Good afternoon. One week ago, I stood here and apologized for some ill-considered remarks I first apologized for two weeks ago. I would like to take this moment now to apologize for my last apology. I’m sorry. I’ll just say it: it was unacceptable.

However, I would like to separate this from the incident of my first apology, for which I have already apologized, many times, and which we have put behind us. I’m not saying sorry for that anymore.

That being said, I would like to say to the nation and the citizens of the great state of Connecticut that I apologize for letting these apologies monopolize my time. I’ve missed crucial votes and state functions and even my daughter’s birthday. I’m sorry, Susie.

This all started because I said some inappropriate things in a speech in this very building. For those of you who were offended, I’m sorry for bringing up that painful moment again. For those of you who missed those remarks, I apologize for any confusion. I immediately gave an apology the very next day, saying I was sorry for anyone I had hurt, but that my remarks were justified within their context.

I promptly came to regret that decision.

The next day, I gave a fiery speech attacking my first apology, calling myself a terrible person, and my remarks moronic. Many people thought I had taken it too far, and some people revealed that they agreed with my original, offensive remarks, and were mad I had taken them back. So I apologized to them, and then I was in trouble with the first people again, and then I went on TV and I … uh … I’m sorry … I’m lost. Let me just … I’m sorry.

(The senator’s papers fall to the floor and he bangs his head against the lectern just once.)

You know, when you’ve apologized as much as I have, you realize it’s bad to say things. Even about people and stuff you like, and that pretty much everyone else likes, because somewhere someone out there doesn’t like them, or the idea, or the logo we used on our memo, or my Halloween spider tie, or that I hugged that farmer without asking for permission, or when I laughed at that guy who fell in the aisle at the beginning of this speech. I want to apologize for all of that again, by the way.

People who are offended are always right, and we should apologize to them, all the time.

(An aide approaches and whispers in the senator’s ear.)

Apparently, I’m also sorry for using the word “apology” so much this evening. I wrote the speech myself and I apologize I’m not very good, but I thought it would be more sincere. I’m sorry I’m not Ben Stein or something.

And I’m sure I’m going to be sorry I just told a joke. I’m sure I’m sorry to Ben Stein, I’m sure I’m sorry to people who don’t get the joke, and I’m definitely going to be sorry to people who find Ben Stein offensive.

Finally, please. Just forgive me. Please leave me alone. I’m so very sorry about all of this, please, I don’t know how much sorrier I can be. I’ve given so many apologies, and donated to so many diverse charities, so I think I’ve pretty much established that everything I did was wrong and I’ve paid a high, high price, but it’s worth it, just to be done. Fuck! Oh, God, I’m so sorry about that. Oh, God, I’m going to be so sorry.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I ran for the Senate. I’m sorry no one told me there would be this much apologizing. Finally, I would like to apologize for running overtime. I just had so much I wanted to apologize for. I hope I haven’t inconvenienced anyone, but if I have, please, I’m sorry.