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After expressing regret for his “transgressions” in a written statement in December but maintaining that “(p)ersonal sins should not require press releases and problems within a family shouldn’t have to mean public confessions,” Tiger Woods is set to eat his words on Friday, when he plans to issue a public apology in front of a small group of friends, colleagues, and reporters in Florida.
Which is nothing short of historic. I mean, have you ever heard of a professional athlete apologizing for being a dog and having sex with women other than his wife? (Somewhere, Michael Jordan is laughing his ass off at a blackjack table.) Isn’t that the sort of behavior we’ve come to expect from athletes like Tiger, the sort of behavior that, in fact, we not-so-secretly relish about them, that they aren’t physically bound by the same laws that we civilians are, both on the playing field and in their pants? (Somewhere, Wilt Chamberlain, layer of 20,000 women, is rolling over in his grave.)
Let’s think about this for a second.
Filed under: Caublinasians, Contrition, Elin Nordegren, Golf, Mixed People, PR Moves, Sexting, Tiger Woods, Tiger Woods Public Apology, Tiger Woods Sex Scandal, Tiger Woods to Apologize, Who Knew Golf Could Get You Laid?
If I read another boo-hoo out of you (“Vogue, I can’t buh-lieve what uncool Angelina said in another magazine!” “EW, I can’t buh-lieve Vogue printed what I said about Angelina! It’s not like everybody’s slobbering in wait for me to breathe the word Ang–” “I’m the victim here!”) I promise that I will send each one of my overbearing, stubborn, outspoken aunts out to your house to hunt you down and give you a good old-fashioned Hardass Asian talking to.
Y’know. Like the kind you get when you’re getting divorced and they explain to you that you’ve suddenly made it everyone’s dishonor problem.
Y’know. Like when they tell you that your career goals of becoming an engineer are stupid and worthless, and that if you loved anybody but yourself, you would just go to medical school like your mother wanted you to.
Y’know. Like when they say that you should exercise more. Because you look fat.
They’re mean as hell. But they’re honest.
Trust me, at the end, you won’t feel pretty, you won’t feel cool, you won’t feel good about the fact that you’re still dating that cooz John Mayer–but you will understand (hopefully) that there’s no pride in airing your relationship dirty laundry through PR channels over the course of five years. That in order to maintain your dignity you’ve can’t cry out loud–just keep it inside, and hold your head up high, and make a goddamn good movie for Chrissake.
Please. Have a little pride.