#1: Not proud that - albeit only momentarily - I wish non-operable cancers on slap-happy pledge drive announcers for public radio stations to which I do not contribute [because they’ll just use my ‘geld', no doubt, to fund fancy lattes for staff of lay-about pseudo pinko’s].
#2: Yani Tseng is a very talented golfer, seemingly a decent person and … will be LPGA's death within 38 months. Nothing personal, but white dudes have no interest in her golf, Moms think Yani is too androgynous & Ms. T. has all the allure of Phyllis Diller @ a bachelor’s party.
#3: There is no real difference between 92 & 96 degrees [but, admittedly, there is in spread twixt 72 & 76 F]. Hence, in former case, move to No. Carolina from FLA poor choice because semi-comprehensible Spanish easier on ears than hayseed English, FLA has law re spot to smoke cigar in public every 10 km & 3 months of FLA year are utterly perfect.
#4: … #3 conclusion is instantly withdrawn whenever late summer conditions cause run on generators @ Home Depot. Water in tub not meant to stand for greater time than Sarah Palin trying to explain why Paul Revere really was warning Brits of upcoming ass-kickin’!
#5: … speaking of our fav Alaskan minx, have it on good authority her next Prez run to include line, in assorted hues, of ‘elephant stompin’-on mule’ pattern tights to be sold via QVC. Ad line: “Wrap your tootsies in my pretty pantyhose & power-kick pseudo-socialists in 'nads!”. So dig that wacky chick ... especially in 4" boots like these!
#6: One of my venture capital ideas is upscale QVC-type program airing on ‘Golf Channel’ & running under banner of “Cigar Aficionado” magazine. Other than knowing no one @ Orlando G.C. HQ, not getting reply to letter sent to M. Shanken (“C.A.” Publisher) & no real business plan for project, I’m totally green light city on this one, bud!
#7: Green lights – or, rather, lack of seeing many more of them – appears to be Jack Layton’s future. NDP leader gets his party into undisputed minority/#2 federal slot for 1st time in Canadian history & turns out month later he’s got a different/2nd cancer to beat. In recent pics makes young Jerry Lewis look like old Jerry Lewis, by weight comparison.
#8: Recently in news re original star of ‘Nutty Professor’, reported that Tiger Woods standing-in this Labor Day for France's fav American comedian during Muscular Dystrophy annual telethon. Mr. Woods reputedly to verbally admonish various M.D. tykes they need to “man-up” [ ... even girls] & points-out, as well, that parading across studio floor without crutches veritable day-in-friggin'-park to his winning U.S. Open on a broken leg, Buck-O! Must admit just imagining all LifeTime TV network/non-Y chromosome partisans positively swooning to this new/softer El Tigre, warms cockles of my kryptonite heart.
#9: Can’t determine if #8 more caustic than 13 year old me advising my Dad – after he had bitched for 2 minutes about all the taxes he had to pay – that general manager from Stradivarius USA had called & wanted back half dozen violins he had rented him recently?
#10: Dad’s stutter, it should be noted, got much worse after #9 …
Man, oh, Manischewitz, it’s gettin' thicker than congealed grease from Taco Bell fryer in your humble scribe's 'Land O' Schadenfreude'. Luv it!
Newest addition to jettisoned personnel list in Tiger's camp is none other than longtime 'muscle', Steve Williams. Must admit I thought Kiwi’s fate ultimately would be more akin to that of ‘Mr. French’ (loyal lieutenant of Nicholson’s ‘Costello’ in The Departed) who goes down with ship via self-inflicted pie-hole lead poisoning in final scene. Perhaps Steve would've, but El Tigre didn't afford him chance. In Woods-ian fashion, Mr. Williams informed his services no longer needed as fait accompli while Tiger on fly-by awarding trophy from his own tourney.
Seriously, who’s next? Is Tiger going to fire his Mom? Mark Steinberg, the agent, is not an original. Not even his Scotty Cameron flat stick has survived the cut. Hence the title of this missive & Tiger’s ultimate mindset: “They’re all expendable … except ME! MEEE ...!!”.
Said before & shall repeat: Tiger is a jerk. Would call him a douche, but that would insult the great work done by feminine hygiene products in comparison to Mr. Woods’ efforts. So freakin' fake ... personification of old saw that you can tell he's lyin' anytime you see his lips move.
People – not bright ones – have said, ‘Tiger’s a smart guy & eventually he’ll figure his way out of all this by … [fill-in insipid blanks]’. Really?
If El Tigre was so smart, why did he hand-out his # to those dozen plus bimbo’s rather than using disposable cell phones? If he was so smart & having tough time getting new sponsors post-scandal [e.g., still hasn’t attracted new logo with which to adorn golf bag], why does he sport now that sad-ass Samuel Jackson/Jack Shaft look [ ... because you just know the 'suits' in corporate America really "dig it"]? If he was so smart, why has he antagonized the press corps heedlessly while, in contrast, Phil Mickelson probably could pack pistachios in his jockey shorts during post-round interviews & all toothless golf correspondents gladly would claim it was just a new/organic arthritis treatment he was trialing for N.I.H? No, sir. Stanford, after all, makes mistakes too; look at Herbert Hoover. Your Honor, the prosecution rests.
Tiger has shown himself, intermittently, to be a jerk, a cheap skate & an unappreciative horndog (considering his wife's - see right - comeliness) ... but no Mensa candidate in intellectual horsepower dept. Now he’s flailing around wildly while still trying to appear calm. [Admittedly situation tastier to your humble scribe than Prime Rib on Thanksgiving, but I digress ... ]
Best example of this recent T.W. behavior, by the way, was TV chat answer to perpetual queries re state of his knee and/or possible comeback to previous levels of success? To former, stock K. Bacon/Animal House “All is well” line got trotted-out in hamster’s heartbeat. To latter, however, El Tigre got defensive: “Why would I want to go back to what I was? I want to be better. That’s the whole point, to always get better.”
T.W. said “better” like Quigg says “shark” in Jaws or Gecko elongating “greed” from Mr. O. Stone's Wall St. fill-um. Tiger doesn't want to just drink 'Egyptian De-Nile' Kool-Aid, he comes armed with his own XL swizel stick to make sure it goes down smoother!
Maybe the state regulators are safe to take Greek tragedies off the advanced students’ reading lists & substitute Mr. Woods’ plight as suitable parable. Regardless it is my constitutional role to prognosticate, so I shall, possible El Tigre paths:
1.) ‘Modified hang-out’ playing option: Appropriate Nixonian term - considering Tiger’s past dissembling of info - to generalize a limited playing schedule. Key is to emphasize Tiger's desire to still compete, but diminished physical skills to do so. Basically a grand rationalizing scheme for rapid descent to ordinary ability status & goal of limping past J. Nicklaus major record before Champions Tour in headlights.
2.) Bobby Jones’ walk-away: Put-out puff pieces that Tiger wants to focus on bigger things in life & use his fame to do more than seduce thongs off Shoney’s wait staff. Stop playing competitively as Bobby Jones did after Grand Slam & move onto weightier world matters. In Mr. Woods’ case, this would be funneled, no doubt, vis-à-vis his foundation & possible public office run in CA within next decade.
3.) Seppuku (in less than true rital manner): Grisly choice, but not outside realm for someone more mixed-up + nutty than a Planter’s club store party pack. This one has psychological ring of truth, too, because at core Tiger projects an indignation that any rules apply to himself. Although painful, this would be ultimate flip-off move from someone not confrontation comfortable. Imagine circumstances would be contrived by 'His Poutiness' to make it appear his hand was forced by all us bastards in world.
My guess is #2 least likely due to Tiger’s current monthly 'nut' & need for hard cash. If his winning again doesn’t come & a new pretty boy emerges on PGA, then I’d lay $ on #3 – especially as possible unpaid bills mount & this is most cowardly option.
Regardless, Tiger is now officially a loose cannon while systematically he cuts ties with anything from former life. As 'Det. William Somerset' in Seven finds vanity to be deadly sin sufficent to inspire murder, Mr. Eldrick W.'s combination of such with ongoing unwillingness to fess-up to personal truths, will be his ultimate ruination.
As one of my late father's favorite TV detectives used to say, "Who luvs ya, baby?".
#1: Not proud that - albeit only momentarily - I wish non-operable cancers on slap-happy pledge drive announcers for public radio stations to which I do not contribute [because they’ll just use my ‘geld', no doubt, to fund fancy lattes for staff of lay-about pseudo pinko’s].
#3: There is no real difference between 92 & 96 degrees [but, admittedly, there is in spread twixt 72 & 76 F]. Hence, in former case, move to No. Carolina from FLA poor choice because semi-comprehensible Spanish easier on ears than hayseed English, FLA has law re spot to smoke cigar in public every 10 km & 3 months of FLA year are utterly perfect.
#5: … speaking of our fav Alaskan minx, have it on good authority her next Prez run to include line, in assorted hues, of ‘elephant stompin’-on mule’ pattern tights to be sold via QVC. Ad line: “Wrap your tootsies in my pretty pantyhose & power-kick pseudo-socialists in 'nads!”. So dig that wacky chick ... especially in 4" boots like these!
#8: Recently in news re original star of ‘Nutty Professor’, reported that Tiger Woods standing-in this Labor Day for France's fav American comedian during Muscular Dystrophy annual telethon. Mr. Woods reputedly to verbally admonish various M.D. tykes they need to “man-up” [ ... even girls] & points-out, as well, that parading across studio floor without crutches veritable day-in-friggin'-park to his winning U.S. Open on a broken leg, Buck-O! Must admit just imagining all LifeTime TV network/non-Y chromosome partisans positively swooning to this new/softer El Tigre, warms cockles of my kryptonite heart.
