In Support of the Unsupportable
December 19th, 2009
There is a slew of disclaimers one must evoke if they wish to even try to approach this story rationally. You first have to mention sentences that proclaim Tiger’s actions as ‘inexcusable’, ‘unforgivable’ etc... At least I think this is what you have to do. I’m not sure because I haven’t heard anyone speak rationally on this story yet.
Of course, this isn’t a very rational story to begin with. In fact, much of it is still wrapped in mystery and hear-say. What is certain so far is that Tiger Woods banged a lot of waitresses; his wife blew her lid when she found out and then he crashed his Escalade into a tree.
Now apparently, due to these events and revelations, the American people have really soured on the world’s greatest golf pro. According to an NBC News/Wall Street Journal poll, only 15% of Americans have a positive view of Tiger Woods. This is fucking amazing considering that I’ve never seen any likeability poll go below 20%.
I was, for one, firmly convinced that no matter what happened and no matter whom it was about, you could get a 20% favorability out of the American public. Dick Cheney, a firm believer and public proponent of torture, had a career low ratting of 21%. His favorability numbers have gone up recently, while his support of torture is even stronger. By this logic, there’s potentially some 20% of the American people out there that feel positively about Dr. Josef Mengele.
Somewhere, deep down in the pit of my soul I strangely felt that the unmentionable crimes that Tiger committed are slightly less egregious then hooking-up a person’s genitals to a car battery. By all accounts, I’m in the minority here; but it’s simply a visceral thing. I can’t explain it. It’s just that fucking a hostess (or even 12) doesn’t seem as bad as drowning a person until he faints, repeatedly, for days.
Due to this, possibly misleading but very convincing feeling, I’ve decided to not only defend Tiger Woods from more battering, but also throw my support behind the man. I’d like to mention at this point that I hate golf and personally couldn’t give shit about Tiger Woods or how he lives his life. My support of the man stems simply from the fact that I would like to separate myself from the irrational mobs who have judged the man as if he had committed genocide.
Tiger Woods fucked a bunch of bimbos. He cheated on his wife of 5 years and the mother to his two children. Shame on you Tiger Woods, I hope she dumps your ass and takes you for half. – This would have been an appropriate amount of scorn to be applied to this story.
I fully appreciate that women may have a slightly more emotional response. After all, they are more likely to identify with the victim on a much deeper level then men in this case. So, to a certain extent, I have to give women a bit of license to rage on Tiger so much.
However, I’ve wondered how come so many men have leaned into the berating mode. Being a man myself, I’ve come to respect that it is sometines difficult to stay faithful to one woman. I assume that it is just as difficult for women.
Now, I have never been a globally recognized sports star or the highest paid athlete in human history, but my experience is that this condition considerably increases ones chances of successfully convincing a female towards woo-hoo. In fact, I’ll go as far to say that such a disproportional amount of physical talent, material wealth, not to mention an incredible level of fame associated, could be just enough for some women to even actively pursue Tiger.
Considering how difficult I’ve found resisting the temptation of pursuing sexual relations with loose, half-drunken, mentally unstable rejects from nightclubs; I am assuming that it is unimaginably more difficult to resist the sexual advamces of hot, half-drunken, mentally unstable night-club hostesses.
That being said, my opinion is that the likelihood of a young man completely resisting the active and persistent sexual advances of hot, steamy, loose, no strings attached, women from distant cities is blatantly ridiculous unless that young man is Clay Aiken.
I for one, credit the Tiger for making it this far. If I had the amount of opportunities that Tiger Woods had, I’m not sure I would have been able to stay faithful on the way from the altar to the wedding reception.
Obviously, based on the polls, 85% of American men have been in Mr. Woods’ very expensive shoes and have found no significant difficulty to summarily rejecting throngs of beautiful women pulsating with sexual energy. I have much respect for these steal-willed champions of faithfulness.
Still, I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that I’m pretty sure there are still some men out there that cheat, and most of them do not make 110 million dollars a year. In fact, some men not only have sex with other women, but they go as far as to leave their wives and children for these ‘other’ women. And, in most of these cases, these men don’t even leave a couple hundred million dollars for their ex-wives to live on. Shocking.
Why Mr. Woods would engage in sexual relationships with a multitude of extremely attractive and available women is beyond many people’s understanding. In fact, it’s beyond more peoples understanding then why a sitting president would jeopardize his political career and the fate of a country by banging a chubby girl. As with torture a lot more people were sympathetic with that case. A lot.
What will it take for America to forgive Tiger? He has a lot of charities he contributes to. His massive wealth ensures that his taxes alone provides for a multitude of public services. Perhaps if he were to enter some sort of rehabilitation program that would cure him of the clearly unnatural desire to copulate with lots of attractive women.
These are certainly dark days for Mr. Woods, and 85% of America would say deservedly so. What the golf champ could only hope is that years from now, after he dies, the public offers him the same amount of understanding they offered a Michael Jackson, or a Richard Nixon, or a Dr. Kevorkian. But considering that even these guys had a higher percentage of public support then Mr. Woods, I wouldn’t hold my breath.
Feeling fat yet?
November 27th, 2009
There is so much to be thankful for this year because it is when the trimmings are scarce that we are most grateful for what we have – each other. Indeed, knowing to be grateful and what to be grateful for is the greatest gift of all.
This is the knowledge we need to pass on to our children, so that they too grow up humble and righteous instead of falling to the lower human conditions of greed and selfishness.
Therefore, with Thanksgiving at the beginning of the holiday season, as we were sitting down at the dinner table, I made sure to explain things to my children so that they would know how to be grateful.
Yes kids, your uncle did pile almost all of the yams and stuffing onto his plate, and yes he did take all of the buttered roles for himself as well; but you should know – it was done for our own good. Yes, he did decide to drink all the gravy in one impressive slurp, and yes he is holding the entire baked ham under his left arm; he also put about 74% of the turkey on to his plate and yes, though he doesn’t like cranberry sauce; he needed to use it all as mortar to maintain the structural integrity of the obscenely massive amount of food he piled on his plate. And thank goodness that he did.
We are nothing but grateful to have your uncle at our table and I thank God that he is here. No, I don’t mind that he’s pulling the table cloth towards him more and more as the evening progresses or that he steals the few pieces of string beans you managed to scrounge from your plate when you aren’t looking – He is your uncle and he is irreplaceable to our family! What would we do without him?
It’s so easy to sit there across the table from your uncle and cast a judgmental eye at him. “He’s insane! He couldn’t possibly need that much! He’s just plain greedy!” - So easily you whisper to each other. But have you ever thought about what would happen if your uncle wasn’t hear every year to rub his sweaty balls over the entire turkey before we carve it and yell “Mine!” ? Do you ever think of his sacrifice? Do you know how much effort it takes to fork all that food on his plate? Do you have any idea how hot that turkey is when he’s rubbing his balls over it? The man hasn’t been able to grow hair down there for decades!
“How is this helping us?” What do you think would happen if your uncle wasn’t here each year to shove 35 average recommended daily servings of saturated fat down his thought in one sitting? Oh, I suppose you think your uncle only should only have 25 servings. Would that be fair? Oh, we should give some to Timmy as it may help him with his rickets! Well, kids if Timmy had applied himself a little harder he would have overcome rickets a long time ago on his own.
Anybody can feed a turkey. Anybody can grow corn and yams and make stuffing. But only the most talented and special people can do what your uncle does. You see kids, what he does is so special that our gratefulness for it supersedes conventional logic and even morality. In fact, the only thing the rest of us can do is just sit back let your uncle do what he does and try to shovel as much of our turkey, sides, ham and pies down his moth as possible.
You are only kids, and you still don’t understand. You still can’t look past your own eyes. What to you seems gluttonous, obscene and depraved is what maintains the health of our family and keeps the economy of our great nation running. If it wasn’t for your uncle and the other good people at Goldman Sachs who sit down every holiday season and give themselves massive amounts of turkey and pie, we wouldn’t be motivated to strive and work hard all year to put the food on the table for your uncle and the other good people at Goldman Sachs who sit down every holiday season and give themselves massive amounts of turkey and pie.
Now quickly, go get all the purell we have and rub it into your uncles ever growing and bulging fat folds. We don’t want him to get swine flu for Christ sake.
Gobble – Gobble Mother fuckers!
November 17th, 2009
As you age, a brutal equation becomes evident: certainty decreases over time.
Somewhere before the 2004 presidential election, I had stated that there ‘was no possible way I could ever see myself voting for George W. Bush’. This sentiment was shared by then by almost ½ of America. Indeed, with each passing year my opinion was reinforced and we all saw less Americans siding with George W. Bush.
So it came as one of those life-surprises and poignant moments of self-reflection when I now, less than 10 months since George W. Bush left the Whitehouse, realize that my statement above no longer holds true.
Now, in order to impress upon you the full gravity of my realization, you have to understand just how much I disapproved of Mr. Bush’s performance in office. You also have to take into account that my opinions on the matter were not derived from some biased liberal background. In all honesty I gave the man the man a chance, extended a lot of rope and by 2007, felt that he hung us all with it.
In 2001 Americans would tell strangers abroad that they were Canadian for fear of Osama Bin Laden, by 2005 we were telling them that out of embarrassment.
One day in 2006 there was a soft daydream smile across my face when I saw a bumper sticker that simply read: “1.20.2009”. So taken was I by this glimmer into the future, that I almost rear-ended the purveyor of this very message. I realized then that 2009 was less than 3 years away, and with a bit of luck, we could actually live to see it.
In those days, when spending time with my father, the realization of history and time would spark in him. Quite calmly, he’d remember that just a few years ago people thought the Carter years sucked.
It was therefore either nostalgic remembrance of the past or dreamy hope that we might see the future that kept us going. The deep nightmarish present was just too painful to face head on.
Now, I know that some may find my memories of the Bush years unfair. Indeed, at the moment I’m not interested in giving an objective assessment of the Bush presidency. I am simply trying to convey how it felt for me.
One of the first inklings I had that it would be a rough few years came in 2001, right after Bush was inaugurated. In a California eatery , I had overheard this sweet old Mexican woman from Texas saying “Bush es el Diablo!”. At the time I remember thinking she was some senile wing-nut, but by 2005 I would have asked her to bless my children.
And by 2007, I - a lover of Democracy, was actually daydreaming of a military junta.
I hope that I have painted upon your noggins just how much I was opposed to George W. Bush. There was indeed ‘no possible way I could ever see myself voting for George W. Bush’!
You can imagine then the surprise at my very visceral reaction to a friend’s question:
“Hypothetically… I know it’s not possible, but hypothetically… Let’s say through some crazy set of circumstances… In a presidential election between Sarah Palin and George W. Bush; who wou….”
“Bush!” – I screamed.
“Bush!” – I repeated it several times. “For shit fucking sure – Bush!”
After 8 years of questioning how could anyone with a blood alcohol level under 3.0 ever vote for Bush, faced with such an election - I found myself wondering if the ligaments and sinews of my body could physically withstand the sheer force at which I would thrust myself towards supporting George W. Bush.
Literally, I’m on one side, a vote for George W. Bush on the other, and the 1976 Pittsburgh Stealers defensive line in the middle – not today’s, old version of them – the 1976 version, at their peak performance with Mean Joe Greene having just found out I fucked his girlfriend. The only thing that would delay me from setting my vote for George W. Bush for president, would a brief laugh at the very idea that they could stop me.
Were such an election ever a possibility, I would immediately start to calculate if by selling all my worldly assets I would be able to support myself while giving 100% of my time enthusiastically working as a volunteer for the George W. Bush re-election campaign. Sure, I’d have to drastically cut my caloric intake, possibly face the effects of malnutrition and scurvy, but it would be a sacrifice I’d gladly make.
And with each signature of support collected, with each “W” sticker handed out – inside my head would be a constant shameful memory endlessly looping , each time spewing a shot of regret to my emaciated soul – A clip of myself, reacting to the 2004 election results saying ‘Fuck it. At least we can’t do any worse.’ My only solace would be the sense that out of such remorse, I may just finally find Jesus.
Now all people have doubts and I have doubted many things in my life - probably more than most people. Life’s circumstances, disappointments, psychoactive substances and just an inquisitive mind are all enough to make one doubt the very bedrocks of what we perceive as reality.
I’ve often been tormented not by questions like ‘Is there a God?’ , but even more basic ones like: Is our existence provable? Am I me? Is there even such a concept as ‘I’?’ Are numbers progressive by nature or only by a consequence of our rationalization? If so, do they accelerate sequentially as 1, 2, 3; or do they progress logarithmically as 1, 3, 9? If all reality is based on perception then reality itself is not measurable? - You know, doubts a Philosophy major would have after a crystal meth binge.
Yet with all this propensity towards doubt, not once has the thought ‘Maybe Sara Palin could be a good president some day?’ ever fucking crossed my mind. It was even difficult even typing it just now.
In all honesty, the only 2 things I can say that I am absolutely sure of is that 1 has a greater value then 0 and that electing Sarah Palin would be a cataclysm of fucking biblical proportion.
“But didn’t you say that certainty decreases over time?” - I heard from the back of the room. – “With enough time passing, won’t you be less certain of Sarah Palin’s presidential credential?”
To this I submit that with enough time passing I won’t be certain whether I’m shitting myself or not, but let me nip this theory in the butt.
I have through my physicist friends learned that in an infinite universe there are infinite possibilities. The ramifications of this are absolutely mindboggling if you think about it for more than a second.
In an infinite universe there are infinite planet earths, each with infinite amounts of variation. There is a planet earth out there that is exactly like ours – with you sitting exactly where you are at this very moment reading this very text. There is another planet earth that is exactly like ours only happening one day behind, a world of infinite yesterday.
There are also infinite planet earths were things are slightly different. A planet earth where the Nazi’s won the War, one where the Cubs win every year, one where old Cool-Mo Dee tickets are considered legal tender, where Tab is the only soft drink – any variation you could think of.
Therefore in our universe, there is a planet earth that is the absolute opposite of ours. One where up is down; black is white; the sun rises in the west; where French fries and pizza are the healthiest foods you can eat and people sneak water-crest soup shots from their spouses; a planet where teenage boys see Megan Fox and the first thing they think is ‘she must have a nice personality’ .
In that opposite earth where things are the furthest possible from what they are here, even in a reality where something called ‘chocolate covered bacon whiskey’ is prescribed by your doctor as a vitamin; Sarah Palin as president would, and I quote the residents of bizzaro-world -“still kind of suck”.