Jesse James, OK … first, just who the hell is this guy? And why on earth should I give a damn who or what he has had sex with? And Tiger, he seems like a decent enough guy, albeit with a “Clinton Problem with a side of Texting.” He plays a decent game of golf but why does anyone give a sh*t if he is getting laid or not?
People, you should only care about one person getting laid, and that would be you! Everybody else who is getting laid … none of your damn business!
And you lame-ass pundits out there. You call this news? You call yourself reporters? You are nothing more than peeping Toms with a pencil; you should be disgusted with yourselves for writing such base trash. How do you face your family every night? “What did you do today daddy? … Well son, I spent all day writing a story about where Jesse James’ dick has been, pretty neat huh?”
Then, as soon as we finish with one genital-ly supercharged politician, we go to the next sports celeb or movie star and mull over where he and his weed whacker slept last night. Unless he was with your wife, trimming your bushes, I really don’t think it’s any of your business.
Of course there is the currently de rigueur Public Mea Culpa, the obligatory news conferences of “contrition and shame” followed by days and days of reports whether they were contrite or humiliated enough. “I don’t know Bob, were those real tears, I just wasn’t feeling it?”
Today we have now topped the news conference of shame, Tiger and Nike have released a “I’ve been Bad Dad Ad” showing a unhappy Tiger with of all humiliating things a voice over of his departed Dad admonishing him, “Did you learn something?” … I’m sorry but subliminally I’m thinking “Just Do it”.
We need to be told in great detail of the sex therapy clinics they attend to cure themselves of their “Sex Ad-Dick-tion problems. Let me tell you something, all males are sex addicts and there ain’t no cure. Just some of us try to show a little decorum about the whole matter. But if you lock me in a tony sex treatment facility for three months, I guarantee you at some point I will try and hit on housekeeping. Just sayin.’
Why do we subject ourselves to this endless barrage of crap? Is there nothing deemed worthy of staying private and personal anymore? I, for one know when I’ve perpetrated a massive moral failing and get caught with 12 hookers, a gay midget and a spider monkey dressed in leather chaps during a weekend junket in Las Vegas, I really, really would like to keep it just between my wife and myself. Yes, I may have to sleep on the couch for 7 or 8 years, but that’s our business, not yours, and call me old fashioned but I think even the scum politicians of the world and the useless overpaid movie stars actually deserve this small courtesy too. Being rich or massively stupid shouldn’t eliminate your right to a little privacy.
Even NPR today reported that Billy Payne issued some sort of idiotic statement claiming that Tiger had not only let me down, but my unborn grandbabies as well. Dude, I got tell you Tiger has never let me down, I don’t know Tiger and never will, and my grandkids won’t give a damn about some old golfer who is relegated to giving color commentary and photo ops at the 2038 Buick Open. Billy, who is in charge of a club with its own host of moral failings, referred to Tiger as “our hero who let us down.” A hero, really? Has he dodged bullets to save anyone? Has he risked his life knowingly on the greens to save another man’s life? Or dragged a child to safety from the water hazard? So now golfers are heroes??? Is there anyone who ain’t a “hero” these days?
The Pope covering up pedophilia in the church is news, some Hollywood dumbass jumping a tattooed hottie isn’t. If you insist on being a voyeur, go to an opera.
Here is the plot to every opera ever written:
Act 1 – Some dude crawls in bed with some chick he ain’t s’posed to be in bed with
Act 2 – Another dude who is not s’posed to find out about it, finds out about it
Act 3 – sword fight …
Act 4 – someone dies.
It was the upper classes way of leering into the sordid side of life without involving the neighbors. All very polite and quite civilized. Everyone knew everyone else’s business but had the decency to shut up about it. Today, not so much.
Every ten minutes I get another RSS newsfeed about Jesse James and his poor wife’s sex life, displayed a billion times in the nation’s picture window. Unless my president or my neighbor is screwing a commie spy who is planning to sell invasion plans to the Kremlin (or Al the Kyda) I really don’t need to hear about it, and I know for damn sure it ain’t news. People have been breaking the rules of sexual decorum for as long as there have been genitals; it’s time to stop pretending it news.