Sunday, February 21, 2010


An alien looking in on the screen shot above would assume the man at the podium had committed the most heinous of acts with the children of the members of the gathered audience before him.

Spinky is an alien from the planet Triptor. In an unfortunate [for him] twist of timing, his arrival on Earth was completely overshadowed Friday by the Tiger Woods' Apologia Concerto [in A-minor, in Three Movements]. Arriving on Earth, Spinky clearly figured he'd be greeted - minimally - with a fighter jet escort from frazzled Earthlings. Instead? Nothing. He couldn't believe it. "WTF?!" he texted back to his commander on planet Triptor.

Spinky happened to land just outside a large mall. Seeing the parking lot was full of cars, he went in to scare the shit out of some humans. He also went in hoping to find out exactly "WTF". The walkways of the mall were empty with the exception of an enormous crowd gathered around a seemingly endless row of high definition televisions, all tuned to the aforementioned Concerto. Spinky decided to idle on up to the crowd and see what was happening. By this point, thoroughly disappointed with the anticlimactic nature of his arrival, he was not shocked that no one in the crowd even batted an eyelash at an alien among their midst. This despite the fact that Triptorians - by the same quirk of genetics that turn caterpillars into butterflies - develop 16-inch penises [peni?] on their foreheads at maturity. Worse, the penises are flaccid, making them nothing more than conversation pieces - minimally - or huge distractions when trying to put on a hat.

"What's going on?" Spinky asked an enormous human - he couldn't figure out the gender. "He's apologizing," said the large human mid-way through an enormous Angus burger it had just purchased at the Burger King across from the television displays. Good Lord, thought Spinky, all of these people are fat! Indeed, the human on the televisions - while looking as if someone had been hitting him with a 2x4 for the past two months - was the only human he saw who weighed less than 200 pounds. That included the two 11-year old twin boys at the sides of the enormous Angus-burger-chewing human, both of whom were finishing off their own second burgers.

"Apologizing for what?" Spinky asked. Now the human looked surprised. "What, are you from outer space or something," the human said. Before he could answer, Spinky finally heard what the human on television was saying. "... I am also aware of the pain my behavior has caused to those of you in this room." Ok, so clearly he's done something to these people. But what?

Now Spinky understood. "So, he killed someone, right?" Spinky said. He'd remembered his Human History course at college and learning about a human named Orenthal who'd been a very famous celebrity and then became even more famous and celebrated after decapitating his ex-wife and a waiter. Not getting a response. Spinky said, "He molested some kids, right?" Spinky remembered from his Human Mythology course that many humans believed in a supreme being and that some humans belonged to a group that - at one time - believed an old Polish former school teacher was this supreme being's representative on Earth. The teacher was so revered that - even though he condoned pedophilia in his ranks - some still wanted to give him his own talk show. Or something like that. Spinky wasn't good on details.

Spniky couldn't get an answer. The longer this human on Earth talked, the worse Spinky figured he'd done. By the time the human was finished, Spinky concluded that this must be the famous Hitler he'd read about. Finally, annoyed at his constant questioning, the large human with the vanishing Angus burger said, "He cheated on his wife, asshole. And, he lied to me and everyone else here."

Spinky figured he must have missed something. Clearly the man must have done something while cheating on his wife, right? Perhaps he blew up a school bus? Slaughtered an entire kennel of dogs? Stolen the Tonight Show from Conan O'Brien? Something. Clearly he couldn't possibly be delivering this mea culpa to an entire world - an entire planet - because he cheated on his wife, could he?

Now. having read that, do you understand how completely fucking ridiculous this crucifixion of Tiger Woods is? As the great philosopher, Allen Iverson, once said about practice: "Cheating!?!? We're talkin' 'bout cheating? Cheating? Cheating?!?!?" Unless I'm missing something, Tiger Woods cheated on his wife multiple times. Like most men, he loves sex and likes doing it with new partners. Like most men who are wealthy, he is able to do this - as opposed to the rest of us who simply have to settle for fantasizing about it. Also, like most men who are wealthy and get caught in the process of liking "strange", he has been deemed a "sex addict" and forced to go to something called a sexual rehabilitation clinic. To quote Spinky, WTF????!?!?!

Watching Woods' apology, I sat there stunned at what I was seeing. O.J. never apologized like this. Charlie Sheen has never apologized like this. Charles Manson hasn't. Nor has Mark Chapman, Sirhan Sirhan, Edi Amin, Pol Pot, Josef Stalin, the aforementioned Hitler, Slobodan Milosevic, Osama bin Laden or Jay Leno [for that violently horrible prime time network television debacle that set the industry back 50 years].

Yet we're making Tiger Woods repent like he killed more than the combined number of people the assholes above? Sponsors are "outraged". Fellow golfers are "mortified". Get over yourselves, people. Tiger shouldn't be forced to apologize to us. His wife? Yeah, he probably owes her that and a huge ring or sports car, too. His children? Yeah, they're going to be none-too-pleased when they get old enough to go on Wikipedia and learn about Daddy's extracurriculars. His immediate family deserves an apology. I assume the others gathered in front of him were extended family members and friends, I suppose. He owes them nothing. The only things he owes his sponsors is to keep hitting that stupid little ball [I hate golf]. Keep hitting that ball and help the sponsors sell their crap. Whether or not Tiger beds every Nordic-like goddess from here to Palm Beach isn't going to effect the sales of their crap. As long as Tiger's hitting that stupid little ball, they'll sell they're stupid little pieces of crap.

After all - isn't that WTF they hired him for in the first place?

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