There have been times in my life when I felt the sting of guilt due to words I've spoken and indeed actions I've taken. It's not unusual for me to feel remorse for something I've done, and to chide myself for it afterward. No, not unusual at all -- just extremely rare.
And that's not to say that I participate in the type of behavior that might cause guilt infrequently. No, I behave poorly all the time. I just rarely experience any guilt from it.
But I feel there are some things I must confess now that TAM3 is over, and I hope you all -- whether affected directly by my antics or indirectly -- will not judge me too harshly, and maybe someday see fit to invite me back into your circle.
First, I want to confess to sabotaging portions of the TAM presentations. I was having a bit of fun at everyone's expense. You see, I installed a dimmer switch at my table so that each time Christopher Hitchens cleared his throat or said the word "umm", I turned the stage lights off. It was annoying to you all, I know, but I had a good silent laugh each time the lights went off. And the dimmer switch worked so much better than the Clapper, which was my initial plan. I was also responsible for every single incidence of microphone malfunction, as well as the plumbing problems in the men's restroom, Rick Maue's pony tail, Teller sneezing into the mike, ver Ploeg's missing PowerPoint presentation, Penn’s leather pants, Michael Shermer's shoes, and Phil Plait's . . . uh . . . "jokes".
Wow, it feels good to get this off my chest. So let me keep going.
I'd also like to apologize for sending the transvestite prostitutes to Richard Dawkins’ room every night of the conference at 3am. That stunt was completely uncalled for. Everyone knows he’s into fat chicks.
Plus, it would do my heart good to unburden it of the fact that Renata’s feet were black on Friday night because of another little stunt I pulled. Sorry about that, Renata. And I’m sorry I used permanent marker ink. If you’re worried, I talked to a chemist who assured me that though the ink won’t come off with soap and water, in time, several layers of your skin will simply wear away and in a few years, your feet should start to look normal again.
And in the same vein, Rebecca, the Love Potion that you drank from the little wax bottle tasted so awful due to another of my practical jokes. I thought it would be funny to fill the bottle with something that tasted really bad, but I guess I took the joke just a little too far. Sorry. Oh, and you only have five days to live. Again, sorry. My bad.
I should also go ahead and confess some things about me personally. You were all so nice to me, and I feel I’ve deceived each of you in some small way. For example, as many of you discovered for the first time, my name is not really “Philâ€. Although, in my heart I’m more Phil than any of you will ever know, and if I could do something to really become Phil, instead of the wooden puppet I am now, I would. But I digress.
In addition to not really being Phil, I must confess a few other deceptions that I perpetrated over the weekend. The laugh I used so readily while among you -- that wonderful music that flowed from my mouth so easily at your wit, your humor, and your misfortune -- was fake. Yes, I’m not proud of it, but all weekend in Vegas, I used my fake laugh. By the way, if you don’t have a fake laugh, get yourself one. They’re invaluable.
Also, I’m really left handed, although I was taking notes and eating with my right hand. My eyes are not really brown, they just look brown. I didn’t really do a stretch in the pokey for robbing a casino in the 1960’s like I said I did, it was in the 1970s. It wasn’t really a great pleasure to meet three of the people to whom I said it was, but merely a regular pleasure. I drank 14 cups of coffee on Saturday and didn’t brush my teeth afterward, I double dipped my egg roll at the Thai restaurant, I’m the one who left the seat up, I couldn’t find a dry towel so I wiped my hands on the curtains in my room, those weren’t my panties that I wore in the hot tub Friday night, my cab driver was a better kisser than I expected he would be, and my breasts are not real. Although I suspect you all were aware of that last one all along.
Whew, I feel so much better now. Thanks for letting me open up.
By the way, if any of you have anything to confess from TAM3, feel free to add it to this thread.
And that's not to say that I participate in the type of behavior that might cause guilt infrequently. No, I behave poorly all the time. I just rarely experience any guilt from it.
But I feel there are some things I must confess now that TAM3 is over, and I hope you all -- whether affected directly by my antics or indirectly -- will not judge me too harshly, and maybe someday see fit to invite me back into your circle.
First, I want to confess to sabotaging portions of the TAM presentations. I was having a bit of fun at everyone's expense. You see, I installed a dimmer switch at my table so that each time Christopher Hitchens cleared his throat or said the word "umm", I turned the stage lights off. It was annoying to you all, I know, but I had a good silent laugh each time the lights went off. And the dimmer switch worked so much better than the Clapper, which was my initial plan. I was also responsible for every single incidence of microphone malfunction, as well as the plumbing problems in the men's restroom, Rick Maue's pony tail, Teller sneezing into the mike, ver Ploeg's missing PowerPoint presentation, Penn’s leather pants, Michael Shermer's shoes, and Phil Plait's . . . uh . . . "jokes".
Wow, it feels good to get this off my chest. So let me keep going.
I'd also like to apologize for sending the transvestite prostitutes to Richard Dawkins’ room every night of the conference at 3am. That stunt was completely uncalled for. Everyone knows he’s into fat chicks.
Plus, it would do my heart good to unburden it of the fact that Renata’s feet were black on Friday night because of another little stunt I pulled. Sorry about that, Renata. And I’m sorry I used permanent marker ink. If you’re worried, I talked to a chemist who assured me that though the ink won’t come off with soap and water, in time, several layers of your skin will simply wear away and in a few years, your feet should start to look normal again.
And in the same vein, Rebecca, the Love Potion that you drank from the little wax bottle tasted so awful due to another of my practical jokes. I thought it would be funny to fill the bottle with something that tasted really bad, but I guess I took the joke just a little too far. Sorry. Oh, and you only have five days to live. Again, sorry. My bad.
I should also go ahead and confess some things about me personally. You were all so nice to me, and I feel I’ve deceived each of you in some small way. For example, as many of you discovered for the first time, my name is not really “Philâ€. Although, in my heart I’m more Phil than any of you will ever know, and if I could do something to really become Phil, instead of the wooden puppet I am now, I would. But I digress.
In addition to not really being Phil, I must confess a few other deceptions that I perpetrated over the weekend. The laugh I used so readily while among you -- that wonderful music that flowed from my mouth so easily at your wit, your humor, and your misfortune -- was fake. Yes, I’m not proud of it, but all weekend in Vegas, I used my fake laugh. By the way, if you don’t have a fake laugh, get yourself one. They’re invaluable.
Also, I’m really left handed, although I was taking notes and eating with my right hand. My eyes are not really brown, they just look brown. I didn’t really do a stretch in the pokey for robbing a casino in the 1960’s like I said I did, it was in the 1970s. It wasn’t really a great pleasure to meet three of the people to whom I said it was, but merely a regular pleasure. I drank 14 cups of coffee on Saturday and didn’t brush my teeth afterward, I double dipped my egg roll at the Thai restaurant, I’m the one who left the seat up, I couldn’t find a dry towel so I wiped my hands on the curtains in my room, those weren’t my panties that I wore in the hot tub Friday night, my cab driver was a better kisser than I expected he would be, and my breasts are not real. Although I suspect you all were aware of that last one all along.
Whew, I feel so much better now. Thanks for letting me open up.
By the way, if any of you have anything to confess from TAM3, feel free to add it to this thread.
