Pardon Me

On Tuesday, I celebrated National Pardon Day by issuing mine. Pardon Payola was trading at an all-time high, so I was disappointed that I was unable to raise more money hawking pardons. My wife offered me a small stipend to leave her off the list and I may have to return that if she reads this sentence. Nevertheless, I pardoned my Kindergarten teacher for her scathing written assessment that I lacked “small motor skills.” I pardoned Barb Kimball for smashing an iceball in my face during a truce in the neighborhood snowball fight. I pardoned Margaret Crowley and Judy King for not falling in love with me. I pardoned my English teacher in Junior year of high school for announcing to the class that I would flunk out of college. I pardoned both team captains for making me the only unpicked player in a college tag football game. I pardoned Bill and Hillary Clinton for not living up to my naïve expectations. I am definitely not a Boston Red Sox fan, so I pardoned Bill Buckner for missing the routine ground ball that cost the Bosox the 1986 World Series championship. I pardoned my boss for vetoing a big promotion I was recommended for. I pardoned my co-worker Pete for stealing my work and submitting it as his own. I pardoned myself for stealing Neal Walden’s suggestion and submitting it as my own even though I was punished enough by how stupid an idea it turned out to be. Secret pardons are in fashion, so I issued some to avoid publicizing particulars that make me look bad. I still cannot pardon Russell Wilson for throwing the interception that cost the Seahawks a Super Bowl win in 2015. Maybe next National Pardon Day.