SUPER TIGER

He might be better than superman to be frank. I don’t think superman could play golf half as well as Tiger, or sleep with as many women. Mega Tiger, then?



It has recently come to my undivided attention that Mr. Woods has slept with over 120 women (during a five year period). Whether you love or loathe the man, that’s some impressive affair. You’d think the average cheating Joe Soap would be happy with sleeping with one or two women, walk away and be happy with their conquest. Even the serial sex addict would probably delve into the teens and call it a day. But no, not Tiger. He’s super. He does everything with the intention of achieving the best of his supernatural ability. No half mast. So kudos to you dear Tiger, you’ve played out of your socks once again. Literally.

The most impressive part about little Tiger’s charade, is the fact that he was able to conceal his shady behavior for five years. During this period we have got to know Tiger as the gentleman of the game. The peoples champion. A true legend of golf. He was always friendly to the media, and the only ‘pics’ the celebrity-starved paparazzi were able to snap of him, were the wrinkled expressions induced by happiness, after winning tournament after tournament at will, or the agonising look of disappointment when he lost. No one doubted him. He was a family man through and through, had two kids, and lived his life out of the public eye. So what sparked Tiger’s healthy appetite for unavailable women? Beats me. I mean, let’s be real here, he married a Swedish supermodel. That probably would’ve been good enough for superman to settle down, and keep his hands well and truly out the cookie jar. But then again so would being the World’s number one golfer for a million years in a row.

Tiger would still have been plugging away behind his unsuspecting gorgeous wife’s back, had he not gone and crashed his car in a frantic dash to escape his ballistic significant others rage. Idiot. To this day that is definitely Tigers biggest regret. That god dam tree, why’d it have to be there? If Tiger hadn’t crashed, he could’ve settled things with the wife - probably whilst inducing many body and head shots with his prized driver golf club - got divorced, moved on and had a normal life. Right? Think again, he’s Super Tiger remember. Nothing is normal in the wild and wacky world of Tiger Woods.

Amidst all his debauchery I still find myself reveling in his conquests. I feel slightly like a male chauvinistic pig, as I’m not a big fan of Tiger in general; it just astounds me as to how a man of his stature was able to parade around bonking everything in sight. Does he only see walking vaginas? Possibly? He has admitted to being a sex addict. Which are lies of course, he’s a supersex addict. Imagine the dangers of a supersex addict like Tiger roaming the streets? It’s no wonder he’s lapped up everything from his next door neighbour – which was the one girl that cost him his marriage - to the ladies plying their trade in the porn industry.

Apparently Tiger wasn’t certain of the kind of reception he would receive on his return to professional golf last month. He competed in the Masters and apparently didn’t know what to expect from the eagerly anticipating audience. What he didn’t realise though, was how he had immortalized himself over the past five years. By snooping and sneaking, pretty much banging everything in his path and retaining the title of the World’s No.1 Golfer, he became super. Everyone loves superman, right? Well guess what, Tiger's better than him, you do the math.
With that in hindsight, it should’ve come as no surprise when he received a warm, fuzzy-feeling-in-your-stomach kind of applause during the entire Masters.

So, after a stint in sex addiction jail (wonder how that worked out?), a lengthy yet monotonous apology to the world, a looming divorce, and a return to the golfing world, where does this leave Tiger Woods?

Here’s a thought. Mothers lock up your daughters, daughters lock up your mothers. Super Tiger is on the prowl. He’s single, and not losing Wood (s) any time soon.

Adult Lego?

Hell yes, this is exactly the kind of ad I’ve been scouring the depths of the world for. It’s so awesome; it should probably be traded for oil by some wealthy Middle Eastern Sheik, or some such drastic action. It’s every teenager’s naughty little secret. ‘Let’s buy some Adult Lego this weekend and recreate that Emmanuel episode we saw last night.’ I mean, going over to a mate’s house would never be the same again. One small problem though, it’s not real.

That’s right friends; it’s a fake, a hoax, a sham, a meaningless charade. To express my disappointment would be like Usain Bolt having a serious car crash, and instead of coming out the alive with cuts on his feet, emerging a short, slow white guy. Lego have basically ripped my recreated teenage years away from me and buried them deep, deep under ground – bastards.

Okay, let’s pretend Lego did not mind–fuck us into believing that we could create our very own naked lady mantle piece, and that Adult Lego really existed for every mans (and women’s) pleasure and enjoyment. This would be great. Think about it, you could come home after work, put down your coat and briefcase, and grab a snack and a coolie, before high fiving Lego Angelina Jolie on your way to the couch. You could ask her opinion on issues that need resolving, like poverty and world peace. Children wouldn’t be a concern, and you could take her silence on every topic as an instant acknowledgement that you are correct.
Coming home to the ‘wife’ would never be the same again. Really? Not so sure about that. Maybe to a monk, or Tom Cruise.

You see, although receiving a fully stripped woman, lying in bed prepped and ready in the doggy–style position, is something that makes me want to jump on couches, she’s not real. For the ready and able sexual being it poses more of a problem than a solution. This idea belongs in Adult World along with the product. Probably at the back somewhere. Customers should have to sign a written document declaring insanity, or to having no friends. Shame.

On the upside by running this fake campaign Lego have indeed generated some chit – chat. The self – loathing and desperation must have been deep though, because this crass attempt to get adult tongues wagging is nothing short of a loony trip. A campaign gone wrong.

Don’t touch me on my Lego.