W’s statement the other day, that “to the extent that it was the Federal Government’s fault,” he will take responsibility, inspired me. I haven’t heard an apology that good since Clinton begrudgingly apologized to the nation for the Monica thing. So I have decided that if the President can put caveats around his apologies, so can I. Screw what my mama taught me about “owning up” to my mistakes. Mama Bush obviously never taught W that, and hey, she’s the best mother of all, right?
So today, my boss called me in his office and he said, “You’re the head of marketing, tell me why we aren’t getting any press.” I was about to confess that I had been slow to send out a press release on our latest product launch because I was off playing guitar with my buddy in California (I have a nice photo of me with this fat acoustic thing strapped around my shoulder) when I remembered what W said.
“To the extent that marketing is responsible for our lack of press, I accept responsibility,” I said.
Amazingly, he said “Good enough.” My boss thinks Marketing can do no wrong, because we believe in “hard work,” and “staying the course,” when it comes to building our brand. We are resolute in our commitment to not pull out of any campaigns we have going, even if we are in markets that don’t want us there. Like Iraq.
Then later, the head of our board called my boss and said, “Why is business down?” My boss, remembering W himself, said, “To the extent that my division is responsible for business being down, I accept responsibility.”
W has done the corporate world so much good, and I’m not just talking about those no-bid contracts to his buddies for rebuilding New Orleans.
When I came home tonight, I found an earring on my pillow. It was not mine. So when hubby came home, I said, “What the fuck?” And I held up the earring.
“To the extent that someone may have left an earring on your pillow that does not belong to you and therefore was left there in questionable circumstances, I accept responsibility.”
So I clobbered him over the head with one of my Prada shoes. The heel was quite heavy and left a nice reminder of his responsibility.
The police came. An officer asked, as he was handcuffing me, “What did you do???”
“To the extent that my husband is responsible for getting what he deserves, I accept responsibility.”
Unfortunately, I don’t know any high-powered lawyers who are friends of Bush, so this partial responsibility thing may not work out. Unless I get a Republican judge, then he will probably appreciate my defense.
