I Hereby Accept Tiger Woods' Apology
Dear Tiger,
I’m just writing this to let you know that I saw your apology on TV the other day. At first, I have to admit, I was pretty befuddled! I knew who you were, of course- I don’t think there are many people who don’t equate “golf” with “that one guy”. That one guy they’re thinking of is you, Tiger. Be proud.
But what I was having a hard time understanding was why you were apologizing to me, Ryan, personally. My knee-jerk reaction was to simply accept it, as I live in the constant belief that every single person on Earth has wronged me, and it is your right- nay, your duty to shower me with apologies just for breathing the same air as me. I couldn’t remember if Tiger Woods had actually done anything specifically to me, though, and so I wasn’t sure why he was apologizing.
I looked up what happened, and once I got over my initial nausea at the horrific sins he’s committed, I thought about it long and hard.
You hurt me, Tiger. You hurt me real bad. I don’t ask for a lot, Tiger, but what I do ask for is to make love to a billion beautiful women, all the time, everywhere. The fact that this has yet to happen to me is a deep source of hurt and shame for me, and the only comfort I can take is that to the best of my knowledge it hasn’t happened to anyone else either. (It’s kind of like puberty.) I am a pathetic, shameful failure of a man, but at least I know that so is everyone else around me.
Except for you, Tiger. It wasn’t enough for you to be a pro golfing legend. It wasn’t enough for you to make more money in the time it’s taking me to type this sentence than I will ever make in my life. It wasn’t enough for you to have a wife so hot that I spent every night praying, praying that you would get cancer just on the off-chance that she and I would meet at a bar after the funeral, hit it off, and settle down somewhere in the Midwest.
No, that wasn’t enough for you, was it. You had to rub it in my face by also getting your freak on with… how many other girls was it, Tiger? I was too busy punching the wall in rage to check, so I can only assume it was a hundred. A HUNDRED OTHER GIRLS, TIGER. And you couldn’t spare a thought for Ryan over at Ohio University, quietly sobbing himself to sleep every night, COLD AND ALONE? The fact that you- some random celebrity who’s apparently good at a game I don’t even like -participated in marital infidelity offends my every moral sensibility and incenses me with fury.
But as badly as you hurt me, Tiger, your apology touched me in ways that none of your hundred mistresses ever could. I’ve given the matter some extensive thought, and I’ve come to a conclusion.
Tiger Woods, I forgive you.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not exactly going to take the “pro-cheating” stance here. Marriage is important, and even in today’s progressive society, cheating on your wife is a pretty dick move! If you can’t commit to not having sex with another woman, how can you commit to the rest of the marriage?
But here’s the thing, Tiger. I’m not your wife. (Yet.) Why are you apologizing to me, some dude in Ohio you have never and will never meet? Cheating on your wife is a terrible thing to do, and it’s only fair to assume that you apologized to her long before you stepped up on that podium. But that’s it. You apologized to your wife; who else do you have to apologize to? You don’t need to go to rehab, you don’t need to apologize to the country, you don’t need to convert to Christianity, JESUS CHRIST WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE MEDIA.
Apologizing to me accomplishes nothing whatsoever. Taking a hiatus accomplishes nothing whatsoever. Checking yourself into “rehab” accomplishes nothing whatsoever. You know what does? Talking to your wife, apologizing, owning up to the things you’ve done to hurt her, acquiescing to her wishes, and not repeating the mistake in the future. That’s it. That is all you are obligated to do. You cheated on your wife, not murdered her, and making an official apology to a bunch of people who have nothing to do with your marriage nor your International Manslut World Tour accomplishes only one thing: wins you back the sympathy of the simpering morons for whom this was an issue in the first place.
The fact is, Tiger, I only expect one thing out of my celebrities, and that is to be good at the thing we made you a celebrity for being good at. In your case, it’s golf. As long as you keep being really good at hitting balls into tiny little holes, you can fuck a rhinoceros for all I care. The very notion that your cheating on your wife affects me, the ordinary American, in any way is only indicative of how utterly whiny and self-absorbed our culture has become. "Some famous guy cheated on his wife? Clearly this is my business, and I demand an apology from him!"
Consider this an act of brand loyalty, Tiger. You’re a celebrity, but you’re an old-school celebrity; a hanger-on from the days when people were famous for actually being good at something, and not just famous for the sake of being famous. Today we have people famous for having babies, having lots of Myspace friends, or even simply concocting an elaborate plan to BECOME famous. AND HAVING IT WORK. You actually possess a talent for which people pay attention to you, and the fact that people are threatening to pay less attention to you for something completely unrelated is only a sign of how increasingly lax the requirements for “celebrity” have become. If Tiger Woods cheats on his wife, why should we pay attention to him? There’s a million other obxnoxious loudmouths clamoring for our attention anyway, right?
Don’t get me wrong here, Tiger. You’ve got a crazy hot wife and you still had to slum around for more sex? You’re a douche of the highest caliber, but being a douche does not IN ANY WAY affect your golf score. Remember that? The reason we liked you in the first place? Cheating or not, you’re still the only golfer in the world whose name people can actually remember, and as long as you can keep that up, consider your apology accepted.
As for the rest of you?
IT’S GOLF.
YOU HIT A BALL INTO A HOLE WITH A STICK.
THE END.
Love,
Ryan
I’m just writing this to let you know that I saw your apology on TV the other day. At first, I have to admit, I was pretty befuddled! I knew who you were, of course- I don’t think there are many people who don’t equate “golf” with “that one guy”. That one guy they’re thinking of is you, Tiger. Be proud.
But what I was having a hard time understanding was why you were apologizing to me, Ryan, personally. My knee-jerk reaction was to simply accept it, as I live in the constant belief that every single person on Earth has wronged me, and it is your right- nay, your duty to shower me with apologies just for breathing the same air as me. I couldn’t remember if Tiger Woods had actually done anything specifically to me, though, and so I wasn’t sure why he was apologizing.
I looked up what happened, and once I got over my initial nausea at the horrific sins he’s committed, I thought about it long and hard.
You hurt me, Tiger. You hurt me real bad. I don’t ask for a lot, Tiger, but what I do ask for is to make love to a billion beautiful women, all the time, everywhere. The fact that this has yet to happen to me is a deep source of hurt and shame for me, and the only comfort I can take is that to the best of my knowledge it hasn’t happened to anyone else either. (It’s kind of like puberty.) I am a pathetic, shameful failure of a man, but at least I know that so is everyone else around me.
Except for you, Tiger. It wasn’t enough for you to be a pro golfing legend. It wasn’t enough for you to make more money in the time it’s taking me to type this sentence than I will ever make in my life. It wasn’t enough for you to have a wife so hot that I spent every night praying, praying that you would get cancer just on the off-chance that she and I would meet at a bar after the funeral, hit it off, and settle down somewhere in the Midwest.
No, that wasn’t enough for you, was it. You had to rub it in my face by also getting your freak on with… how many other girls was it, Tiger? I was too busy punching the wall in rage to check, so I can only assume it was a hundred. A HUNDRED OTHER GIRLS, TIGER. And you couldn’t spare a thought for Ryan over at Ohio University, quietly sobbing himself to sleep every night, COLD AND ALONE? The fact that you- some random celebrity who’s apparently good at a game I don’t even like -participated in marital infidelity offends my every moral sensibility and incenses me with fury.
But as badly as you hurt me, Tiger, your apology touched me in ways that none of your hundred mistresses ever could. I’ve given the matter some extensive thought, and I’ve come to a conclusion.
Tiger Woods, I forgive you.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not exactly going to take the “pro-cheating” stance here. Marriage is important, and even in today’s progressive society, cheating on your wife is a pretty dick move! If you can’t commit to not having sex with another woman, how can you commit to the rest of the marriage?
But here’s the thing, Tiger. I’m not your wife. (Yet.) Why are you apologizing to me, some dude in Ohio you have never and will never meet? Cheating on your wife is a terrible thing to do, and it’s only fair to assume that you apologized to her long before you stepped up on that podium. But that’s it. You apologized to your wife; who else do you have to apologize to? You don’t need to go to rehab, you don’t need to apologize to the country, you don’t need to convert to Christianity, JESUS CHRIST WHAT IS WRONG WITH THE MEDIA.
Apologizing to me accomplishes nothing whatsoever. Taking a hiatus accomplishes nothing whatsoever. Checking yourself into “rehab” accomplishes nothing whatsoever. You know what does? Talking to your wife, apologizing, owning up to the things you’ve done to hurt her, acquiescing to her wishes, and not repeating the mistake in the future. That’s it. That is all you are obligated to do. You cheated on your wife, not murdered her, and making an official apology to a bunch of people who have nothing to do with your marriage nor your International Manslut World Tour accomplishes only one thing: wins you back the sympathy of the simpering morons for whom this was an issue in the first place.
The fact is, Tiger, I only expect one thing out of my celebrities, and that is to be good at the thing we made you a celebrity for being good at. In your case, it’s golf. As long as you keep being really good at hitting balls into tiny little holes, you can fuck a rhinoceros for all I care. The very notion that your cheating on your wife affects me, the ordinary American, in any way is only indicative of how utterly whiny and self-absorbed our culture has become. "Some famous guy cheated on his wife? Clearly this is my business, and I demand an apology from him!"
Consider this an act of brand loyalty, Tiger. You’re a celebrity, but you’re an old-school celebrity; a hanger-on from the days when people were famous for actually being good at something, and not just famous for the sake of being famous. Today we have people famous for having babies, having lots of Myspace friends, or even simply concocting an elaborate plan to BECOME famous. AND HAVING IT WORK. You actually possess a talent for which people pay attention to you, and the fact that people are threatening to pay less attention to you for something completely unrelated is only a sign of how increasingly lax the requirements for “celebrity” have become. If Tiger Woods cheats on his wife, why should we pay attention to him? There’s a million other obxnoxious loudmouths clamoring for our attention anyway, right?
Don’t get me wrong here, Tiger. You’ve got a crazy hot wife and you still had to slum around for more sex? You’re a douche of the highest caliber, but being a douche does not IN ANY WAY affect your golf score. Remember that? The reason we liked you in the first place? Cheating or not, you’re still the only golfer in the world whose name people can actually remember, and as long as you can keep that up, consider your apology accepted.
As for the rest of you?
IT’S GOLF.
YOU HIT A BALL INTO A HOLE WITH A STICK.
THE END.
Love,
Ryan