Gotham City’s Ladies’ Charitable Auxiliary Wishes to Apologize

We regret the unfortunate disruption at our recent “Jungle Cats” fashion gala. Odd as it may sound, we honestly did not foresee Catwoman’s appearance. Certainly, displaying a live jaguar at a crowded soirée showed poor judgment, but we are pleased to say the animal was recaptured without harm.

We are also sorry that Batman’s visit was necessarily so brief, and regret we are unable to convey our members’ thanks directly. We know how you would like to thank him and have similar private expressions of gratitude in mind. We have been advised rather forcefully that the Bat-Signal may not be used to issue cocktail invitations.

We likewise regret that Catwoman’s impromptu entrance revived so many traumatic memories from last year’s Catwalk for Charity, our auction of the Cat’s Eye Ruby, and our imprudently-named Catalyst for Change banquet. Upon reflection, we should really start a dog show.

We cannot, however, bring ourselves to apologize for Catwoman’s attack upon our spring charity auction because said auction had a “catalog.” I mean, really.

We are sorry that Poison Ivy saw fit to disrupt our annual orchid show once again. Our Board of Trustees has resolved not to discontinue this popular fundraiser simply because a costumed lunatic has attacked it three years out of the last five. The Gotham City Ladies’ Charitable Auxiliary refuses to let scantily-clad eco-terrorists win.

We are saddened by members’ anxieties about our upcoming Winter Carnival, but the Board is adamant. We will not end this cherished Gotham City tradition because the person calling himself “Mr. Freeze” feels a compulsion to botch yet another half-baked criminal scheme in a humiliatingly public way. We hereby renew our Club’s annual tradition of urging him to seek a competent psychotherapist.

Likewise, the Board will entertain no further proposals to cancel our annual Harvest Fair. We, too, regret that this wholesome, family-friendly event has so often been misconstrued as an invitation to chemical-weapons attack by some numbnuts dressed as a scarecrow. But we no longer feel our event programming is the problem.

We’re sorry we can’t have a pub trivia event without the Riddler holding us hostage. We’re sorry we cannot hold a black-tie event without an incursion by the Penguin. We will regret our encounter with the Joker until the day we die, but we were just playing cards, goddammit. It was bridge night! This is not on us.

Also, we’re sorry, but who the fuck is “Calendar Man?” Who knew that was even a thing? We were celebrating New Year’s Eve, like normal people in a functional city. Our mistake, it seems.

We repent the many donations we have solicited for the Gotham Police Benevolent Association. We regret from the depths our souls that our taxes pay these flatfooted goobers’ salaries. We cannot express our disappointment that the Gotham Police can neither stop nor briefly impede the endless procession of garishly-dressed sociopaths who gate-crash our events. The Fashion Police would keep us safer. Any grown man wearing a gumdrop-colored chalk-stripe suit really should be taken in for questioning.

We furthermore regret that the thirty million dollars we have raised over the years for Arkham Asylum have not been used to purchase even a single door that fucking locks

We are sorry to report that, despite our members’ enthusiasm, Batman has not accepted our repeated invitations. Not to our cocktail reception in the Gotham Zoo’s Bat House, not to our private performance of Die Fledermaus, not to our celebrity a capella version of Bat Out of Hell. We thought he’d interrupt that last one as a crime in progress, but no. We are sorry that you had to sit through that. We apologize for the guano in your Manhattans. We are pained to say that Commissioner Gordon, whose salary our taxes pay, would not permit use of the Bat-Phone to share our social availability. And, sorry not sorry, we are surprised our partners at the Wayne Foundation could not be more helpful. You know exactly what we’re talking about.

We are so, so sorry we didn’t move to Tampa when we had the chance. Our only problems would be hurricanes, ill-prepared shellfish, and whoever the fuck it is Aquaman fights. Feisty Tuna? Maladjusted Squid?

Most importantly, we would like to express our regrets to Batman himself. We are sorry you’ve been inconvenienced by felonies at our events the first and third Wednesdays of every month. (Thank goodness for our August break!) We regret glimpsing you so briefly before you vanish back into the night, only seeing your magnificently sculpted abs and thighs in moments of mood-killing mortal peril. And it saddens us that you’ve never brought a plus-one. We can make introductions! We’re particularly sorry if we’ve created any misapprehensions that may have frightened you off. We are not looking for a commitment, and keeping your mask on works for us.

Most of all, we are heartbroken to observe your stubborn infatuation with –one struggles to phrase this politely – a whip-toting kleptomaniac dressed like Betty Boop. But, alas, where she goes, you obsessively follow.

Therefore, with the deepest regret, we announce our upcoming benefit performance of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, sponsored by Princess Caterina of Catalonia. This event also features a Katacomb for Kiddies, Gotham City’s finest – and only – Cat Stevens cover band, and a live cheetah. We’re so sorry it has to be this way.