The Apology Tour America Deserves

While Congress Considers Hearings, It’s Time for a Rolling National Confession Tour

As calls grow louder for congressional hearings into “what did they know, and when did they know it” regarding President Biden’s mental decline while in office, one thing is abundantly clear: we don’t need months of subpoenas, grandstanding, and televised committee drama to understand what happened on his watch.

The damage is already done—and it’s not theoretical. It’s visible. Tangible. Measurable. The American people lived through it, and no number of classified memos or redacted testimonies can replace what a simple, straightforward act could accomplish: an apology.

Hold some hearings? Sure. But let’s also get straight to the reckoning—not in the form of political theater on Capitol Hill, but in a more honest, slightly theatrical, and long-overdue Apology Tour.

This is not a book launch. Not a farewell junket. Not a Netflix docuseries. It’s a 50-state confessional booth on wheels, where three key players from the Biden era should travel across the country by bus and finally do what they never did while in power: tell the truth.

Who’s on the apology tour?

Alejandro Mayorkas

The architect of America’s border bedlam should be handed a microphone, a folding chair, and a long list of sheriffs, ICE agents, Border Patrol officers, National Guardsmen, and emergency room nurses—all of whom deserve a personal apology for what has become their multi-year nightmare. Not a tweet. Not a carefully parsed “I take responsibility.” A full-throated, in-person, gut-level, tears-on-the-cheeks mea culpa.

Under his tenure, the U.S. border didn’t just become porous—it evaporated. Disappeared. Went from “we control who comes in” to “the door’s over there, help yourself to a court date in 2037.” The consequences? Catastrophic. Hundreds of thousands of violent criminals—rapists, gang members, fentanyl traffickers—were released into American communities, only to vanish like socks in a national security dryer.

And now it’s up to local law enforcement to pick up the pieces, one dangerous fugitive at a time. Mayorkas should be required to visit every border town, every sanctuary city, and every overwhelmed county jail and say:

“I’m sorry I left you with this.
I’m sorry I called our border secure when you were begging for help.
I’m sorry I waved in millions of illegals like VIPs at a Vegas nightclub.”

And while he’s at it, Mayorkas should also stop at the homes of Gold Star families who lost loved ones to crimes committed by individuals who should have never been here in the first place. He owes them more than words, but words are the place to start.

So yes, the apology tour begins with Mayorkas.

Karine Jean-Pierre

As Biden’s White House Press Secretary, Jean-Pierre was arguably the most prolific purveyor of fiction to have ever stepped behind a podium in the West Wing.

Her job, in theory, was to communicate the facts of the day on behalf of the President. In practice, she moonlighted as the lead spokeswoman for a three-year-long gaslighting campaign so brazen and unrelenting that Orwell himself would’ve asked her to dial it back.

At every press conference, Jean-Pierre stood there, binder at the ready, informing the American people that what we were seeing with our own eyes was not happening. The President confused Egypt with El Salvador, halted mid-speech, and referred to his wife as the Vice President. We watched as he forgot names, mumbled through transcripts as if they were ancient scrolls, lost his train of thought, and wandered off camera as though he was searching for pudding in a retirement home. Meanwhile, Karine smiled and assured us that the President was "sharp," "focused," and “laser-engaged.”

Laser-engaged? Ma’am, the man thought the Prime Minister of Australia was his Amtrak conductor.

Karine Jean-Pierre didn’t just lie; she lied with the audacity of someone who knew she would never be held accountable. She scolded the few reporters who asked tough questions and deferred to doctors who never seemed to be in the room. She responded to legitimate inquiries about the President’s state of mind with smirking contempt usually reserved for cult leaders. She owes the American people an apology for not just defending the indefensible, but for doing so with a smug confidence that implied we were the ones losing touch with reality.

On the Apology Tour, she should step on stage, look directly into the crowd, and say:

“I apologize for insulting your intelligence.
I apologize for pretending the Emperor wasn’t naked.
And I apologize for redefining transparency as ‘next question, thank you.’”

Merrick Garland

Next up on the Apology Tour—but no less deserving of a front-row reckoning—is Merrick Garland, the soft-spoken, solemn-faced Attorney General who oversaw one of the most nakedly partisan and credibility-wrecking eras in the Justice Department’s history.

For over four years, he presided over a Department of Justice that operated less as a neutral institution of law and more like a high-dollar hit squad with a search warrant and a CNN camera crew on speed dial.

• If you were a pro-life Catholic kneeling outside a clinic, you were a potential domestic terrorist.

• If you were a school board mom upset about pornographic content in your kid’s textbook, you were worthy of FBI monitoring.

• If you were a former President named Donald Trump, you got more subpoenas than a mafia family reunion.

• But if your last name was Biden and you misplaced classified documents in your garage next to the leaf blower—well, let’s not rush to judgment.

And perhaps most unforgivable: he made a complete mockery of the idea that justice is blind. In Garland’s DOJ, justice squinted, peeked at poll numbers, checked Twitter trends, and then called The Washington Post to leak the narrative.

On this Apology Tour, Garland must visit every courthouse, every police precinct, and every American diner where citizens once believed the DOJ stood for something above politics.

He should say:

“I’m sorry for turning the Department of Justice into a Department of Double Standards.
I’m sorry for hollowing out the DOJ's integrity like termites beneath a courthouse floor.

And I’m sorry for the public’s lost faith in the American justice system.”

Joe Biden

In a just world, Joe Biden would personally lead this apology tour. He would be the headliner, the main act, the guy with the microphone and the ice cream cone, stepping off the bus at every stop to deliver a heartfelt “My bad, America.”

After all, the sins of this administration—on the border, on justice, on truth—were committed in his name. But here’s the problem: he can’t. And he shouldn’t.

Because the same reasons he should never have been president in the first place—his cognitive decline, his inability to form coherent sentences without cue cards, his frequent confusion over whether he’s speaking to a crowd or a ficus plant—are the very reasons he must be excused from this tour.

Let’s be honest. If Joe Biden were on the bus, he’d mistake it for a campaign rally. He’d thank “President Obama” for letting him be there. Then he’d lean into the mic and yell, “God save the Queen!”

We’ll allow him to sit this one out, provided he issues a single, nationally broadcast statement of remorse that includes the phrases:

• “I was not up to the job.”

• “The border was not secure.”

• “The economy was not booming.”

• And “Robert Hur was right.”

No angry outbursts. No scripted rage. Just five minutes of clarity, if he has it left in the tank.

Because while he may not be fit to ride the bus, it’s time he acknowledged what we’ve all known since the training wheels came off his presidency:

He was never fit to drive it in the first place.