I've been working on a soon-to-be-completed novel, that I recently got promoted at my job. Yes, I could tell you those things, but I would be lying. Because none of those things are true. I simply wasn't quick or smart enough to come up with a worthwhile idea for a post at the time, so here's something semi-worthwhile a few weeks down the line. That was wrong and lazy of me, and I'll be the first person to admit it.

And finally, let me apologize for taking advantage of Mr. Letterman's misfortune. What kind of vain, shallow, hateful person would use a celebrity's private pain to further his own career? Me. What kind of empty, soulless, vile husk of a man would exploit a talk show host's admirable candor in order to gain a few more readers for his middling, low-brow blog? Me. What kind of wine goes with a fine veal scallopini? Cru Beaujolais. You get the point; I'm exploiting the guy.

So, again, I'm sorry. And tell your friends.

--Tony