Regret

When relatives recently re-researched his family tree, thoroughly Caucasian Ted learned that a few generations back, his however-many-great grandmother was a black slave. Well, that or a slave owner. Ted hopes it was the slave, though, because that would help his aspirations of being a hip hop superstar. Not that I think his race would have any impact on his talent, but the recording industry is a biased business. Moreover, however, Ted hopes his ancestor is the slave because he doesn't want to feel guilty.

Come on, now. Don't we all regret something we haved owned? The first CD I ever bought was the Rembrandts. Sure, I rocked out to it at the time, but aside from that one "Friends" song, I am rightfully mortified in retrospect. My sibling owns literally hundreds of Beanie Babies. Years ago, she thought they were cute and wanted to possess as many as possible; since then, she realizes what a truly unconscionable idea that was.

It's like that pair of pants that seemed to fit nicely while at the store. Once you get a good look in the mirror, you realize that slavery just makes you look fat.

(Oh, relax, it's called litotes. Look it up.)