My Bad, Darfur

Each year (or really, every 11 months and two weeks or so, kinda), the Jews observe Yom Kippur, the day of atonement, during which leather shoes and doing it are totally forbidden. Then there are many apologies. Let it begin with us! Herewith, Balk makes amends to some of the people he's hurt so horribly this year.

I'm not a big one for apologies, but the faith of my mothers insists that I atone, so atone I will. I've wronged some folks over the last year. Sorry 'bout that.

  • The people of Darfur. I guess there's something bad happening to you right now? Something I should be upset about enough to write my congressman or send money to someone? See, the thing is, I want to care about this, I really do, but the summer was totally hectic, and now with this new fall season... between "Gossip Girl" and "The Hills" alone I barely have enough room in my schedule for "me time," which I think you'll agree is the most important time of all. Tell you what, Darfur: If, come Christmas, you're still having trouble with whatever it is that's bothering you, drop me a line and I promise to at least read up on it. Actually, December's crazy for me, I turn 35, and then, you know there are the holidays. Maybe January. Some time after New Year's, but before the King holiday, which is when I do my annual spa retreat. But seriously, Darfur, I'm sorry. Please keep in touch.
  • Tony Snow. I think you might have accidentally caught the cancer I've been wishing on George W. Bush for the last seven years. My bad.
  • Band of Horses. I admit it, I downloaded your new record Cease to Begin. I promise to pay full price for it when it's released in stores, even if it does feel a little thin compared to the last one, which was AMAZING. I'm sorry; I'm going to listen to it over and over until I learn to love it.
  • Everyone in the office. You're going to be hearing a lot of the new Band of Horses in the near future. Be patient, it's a good record! I think!
  • Doree Shafrir. Choire just told me that my constant sexual harassment and my habit of referring to you as "toots," "sweetie," or "the other girl," were big factors in you leaving Gawker. That is so not what I wanted. Sorry, babe.
  • My Cock. I know I haven't put you on the site lately. Please don't start giving your material to anyone else, I'll try to get something by you up soon.
  • Choire. I know you hate the posts by My Cock, but, uh, expect some soon.
  • The Jews. When I'm tucking into my mouthwatering crackling pork shank at Maloney and Porcelli during lunch tomorrow, I promise to at least spare a thought for you guys. You'll probably be starving.