When I first heard about the Tiger Woods incident, I thought it was just another celebrity bust-up that was none of my business.
So he was screwing everything with a pulse — so what? Isn’t that part of the job description for young, fit, good-looking multi-millionaires?
Obviously, since I’m none of those things, the question is strictly academic, but come on. Who gives a flying toss?
That was the end of it, I thought, apart from the bit where his wife beat him with a golf club, and everyone laughed, just like they’d laugh if a man beat a woman for being unfaithful. Right? Well, maybe not.
But then here come the gurus and the pundits and they’re telling us that Tiger was screwing all these chicks because he suffers from an addictive condition. Yeah. The same addictive condition that every last living straight man suffers from when women are throwing themselves at him from all directions.
Well, Mr Woods, we think we have a diagnosis.
Is it serious, Doctor?
It’s pretty bad. Brace yourself Mr Woods.
Give it to me straight, Doc.
Very well. You suffer from Can’t-Say-No-To-Hot-Babes-Begging-You-To-Shag-Them Syndrome.
My God, Doctor. How serious is that?
Well, Mr Woods, it’s a variant of Tom Jones Syndrome where women fling their underwear at a celebrity.
I never heard of that either, Doc. Is it common?
Tom Jones Syndrome? It’s not unusual.
Come on. Gimme a fucking break. Here’s this gobshite from the the golf club, where is it? Buttfuck Arizona? No, wait, where is it? Alabama? I don’t know. Someplace full of KKKlansmen anyway, and there he is with a sheet over his head on the news like he’s reading from the bible, and he’s saying what a bad, bad thing that Woods boy done, and how he deserved to get his black ass whupped for goin with them white gals, but the nigras don’t know shit from Shinola, and they done never knew how to keep their peckers inside their pants nohow, nosirreebob!
Did you hear the fucking idiot? Augusta, is it? Jesus, what a pity Sherman didn’t burn the place to the ground, and all its pointy-headed racist, bible-bashing hypocrites with it.
And as if that’s not bad enough, here comes Tiger himself in a creepy Nike ad with the ghost of his mother and father hovering around whispering BAAAAD shit to him. You’re a bad, bad boy, Tiger. A bad boy, and Mommy’s gonna spank you. Yes she is, Tiger. Mommy’s gonna spank you real good.
No, Momma. Not the spankin’ Momma. Please? Huh? Huh, Momma? Please?
They’re all fucking mad.
Note from Bock to Elin: you married a family of loonies. Get out now, while you still can.