The Emperor decrees that the phrase “my bad” shall not be used as a substitute for “I’m sorry”
I have been declared Emperor of the World. Let us not waste time explaining why or how; let’s all simply accept the fact that we are better off, as a result; hence, my next decree:
Emperor’s Decree No. 84: While the Emperor truly wishes to outlaw the phrase “my bad,” he will not. Not completely. (The Emperor realizes he has a tendency to go overboard with the number of phrases he loathes…) But, the phrase “my bad” is now illegal in situations where it is completely obvious that it is, in fact, the speaker’s…uh, “bad.” An example might be found in the Emperor’s numerous and nightmarish memories of the Philadelphia Eagles’ former quarterback, Randall Cunningham, throwing the ball sixteen miles away from the vicinity of his intended receiver (into the teeth of an elderly nun who was innocently and selflessly — she was more of a tennis fan, really — accompanying her orphanage students on a trip to the game) and then slapping himself on the chest and mouthing “my bad” as if he was doing mankind a noble service by virtue of the very admission. A more reasonable and un-hyperbolic example might be a situation in which a waiter drops a flaming entrée into the lap of a gentleman’s date, thereby igniting her dress and damning her to years of reconstructive surgery (not to mention robbing her of the ability to ever bear children), and proclaiming, penitently, that the accident is his “bad.” There simply will be no more of it in the Empire. If we can see that a mistake is yours and you extraneously proclaim it your “bad,” you will suffer. “My bad” does not, and never will, equate to “I’m sorry.”
The Punishment: Violators will — in homage to the delightfully evil creativity of the dreaded pirate Yellowbeard — be forced to eat their own lips.
Now, go forth and obey.
The Emperor will grace the world with a new decree each Tuesday morning.
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That’s a decree I can totally get on board with.
Most excellent. I thank you.