I regret that I’m not a cat or I would say, “I regret that I have but nine lives to give to my country.”

I regret that I have but one bumper to put a “My Country: Right or Wrong” sticker on.

I regret that I have but one right fist to shake at the enemies of America.

I regret that I have but two elbows to refuse to bend to tyranny.

I regret that I had but 173 chances to say, “I’m Nathaniel Hale, secret agent,” because it only gets better every time.

I regret that I have but four legs to stand for America. You heard right; when my country needs it, my arms double as extra legs.

I regret that but one time when my fourth grade teacher asked if anyone needed to go to the bathroom but I thought she had asked if anyone could demonstrate the homework problem so I said, “Me! Me! Oh… nevermind,” and everyone thought I had pooped my pants.

I regret that I have but two incredibly juicy asses. Oh, it’s just one? There’s so much of it, I wasn’t sure.

I regret that I have but one head to wear a “These Colors Don’t Run” baseball cap.

I regret that King George has but one mother for me to have totally done.

I regret that I have but one quote anyone knows about.

I regret that I have but two thumbs to stick in the air when I think about George Washington.

I regret that I have but one chance to offer a high five to the executioner while I’m on the gallows and then say, “Hey, don’t leave me hanging!”

I regret that I have but one vuvuzela to play very loudly at soccer games.

I regret that I have but one neck because that’s how many usually get broken during hangings.

I regret that once I thought a girl really liked me and I went up to her in front of everyone and was like, “So… when can I pick you up for the dance?” and it turned out she already had a boyfriend and everyone knew it but me.

I regret that I had but one day until retirement.

I regret that while I have many American flag lapel pins, you’re only ever supposed to wear but one American flag lapel pin.

I regret that I have but one backyard in which to host a lipsmacking barbecue.

I regret that when the warden asked how I was doing and I answered, “Well, no noose is good news,” I got but one halfhearted chuckle.

I regret that I have but three alphabetized filing cabinets in which to put America first.

I regret that I got but no chances to shoot a British spy in the head and say, “Mark as red.”

I regret that I wrote the sentence “British people are gullible” but once upon the ceiling.

I regret that I have but one recipe for seven layer dip that I bring to every party.

I regret that I have but one foot to stomp out tyranny.

Oh, nevermind. I just noticed there’s a second foot just next to it. Ignore that last regret.

I regret that I wrote both of those in pen.

I regret that I only but now thought of the nickname “Halestorm.”

I regret that I have but one or two more cool, patriotic-sounding regrets.

I regret that I made but one mistake: messing with America. Whoops, I made another typo. That one’s YOUR regret.

I regret that I came for but two reasons: to chew bubble gum and to die for America. I also regret that I have no bubble gum.

Okay, fine I regret that I got caught by the British while spying. You happy?


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