Friday, 19 February 2010

If you're going to seek my forgiveness, Tiger, do it in a better shirt

Have you heard the little publicized news story about world class golfer Tiger Woods cheating on his trophy wife with a string of slutty 'hos? Yeah, I didn't think so. I mean, it's been buried on the front page of newspapers and tabloids for months now. To bring you up to speed, he just made a public apology to a select group of friends and family. I was honoured to be invited by the CTV News Channel and CNN and The New York Times and, well, just about every other news outlet in the free world. So nice and intimate!

I found it kind of weird that Tiger kept apologizing to me. I don't recall ever asking for an apology. In fact, I don't even recall being the least bit irked by his behaviour. Last I checked, I wasn't married to him, and unless you're Elin, neither are you, so why does everyone care so damn much? Don't get me wrong, Tiger's a dog. But I have a sneaking suspicion that much like the Hugh Grant-Divine Brown affair, the majority of the uproar in this case stems from the fact that few can fathom Tiger's desire for another signature hole. Elin's hot, yo!

If my sources are correct, and bearing in mind my aversion to all things sports-related (see previous post), Tiger Woods is a golfer. Not a spokesman for a family values coalition or the face of Husbands Of The Month monthly. He's a rich guy whose megalomania and illusion of infallibility came back to bite him in the ass. The ensuing public schadenfreude has been biblical, though. He lost endorsement deals and sadly, his own children's charity is suffering. I reckon the kids will be alright, though, since his absurdly bloated salary, which he gets because he knows how to hit a ball with a stick — wow, that's a life-saving talent! — should be sufficient to keep the hope alive. Just don't let him spew any more of this "caring and sharing" rhetoric. We've seen how Tiger shares his woods, and the kids don't need to emulate that.

But since he's offering, I'll take his mea culpa and apply it to something that offended me, deeply and personally: his shirt. I know there's a formula to dressing the part of the apologetic cad, and it involves sober attire mixed with slumped shoulders and a teary, hangdog expression. So I won't go off on the blay colour of his shirt. (That's my attempt to create a new fashion colour by combining blue with gray, like Armani's greige. Yes? No?) But the collar on his shirt looked like it was starched within an inch of its life; it practically stood on its own. Also, the fit was off and well, lemme just say it, it looked cheap. And when the reason behind your televised apology is to publicly repent for putting in another woman's green, cheap is already implied. Don't highlight it with your shirt.       

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