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

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 that Pit Bulls Find My Face So Delicious

I Regret Macklemore's Tweets

I Regret Killing All-Ages Music

We Regret We’re So Dumb

First and foremost, I regret being made the target of a prosecutorial witch hunt and the subject of vile slander by evil people who only want to bring a successful black man down and who wouldn't understand the true meaning of love if it bit them in their big, mean butts.

I do not regret wearing pajamas to court, but I do regret wearing those pajamas. The ones I wanted to wear have footies in them, but there was blood on the front.

I do not regret writing "In the Closet," "(Have You Seen My) Childhood," "Off the Wall," "Black or White," and "(I Want That) Hot Toddler," despite these beautiful pop songs being deliberately misconstrued and misinterpreted by those who seek to bring down a successful black man and wouldn't know love if it bit them on their big, mean butts.

I do regret wasting so much high-vintage Châteauneuf du Pape on the immature taste buds of ungrateful youngsters.

I do not regret wearing a form-fitting Lycra body stocking to my play date with dozens of underprivileged children at a Bahraini water park. However, I do regret wearing that form-fitting Lycra body stocking. The one I wanted to wear was pink, not white, but it had blood on the front.

Most of all, I regret the loss of my two great loves, Ms. Lisa Marie Presley and Ms. Debbie Rowe, two beautiful women who graced me with their precious love, and upon whose netherloins I repeatedly feasted, my attorney tells me.