The Logistics of Renouncing Stuff
I contribute a weekly column to the Platte County Landmark under the “Rambling Moron” name. It’s a great Northland Newspaper and well worth a subscription. The following is an copy of my article which appeared in the 10/19/12 edition – printed with permission.
THE LOGISTICS OF RENOUNCING STUFF
Recently, presidential candidate Mitt Romney renounced controversial remarks about the 47% of Americans, he contested, he wasn’t running for and would always be looking for a handout from the government. Immediately following those comments last month, Romney had multiple opportunities to clarify and he generally stood by the statement. It wasn’t until nearly a month later that Romney, in a Fox News interview, “renounced” them saying “this whole campaign is about the 100%.”
Regardless of if you think this is a wise political strategy that might be timed to take advantage of a popularity swell following a good showing at the first debate, I’m in nothing but admiration of the ability to simply “renounce” comments.
What’s the logistics behind renouncing something? Do little elves wipe the comment away from all texts? Does Scott Bakula Quantum Leap back in time to change the statement? Does Will Smith blink that little pen thingy to erase your memories?
There are hundreds of comments I’d have liked to “renounce” throughout my life. Where do I sign up for it? Is there a cost? Do I fill out an online form and link it to a PayPal account? Because I’d like to get a piece of that.
So here goes… A somewhat comprehensive list of things that I’d love to renounce:
1) I would like to renounce my comments to a young female woman, on the night of my 21st Birthday, when I quietly explained to her that I do, in fact, know how to Cabbage Patch. I regret the error.
2) I would like to renounce my comments and subsequent actions last year at Kelly’s Westport Inn to another woman, this one not quite as young, who insisted she see my belly button. I apologize that you passed out. I regret the error and would like to renounce my actions. It’s also possible that she never, in fact, asked to see my belly button.
3) While we’re at it, if we can renounce pretty much everything I’ve said and/or done near or while under the influence of alcohol. That will shorten this column and clear up items 4 through 1,391.
1392) I wholeheartedly renounce my comments to editor Ivan Foley when I mentioned to him that “sure, I can write, I’m a writer.” As evidenced by the previous year’s worth of columns in this space, that couldn’t have been further from the truth and I would like to apologize for those comments and renounce those comments.
1393) For just about everything I’ve ever said to my wife that has caused her to stomp off, I renounce those comments.
Okay, so we’re all square here now. Nothing more to renounce. Man, that feels great.
To celebrate, I think I’m going to have a beer and write a column. I can always renounce those comments next week.