PISSING VINEGAR Vol. 10: Sorry
December 2001

Okay, here's the situation...

There are times in these complicated lives we lead when we must reflect back on the things we've said and done. And sometimes we find that what we see can be a little unsettling. Now, I've always prided myself on being a bit of a smartass. As such, I've said some cruel things about a lot of things/people/places in my life. Now I have come to the realization that while some extremely funny moments have come out of these bursts of creativity, many people's feelings have been hurt as a result. I will now attempt to reconcile. My heartfelt apologies to the following....

To Fred Durst: I'm sorry for all the negative things I have said about you in the past. Who am I to prey on a man's weaknesses, and exploit them for anyone who wants to listen? And besides, it's not your fault you're a whiny little punk ass bitch whose career is falling out of the stratosphere faster than an engine breaking off an American Airlines passenger jet and plummeting towards Queens. I shouldn't have criticized you when your last album sucked hairy donkey balls. And even though I would have rather belly flopped naked into a vat of hydrochloric acid than watch the video for "Boiler", I probably should have kept those feelings to myself. And just because the only way you can earn any shred of street credibility with your mic skills is to get Method Man high on crystal meth and suck your pencil dick, then blackmail him into guesting on one of your tracks, who... are we... to judge you? And so what if you completely desecrated the spirit of the perfectly fine benefit single "What's Going On?" by whining out "Let me break it down for a minute"? It's your decision, and I cannot bear to berate you for that.

To Liam Gallagher: I'm sorry I've had this hate on for you since the beginning. I didn't read the whole story before springing to judgment. I didn't know that the reason you wrote off all my favorite bands as dogshit was because you're a pretentious English prick whacked out on coke and speed, who doesn't even have the capability to carry on a civil conversation with his own brother, and therefore isn't inclined to say a nice thing about anybody besides yourself. Had I known all of this prior, I wouldn't have said such terrible things about you. Remember? Things like, "I hope Geri Halliwell catches you doing the Hand Lotion Shuffle to an Erasure video, becomes enraged, and sticks your undeserved platinum record for 'Morning Glory' straight up your musty ass"? Or how about, "What a blessing it would be if you someday looked into the mirror and saw yourself for the selfish, spoiled rotten, ungrateful cocksmoker that you are, became enraged, and stuck a 30-ot-30 straight down your fucking throat and sprayed your brains out through your arse"? Well, I shouldn't have said those things. And I'm sorry. I don't want you to kill yourself, as that would lead to the inevitable and incessant stream of tribute albums. Mr. Gallagher, nobody wants that.

To Ben Stiller: I am eternally sorry for making fun of the motion picture "Zoolander". I shouldn't have lowered myself to the level of a ctach-phrase grubbing critic, waiting for the fall of a career that has been so engrossing. I mean, you've done a very admirable job of taking a ginsu to your career as it is, why do you need me kicking you when your down on your knees sucking Lorne Michaels' cock for a spot on SNL (Oh please please please let me be Mango, Mr. Michaels)? You don't need the hassle from me. You probably hear enough of it in the form of pointing and laughing from all your ex-girlfriends. So what if you've officially changed your business card from "comedian" to "gay icon"? There's certainly nothing wrong with sucking cock. It's just not for me. Mr. Stiller, we can co-exist in this global village, you and me. You go suck some cock. I'll go to a Bruce Willis movie. Everybody wins.

To Britney Spears: I will never live down the day I called you a slut. That was totally out of line, and I cannot begin to express my deepest regrets over that statement. It was a momentary lapse of reason on my behalf. I didn't realize that since you get paid so well for those PG-13 stripteases, you're actually a whore. I know you would never lower yourself to such a dispicable standard as free sex. Please accept this check for ten dollars and my sincerest apologies.

To N-Sync: I'm sorry to all of you for being so harsh. I was only really angry at Justin, for nailing Britney Spears on a regular basis. I shouldn't have taken it out on the rest of you. By the way, it's okay that your last album was the most pathetic excuse for music ever unleashed on an unsuspecting group of pre-teen girls. We all deserve a second chance, and I'm sure you'll do much better at your new jobs, as concession stand workers at Disneyworld. I'll even try to bring exact change.

To The Backstreet Boys: I'm not sorry. You suck. Fuck off.

Well, I don't know about you, but I feel much better. It's very healthy to get these things off your chest, and it seems that every time I do I feel better and better. And the better I feel, the better I think. The better I think, the better the insult. The better the insult, the better the PV column. And the better the PV column, the happier YOU are. So, you see? I'm helping you. Everything will be fine. I'm here for you. Now fuck off, I've got shit to do.

I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that.

Here endeth the ePISSle.