I owe you all an apology.

In the likely reality that this is the last bit of conversation we’ll get to share for a while, I feel that I have let you down.

As a columnist for this newspaper, I’ve celebrated, condoned, critiqued and contemplated a few of the “major” issues of our time, from the nearly pointless (postmodernism, anyone?) to the crucially real (immigration). My rants and digressions weren’t always good, but … (well, that kind of sums it up).

Yet faced with the last chance to blather my views on these esteemed pages, I can’t help feeling like I’ve skipped over the most complaint-worthy story of our time. If the function of a newspaper columnist is to play the public conscience, I’ve long failed to ruminate upon our most egregious transgression, the field trip that will long define us in the future eyes of the world as the insulated, idealistic idiots we so clearly are:

The war in Iraq.

It began during my second-ever finals week at UCSD, as glorious green rockets played on CNN in between dryly confident testimonials by U.S. military leaders. There was the quick invasion; the propped-up victory (remember “Mission Accomplished”?); the instant, knee-jerk patriotism; and those cheerful, wide-eyed embedded reporters.

Three years later, it is getting really hard to keep in mind the total cost of this spectacular fuck-up, even as the necessity of doing so grows.

In an effort to keep track, here’s a quick, quantitative round-up of some of the costs:

2,471 U.S. soldiers; 2,695 coalition troops (as of May 31)

$284 billion (growing every second)

71 reporters (more than any other modern war)

40,000 Iraqi civilians (see www.iraqbodycount.org)

Yet as these numbers grow to more depressing heights, it seems our ability — and will — to face them only shrinks. Frankly, it seems fucking hopeless: Even President George W. Bush and Tony Blair wring their hands grimly when they get together to talk strategy these days.

And the news keeps getting worse: the Los Angeles Times reported earlier this week that the Pentagon’s long-brewing hopes for a troop pullback will likely not occur, as a result of rising tensions in the fiery western part of the country.

The New York Times described the horrifying Iraqi security situation in an editorial last week: “Right now armed gangs of thugs, many of them wearing government uniforms, are spreading terror throughout the country. Some were trained by American forces to work for the Interior Ministry, but actually do the bidding of Shiite political and religious leaders. They harass, kidnap and murder people who follow different religious practices or support competing politicians, often with the help of weapons and equipment provided by an American government that had very different objectives in mind.”

Then there’s Haditha — a story people are already calling the My Lai of Iraq (see your Vietnam history text).

The details aren’t yet perfectly clear, but it appears as though a group of U.S. Marines massacred 24 Iraqi civilians in retaliation for the death of a fellow Marine by roadside bomb. It’s too early yet to pass judgment on those involved: Residents say the massacre was unprovoked violence by Marines; those in the Corps say that troops these days never do anything without at least the tacit support of their superiors.

Whoever authorized the killing that day, the incident will only further damage U.S. credibility in Iraq, making it harder to achieve the nebulous goals our leaders still stubbornly pursue.

And as for those goals? Every single justification for the war — save for the one that Hussein was a bastard — turned out to be false. We’re not fighting for something — we’re fighting until a moment arrives at which we can duck our heads and run without seeming cowardly (which means until Bush leaves office).

That our leaders will never be held accountable for their misjudgments is the greatest tragedy of the war, one that we further every day by brushing off the bad news as it piles up.

After he retires, George W. will live out his days on his Crawford ranch, mountain biking and aw-shucking as the world slowly reaches the inevitable conclusion that he was the worst leader this country has ever had.

We cannot let him — or any of the other proponents of this titanic disaster — off the hook for the horrible state of affairs they’ve produced.

Our image in the world is hopelessly tarnished.

Our military is in ruins. The Iraqis — the ones that have survived — have inherited a country of thugs, snipers, bombers, murderers and liars. Most who can afford to leave have done so.

As the madness goes on, it’s too easy for us to tune out and forget — to point our minds toward more easily solvable, entertaining or pleasant dilemmas.

I’ve been doing that in my Guardian columns for years, encouraged by the lack of a simple answer: Should we leave the country immediately and let it crumble, or construct some sort of half-standard for resolution and call it a day in a year or so, after however many more hundreds of soldiers and civilians are dead?

Perhaps it’s a letdown of my duties as a columnist to admit that I don’t know what to do.

But unless we all keep looking for a solution — and remember who presented us with this problem in the first place — the years, bodies, dollars and tragedies will continue to add up, and with them the incentive for us all to look the other way.