Tiger Woods and Sergio Garcia have been engaged in a hissy-fit pillow fight since they were paired in the third round of the Players Championship at Sawgrass on May 11. Note: if you're not a golfer this next bit will both amaze and stupify. The incident that got the most recent dust-up started happened on the second hole. The two golfers were on opposite sides of the fairway. Sergio was away so he would hit first. To hear Sergio tell it, Tiger waited until Sergio was in his backswing, then pulled a wood from his bag. Because the crowd following Tiger expected to see an iron, they shouted their approval at the club selection. This sudden uproar caused Sergio to miss-hit his shot. Mr. Garcia contends that this show of poor sportsmanship cost him the hole, the round and the championship. Tiger tells a different tale. Also the TV footage shows that, when the crowd erupted, Sergio had plenty of time to back off the shot. He chose to hit anyway.
Since the "Great Club-Choosing Controversy" (which Fox News labeled as "bigger than Watergate") Woods and Garcia have been sniping back and forth in every social media imaginable. A selection is even available on Pandora. Clearly, this must end. And so we can imagine that Tiger's agent and Sergio's agent arranged for a clandestine meeting between the two golfers. The scene: Butler Cabin on the grounds of Augusta National. Away from the cameras and armed only with a quart of tequila and a box of fine cigars, the two champions can finally settle their differences. Let's listen:
Tiger: Well Sergio, I don't know why it took us this long to get together. We play in a lot of the same tournaments. Of course, it's tough to arrange a meeting when you're leaving the course on Friday night and I'm there until Sunday. Have a drink?
Sergio: Thanks Tiger, don't mind if I do. We should be amigos. After all we both have the same number of endorsement deals...which is none. In my case it's because, during a four day tournament, I'm guaranteed to blow up like the Hindenburg. For you it's because your love life has made you as toxic as a Chernobyl swimming pool. Nike only held on because your name was on more shit than Donald Trump. Let me pour you a drink.
Tiger: Yeah, you're right. After all, between us we have amassed fourteen Major Championships and ten PGA Player of the Year awards. Of course none of those were yours but hey, your career's not over..is it?
Sergio: Not by a long shot. And speaking of long shots you really hosed me on #2 at Sawgrass. I'm lucky I even hit the ball.
Tiger: Yeah sorry about that. But seriously if you could manage to hit a drive past the women's tees once in a while, you wouldn't have to hit first in the fairway. Jesus, my girlfriend Lindsey Vonn can hit it farther than you with a ski pole. Have another blast of this most excellent tequila.
Sergio: Don't mind if I do. So you admit you excited the crowd on purpose to screw up my shot?
Tiger: Shit yeah! You fold up like a cheap suit at the slightest distraction. Oh and by the way, as long as we're coming clean, I sort of bribed your caddy to replace your ball on #17 with a whiffle ball. You couldn't have gotten that shot over the water with a howitzer.
Sergio: Well as long as we're telling secrets, remember Thanksgiving night in 2009? When you fought with your wife and drove your Caddy (the car not the bag-carrier) into a hydrant?
Tiger: It would be hard to forget, why?
Sergio: Well the reason you lost control of the car might be because I disconnected the steering column from the wheels. Wow, when you hit that hydrant, water shooting everywhere, I about wet my $600 Bobby Jones pants. Have another drink.
Tiger: Cute Sergio. I suppose you'll tell me next that it was you who called my wife about my boning all those waitresses.
Sergio: Better than that. Two of those bimbos were my cousins. Not all the hookers in my family are golfers. Another drink mi amigo?
Tiger: You bet. Jesus, this is a lot to process. I certainly feel a bit better about some of the dirty tricks that I've played on you over the years.
Sergio: Like what?
Tiger: Well, remember the time you were held at customs in Orlando? That might be because someone called INS and reported that a "little Mexican carrying golf balls full of cocaine" was landing from Asia.
Sergio: But I'm from Madrid.
Tiger: Yeah tomatoes, tomaatos. You all look alike to an $11.00 an hour high school grad in a uniform. They held you for a day and a half as I recall.
Sergio: That's terrible. What else?
Tiger: Oh yeah, remember when you were dating Greg Norman's daughter Morgan-Leigh? Well I heard that someone told her you were gay. It was easy to convince her. After all you did go out with Martina Hingis the tennis player. Women's tennis has more lesbians that the will-call line at the Lilith Fair.
Sergio: Oh yeah! Well the next time that your ex wife lets you near your two kids, take a real good look. That's right Nike-boy, Sam and Charlie might as well be named Sergio Uno and Sergio Dos. That's not African American you're looking at. It's pure Castilian. It seemed that Elin preferred a bit of chorizo to that half-Asian spring roll you've been showing to every truck stop waitress and checkout clerk at Walmart. How did she put it "Tiger may have a great short game but his driver was strictly from limpsville."
Tiger: At least I have a wife paella-face. Word around the clubhouse is that you're hitting from both sides of the ball. You've been wearing pink knickers for years and telling anyone who asked that it was for breast cancer awareness. I heard that, in Spain, the sound of your zipper frightened the sheep across three counties.
Sergio: That's an ugly rumor started by Seve Ballesteros because I wouldn't let him date my sister.
Anyway the important thing is that all that animosity is behind us. We should make a deal: no more tweets or Facebook posting about each other.
Tiger: Are you sure that's what you want? If it wasn't for me, you'd be washing golf carts at some muni course in Barcelona. Our "feud" is the only thing keeping you in the golf conversation. Are you going to finish that last swallow of tequila?
Sergio: No you take it. Maybe you're right. Your cheap shots at me are the only thing that proves to fans that you weren't manufactured in some mocha golf factory. Face it! Most of the time you exhibit the personality of a bag of tees. It least regarding me you appear human...if a bit churlish. I guess we need each other. By the way, I drank a little too much of that tequila. I can't move my legs.
Tiger: Me neither. I guess we'll have to stay here a while. Say, did I ever tell you about the time I poured honey in Phil Michelson's golf bag? Well it was really hot and...
Friday, May 24, 2013
Thursday, May 23, 2013
... or are there more things in heaven and earth Heratio, than are dreamt of on Fox News?
Stuff that was zigging while you were zagging:
Item
A quick check of the "who gives a shit" meter reveals that American Idol has fired all of its "celebrity" judges. Pity. Now Keith Urban will have to go back to something he's good at, like getting coffee for his actually talented wife, Nicole Kidman. The rest can wander in "C" list purgatory wishing in vain that Hollywood Squares was still in business.
Item
A recent article in the paper (yes, Virginia, they still print them) mentioned Muslim fundamentalist trouble in the African country of Nigeria. Nothing to see here. Muslim troubles are as prevalent as cicadas in June ...and just as ugly. Anyway, of note in the article was the President of Nigeria whose name is Goodluck Jonathan. Considering the scarred history of Nigeria, the President's name seems more of a interjection than a proper noun. "Lotsaluck" Jonathan might have worked better. One imagines his successor will be Outaluck Harry or Yournotserious Cooper. Stay tuned for updates.
Item
In the "Oh no he didn't" file we have a movie theater manager who hired an actor to dress in tactical gear and weaponry and storm his theater during a screening of Iron Man 3. The manager, Bob Wilkins of Jefferson City, MO who apparently hasn't been keeping up with the mass shootings in Colorado, Massachusetts, etc, said "we had planned it for months and many were entertained". The fact that many were scared shitless has eluded Mr. Wilkins and his bosses. The theater has posted an apology on its Facebook Page. Whether they offered to reimburse patrons for severely soiled skivvies wasn't mentioned.
Which brings us to a related topic, namely:
Since when is an apology on your stupid Facebook page the "get out of jail free" card for every and any transgression? "Yes your honor. I know I scared the bejeebes out of hundreds of people and caused an attack of PTSD in one veteran (true) but after all, I apologized on Facebook." Justice will involve Facebook postings only on the day that said posting includes a photo of the offender, nude, holding a sign that reads "Please re-post this picture of the most clueless, insensitive jerk in Western America to all of your friends."
Item
Pope Francis, the first of that name, has ensured his place in the Guinness Book of World Records. Not content to create saints the old fashioned way, one at a time, Pope Francis is doing it by the batch. The Pontiff has canonized an entire 800 person town. No not Las Vegas. It seems that back in 1480 the town of Otranto, on the heel of the Italian boot, was invaded by the Ottoman Turks. They were on their way to Rome, but Otranto looked like a good place to stop for gas. Anyway, the Turkish admiral, Gedik Ahmet Pasa, offered the locals the option of becoming Muslims or becoming headless. Curiously, the citizenry chose the later. ( A stranger, happening on the gruesome scene the next day was heard to holler, "Que Pasa!"). Being without their heads it was impossible to compare dental records and the Vatican was forced to canonize the whole town, if somewhat posthumously. If praying to one saint can prompt miracles, imagine what praying to a town-full will accomplish. Goodbye cancer.
Item
OK please tell me why everyone from Macao to Beijing is laughing themselves sick over this beautifulerection edifice. The new headquarters of the newspaper The Peoples Daily, the Communist Party's main
propaganda machine stands proudly in downtown Beijing. The scaffolding at thetip top is a fitting reminder of how China views its place in the world, namely as a giant prick beacon. As the principal organ disseminater of Communist Party factspeak, the People's Daily has chosen this giant shaft as the symbol of the Party's committment to the people of the country. Bravo, China. You in the back, stop snickering.
Item
And, as long as we're doing architectural critique, can anyone tell me what this is:
Item
A quick check of the "who gives a shit" meter reveals that American Idol has fired all of its "celebrity" judges. Pity. Now Keith Urban will have to go back to something he's good at, like getting coffee for his actually talented wife, Nicole Kidman. The rest can wander in "C" list purgatory wishing in vain that Hollywood Squares was still in business.
Item
A recent article in the paper (yes, Virginia, they still print them) mentioned Muslim fundamentalist trouble in the African country of Nigeria. Nothing to see here. Muslim troubles are as prevalent as cicadas in June ...and just as ugly. Anyway, of note in the article was the President of Nigeria whose name is Goodluck Jonathan. Considering the scarred history of Nigeria, the President's name seems more of a interjection than a proper noun. "Lotsaluck" Jonathan might have worked better. One imagines his successor will be Outaluck Harry or Yournotserious Cooper. Stay tuned for updates.
Item
In the "Oh no he didn't" file we have a movie theater manager who hired an actor to dress in tactical gear and weaponry and storm his theater during a screening of Iron Man 3. The manager, Bob Wilkins of Jefferson City, MO who apparently hasn't been keeping up with the mass shootings in Colorado, Massachusetts, etc, said "we had planned it for months and many were entertained". The fact that many were scared shitless has eluded Mr. Wilkins and his bosses. The theater has posted an apology on its Facebook Page. Whether they offered to reimburse patrons for severely soiled skivvies wasn't mentioned.
Which brings us to a related topic, namely:
Since when is an apology on your stupid Facebook page the "get out of jail free" card for every and any transgression? "Yes your honor. I know I scared the bejeebes out of hundreds of people and caused an attack of PTSD in one veteran (true) but after all, I apologized on Facebook." Justice will involve Facebook postings only on the day that said posting includes a photo of the offender, nude, holding a sign that reads "Please re-post this picture of the most clueless, insensitive jerk in Western America to all of your friends."
Item
Pope Francis, the first of that name, has ensured his place in the Guinness Book of World Records. Not content to create saints the old fashioned way, one at a time, Pope Francis is doing it by the batch. The Pontiff has canonized an entire 800 person town. No not Las Vegas. It seems that back in 1480 the town of Otranto, on the heel of the Italian boot, was invaded by the Ottoman Turks. They were on their way to Rome, but Otranto looked like a good place to stop for gas. Anyway, the Turkish admiral, Gedik Ahmet Pasa, offered the locals the option of becoming Muslims or becoming headless. Curiously, the citizenry chose the later. ( A stranger, happening on the gruesome scene the next day was heard to holler, "Que Pasa!"). Being without their heads it was impossible to compare dental records and the Vatican was forced to canonize the whole town, if somewhat posthumously. If praying to one saint can prompt miracles, imagine what praying to a town-full will accomplish. Goodbye cancer.
Item
OK please tell me why everyone from Macao to Beijing is laughing themselves sick over this beautiful
propaganda machine stands proudly in downtown Beijing. The scaffolding at the
Item
And, as long as we're doing architectural critique, can anyone tell me what this is:
Your choices are:
1) A Klaus von Oldenburg sculpture outside the National Poultry Museum
2) The architectural answer to the philosophical question as to which came first.
3) The new basketball home for the Portland Pullets.
4) The early rendering of a statue of Karl Rove's head.
Wrong! Actually it is the model of the planned renovation of the Hirschhorn Museum of Sculpture in Washington DC. Known as the Bubble (catchy, eh?), the $15.5 million addition can be inflated for special events; such as accommodating Bill O'Reilly's ego. The board of directors of the museum are at odds over whether the Bubble is a good idea. The city fathers of Washington get it right most of the time (the WWII memorial and Martin Luthor King statue being the most recent sucesses). The Hirshhorn is part of the Smithsonian complex so the decision will be a big deal. Other government agencies have offered to help with ideas. The Defense Dept. has suggested that the Bubble could be used to store the country's supply of helium. CIA wants to install a device that will x-ray the contents of tourist's fanny packs. Oddly, the Dept of Agriculture has been silent. How very egg-estential!
Saturday, May 11, 2013
...or should elections be nullified if the combined IQ of the electorate totals less than three digits?
Was there ever anything more predictable than an election in South Carolina? The state that gave us such memorable treasures as the Civil War, Strom Thurmond and Bob Jones University has continued to provide to the world a sterling example of what happens when the inmates are allowed to vote on who runs the asylum. SC is a fortune teller's delight. Predicting the outcome of any election in South Carolina is easy; merely identify the rational, reasonable candidate with a briefcase full of integrity and a clear plan for the future... then pick the other guy.
Never was this localized mental illness more on display than in Tuesday's Congressional election to fill the seat of Tim Scot (R) who was tapped by Gov. Nikki Haley (R) to fill the Senate post left vacant by Jim DeMint (R). DeMint retired from the Senate to assume the leadership of the Heritage Foundation, a Washington think tank that hasn't had a non-conservative thought since candy bars were a nickel . And so the dominoes fall. Anyway, South Carolina law requires a special election in the case of a Congressional vacancy. Enter Mark Sanford: former governor of the state, former Congressman from South Carolina's 1st District. Also former disgraced governor, former almost impeached governor, and former and current philandering governor. (Believe me, if I could add anything to the Appalachian Trail jokes I would. Sadly that well is as dry as the one for Anthony Weiner. Well, maybe not. How about "If I'd known that the Appalachian trail led directly to the bedroom of some sizzling senorita, I'd have bought hiking boots years ago." OK I'm done. )
Sanford, having escaped criminal charges for his use of state funds to follow his heart (and his johnson) to Buenos Aries, was free to attempt a redemptive run for his old seat. Sanford was counting on two factors in the election: 1) In a fractured field of 16 candidates in the Republican primary, the goobers of his district would likely vote for the only name they could identify (or maybe spell) and, 2) once nominated, the good people of SC would vote for Dzokhar Tsarnaev before they'd elect any Democrat. And what do you know, he was right. Fifty-four percent of the electorate in the first district went to the polls and proudly declared that that would love to be represented by a family values candidate who used their tax dollars to start a new family. The fact that his old family was still in residence mattered not a whit. Hey, let he who is without sin...
Conveniently, Sanford was aided by the weak opposition on the Democratic side. His opponent was Elizabeth Colbert Busch whose brother Stephen hosts a popular anti-asshat TV show on Comedy Central. It is unlikely that Colbert's comedy was a factor in the race because his show competes for southern viewers with Bridezilla on Bravo and Roadkill Recipes on the Food Network. In any event no one south of Richmond understands satire anyway.
South Carolina proudly lists its official language as English. Interestingly, anyone who has asked directions from a South Carolina gas station attendant has reason to take issue with that proclamation. In any event the English words that have clearly eluded South Carolinians include: fraud, adultery, malfeasance in office, charlatan (that should have been easy. It sounds like Charleston.) and best of all hypocrite. Seriously Mark, you won the election. You proved that Abe Lincoln was right about fooling some of the people all of the time. You reminded America that you can't spell "nonsensical" without SC. However please, please don't tell us that God forgave you. God doesn't have that strong a stomach. God would have not have suggested that Sanford bring his Argentinian hot tomato to his victory speech. Mark, you were elected by a collection of extremist conservatives who went to the polls, put down their guns and bibles, held their noses and pulled a lever for the not-Democrat. Congratulations Mark but remember, even if you win the rat race, you're still a rat.
Never was this localized mental illness more on display than in Tuesday's Congressional election to fill the seat of Tim Scot (R) who was tapped by Gov. Nikki Haley (R) to fill the Senate post left vacant by Jim DeMint (R). DeMint retired from the Senate to assume the leadership of the Heritage Foundation, a Washington think tank that hasn't had a non-conservative thought since candy bars were a nickel . And so the dominoes fall. Anyway, South Carolina law requires a special election in the case of a Congressional vacancy. Enter Mark Sanford: former governor of the state, former Congressman from South Carolina's 1st District. Also former disgraced governor, former almost impeached governor, and former and current philandering governor. (Believe me, if I could add anything to the Appalachian Trail jokes I would. Sadly that well is as dry as the one for Anthony Weiner. Well, maybe not. How about "If I'd known that the Appalachian trail led directly to the bedroom of some sizzling senorita, I'd have bought hiking boots years ago." OK I'm done. )
Sanford, having escaped criminal charges for his use of state funds to follow his heart (and his johnson) to Buenos Aries, was free to attempt a redemptive run for his old seat. Sanford was counting on two factors in the election: 1) In a fractured field of 16 candidates in the Republican primary, the goobers of his district would likely vote for the only name they could identify (or maybe spell) and, 2) once nominated, the good people of SC would vote for Dzokhar Tsarnaev before they'd elect any Democrat. And what do you know, he was right. Fifty-four percent of the electorate in the first district went to the polls and proudly declared that that would love to be represented by a family values candidate who used their tax dollars to start a new family. The fact that his old family was still in residence mattered not a whit. Hey, let he who is without sin...
Conveniently, Sanford was aided by the weak opposition on the Democratic side. His opponent was Elizabeth Colbert Busch whose brother Stephen hosts a popular anti-asshat TV show on Comedy Central. It is unlikely that Colbert's comedy was a factor in the race because his show competes for southern viewers with Bridezilla on Bravo and Roadkill Recipes on the Food Network. In any event no one south of Richmond understands satire anyway.
South Carolina proudly lists its official language as English. Interestingly, anyone who has asked directions from a South Carolina gas station attendant has reason to take issue with that proclamation. In any event the English words that have clearly eluded South Carolinians include: fraud, adultery, malfeasance in office, charlatan (that should have been easy. It sounds like Charleston.) and best of all hypocrite. Seriously Mark, you won the election. You proved that Abe Lincoln was right about fooling some of the people all of the time. You reminded America that you can't spell "nonsensical" without SC. However please, please don't tell us that God forgave you. God doesn't have that strong a stomach. God would have not have suggested that Sanford bring his Argentinian hot tomato to his victory speech. Mark, you were elected by a collection of extremist conservatives who went to the polls, put down their guns and bibles, held their noses and pulled a lever for the not-Democrat. Congratulations Mark but remember, even if you win the rat race, you're still a rat.
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