Glory Days - Dim, Vanishing Recollections (from Lao Du)

     I’m fadin’ fast.  Real fast.  Warp speed.  Sure,  I still play well against the moribund, the sclerotic and a few cachexic gomers, plus, if ya wanna know, I do extremely well against prepubertal girls who weigh less than 60 pounds.  But … I’m losin’ to some bums these days, chumps that I used to beat with my eyes closed.  In fact, I don’t call them “bums” and “chumps” anymore.  I call them gifted and accomplished players.  Hey, if they beat me, why not, because these bedwetters are killing me now.  (Ed. Now you duh bum! Your arrogance merits this rightful comeuppance. Yep, you’re the bum now, the chump … the bedwetter!)
     Yeah, so okay, I’m not sittin’ on a high horse these days.   It’s more like a miniature horse.  No more gloating with a photograph of me with my foot perched on a carcass after a kill.  Now I’m the vulnerable prey, and now I know what they mean by oh how the mighty have fallen. 
     I never really knew how inglorious and miserable it was to lose.  I do now:  it hurts.  So I want to apologize for all those years of of being what I suppose you’d call a bad winner.  To all those losers I taunted and made fun of as stupid or inept, I’m sorry.  Listen, now I have deep, heartfelt regrets about that.  I’m sorry to all of you out there that I killed, and for rubbing in the salt to the wounds afterward by saying that you were stupid or inept – or both - even if you were.  My humble apologies.  Lao Du
  
Editor:  That doesn’t sound like a sincere apology, and it doesn’t sound like our wonder boy has serious remorse. There’s certainly no humility wound up in this so-called apologetica.  It so happens that I played with Lao Du the other day, and this reinforced my feeling that Lao Du has not yet joined the righteous and virtuous despite this phony contrition of his.  Yes, he may no longer be a bad winner, as he put it but, unfortunately, he’s converted to being a sore loser.  I want you all to know that I beat the yutz three games to none, and then he threw a tantrum … AND his racket.  Oh, and he cried!  I’m also pretty sure he lied to his diary.