David Brock isn't done apologizing.
Before I came to Washington, I was editor of the Daily Californian, the student newspaper at Berkeley, where I was reviled for endorsing the U.S. invasion of Grenada. But what about the other editors of the Daily Cal who couldn't say they'd been martyred at a campus once renowned for its leftism? They were denied my entree into the world of conservative journalism. And what of the kid who didn't get into Berkeley because I got his place? Did he have to settle for UCLA, Santa Cruz or, God forbid, one of the Cal State campuses?
Iam gay. This is not fair to womankind. My unborn children will never appear on the Today show.
After much painful introspection, I realize that all of creation would have been better off if I had never been born. The classic Frank Capra film, It's a Wonderful Life, tells us that the lives of ordinary people benefit those of countless others in ways of which they are hardly aware. But what of the lives of Nietzschean supermen like me? I am well aware of my deplorable lack of humility, generally considered a crucial component of any sincere apologia. I apologize for my sin of pride.
I would like to apologize to the sperm that were unfairly defeated in the race to penetrate my mother's ovum. Sorry, fellas.
P.S.: Oh, Anita, sorry about that book. Let's have lunch.
Timothy Noah is a former Slate staffer. His book about income inequality is The Great Divergence.