We Regret These Errors

We Regret These Errors

Sorrowful Remorse

From the Desk of the Enumclaw Horse

From the Desk of Katie Holmes's Fetus

From the Desk of Former Monorail Director Joel Horn

Dept. of Corrections

I Regret Not Killing Benjamin Colton Barnes Before He Got to That Park Ranger

I Regret Those Girls in Roslyn

I Regret Republicans Giving Me a Bad Name

I Regret That Señor Romney Lost the Election

We Regret These Errors.

We Regret These Erors

From the Desk of Michael Jackson

I Regret Being Consigned to Eternal Damnation with the Guy Who Drew The Family Circus

I Regret Not Taking Out Lance Armstrong

We Regret Mentioning Suicide, Publishing Essays about Suicide, and Placing Visual Depictions of Suicide on Our Cover

I Regret Nothing

From the Desk of J. Edgar Hoover

We Wish to Announce Several Regrets (We Wish to Announce Several Regrets)

What You Think About When You Think About Chile

I Regret What's Happening to This City

That Sculpture Is a Stain on Our Reputation

I Regret Not Being Considered Food and Offer, for Your Enjoyment, This Recipe

A Guide to the Jokes in This Issue for the Staff of Gawker

Please Allow Me to Set the Record Straight

I Regret Rehab

I Regret Macklemore's Tweets

I Regret Killing All-Ages Music

We Regret We’re So Dumb

Rob Ullman

I guess I should count my blessings. At least I wasn't killed, like that month-old girl in Mississippi who died of massive head trauma after a pit bull munched her skull, or, God forbid, raped like that toddler in New York who was sodomized by his family's pit bull. At least I've still got my life, my virginity, and most of my face. Mommy says they can do great things with reconstructive surgery these days. Still, I have my regrets. Mostly I regret knowing what it feels like when a dog decides to eat your face. I don't eat faces. I eat applesauce. Can you spoon some into my neck shunt?