"I AIN'T APOLOGIZIN' FOR SHIT" : TIGER WOODS' ALTERNATE REMARKS

A REASON, COMMERCE, JUSTICE AND FREE BEER EXCLUSIVE REPORT

Last Friday, disgraced PGA Golf Champion Tiger Woods made big news when he made his first public appearance since allegations arose last fall that he perennially cheated on his wife. In a prepared statement, he publicly acknowledged that he "cheated," "acted irresponsibly" and "was unfaithful" by engaging in serial extramarital relations with over ten women while married to his wife, Elin Nordegren. He showered apologies on everyone from his "business partners" to his wife, children, mother, friends, their friends, fellow golfers, the game of golf and even Buddhism.

Despite Mr. Woods' technical contrition, however, many viewers felt that he did not put his heart into the performance. Many commentators claimed that he was "wooden" and "robotic" while reading his statement. They claimed that he must have been coached to deliver his remarks in order to smooth over any future employment problems, as well as to maintain favorable commercial relationships with endorsers. In fact, many commentators said that they did not believe anything Mr. Woods said. Rather, they contended that he just was "saying what he had to say" in order to remain professionally viable.

Reason, Commerce, Justice and Free Beer worked all weekend to determine Mr. Woods' true sentiments. Thanks to our tireless efforts--as well as to some fortunate conversations with lawyers and publicists close to Mr. Woods--our agents discovered that Mr. Woods prepared his own statement weeks before his presentation last week. Through some luck and journalistic ingenuity, our agents actually found a copy of Mr. Woods' original remarks. Our agents learned that Mr. Woods' lawyers and publicists urged him never to deliver these remarks. According to our sources, Mr. Woods' took their advice and asked a team of trusted lawyers and publicists to draft his statement. Ultimately, Mr. Woods delivered that version last week.

But here at Reason, Commerce, Justice and Free Beer, we believe that men have a right to speak their minds. We also believe that honesty is central to American discourse, especially discourse involving public figures like Mr. Woods. No matter what our opponents say, we think that America deserves to hear what Mr. Woods actually thinks about the scandal that has transfixed the Nation for almost three months. While we sympathize with Mr. Woods' contention that his behavior is essentially "private," the news story is not. For better or worse, Mr. Woods' serial philandering has entered the lexicon of American civilization: We all know about it. And we want to know more.

For those reasons, today we are pleased to present Tiger Woods' Alternate Remarks:

February 19, 2010

Good morning, motherfuckers,

You know something? I got just about one thing to say to everybody seated here today and all a y'all sitting at home watching me on TV: "Fuck all a y'all. I ain't apologizin' for shit."

Do you motherfuckers know what you've done to my life? Look at my hair! Holy shit, man, I'm going bald over this. Do you know how much you've embarrassed me in front of my wife? Don't you have any respect for a man who's just trying to get an honest nut up in here? Shit, it's not like I'm the only player out there trying to get a little bit on the side. In fact, if a white man cheated on his wife, y'all probably wouldn't even say anything about it. But as soon as a successful black man stands up and wants to get a little extra pootie, you step up and try to lynch me.

Y'all are giving me a hard time because I'm black.

Well, fuck y'all. I'm pissed.

I didn't do anything wrong. I was just doing what any man would do in my situation. In fact, y'all wish you could be like me. Y'all wish you could have my money, cash and hoes. Yeah, I'm a smooth-talking, smooth-walking, good-looking, money-having player. I get millions for driving golf balls down the fairway. I get my picture taken with a Tag Heuer watch on. Then I go out to the VIP champagne room and sink a few mo-fuckin' putts with some smokin' hot honies. I ride around in Bentleys and I live in a palace. My wife is a Norwegian model, BI-ATCH! What the fuck you thought?

And you say you don't like me. You say: "He unfaithful." Sheee-yit, I know every last one of you men out there wants to be doing exactly what I've been doing. And don't you deny it, you hypocritical motherfuckers.

Let me just say one thing to you right here: "A player got to play. Don't hate the player; hate the game." Stop hating me because I play better than you. If you don't like the game, don't play. But don't hate me just because I'm the big bad mack daddio who gets all the hoes.

No, no, no. You got it all backwards. All a y'all jealous motherfuckers are wrong, not me. I mean, leave my wife and kids out of this. This ain't none of your business. This is between me and my family. Stick your cameras somewhere else. So what I banged some big-booty hoes in the club. So what I brought a couple freaks to the house while my wife was away. So what if we busted out the ice cubes, whips and whipped cream. What the fuck does that have to do with y'all? That's my motherfuckin' business! Stay out of it! Leave a brother alone!

And so what I if was unfaithful? You try being faithful when you're a young, good-looking black man and ten scorching hot women start wagging their titties in your face. You just try it. You sit up there talking about "responsibility," "honor" "integrity" and "decency." That shit don't matter much when fifteen or twenty hoes be circling round the long dong. Shit yeah, biatch, my shit is strong. Say whatever y'all want about it. You wouldn't be acting all high and mighty if hot-ass porn stars treated you the way they treat me. See what I'm saying? Y'all are just jealous.

And that's another thing I want to bring up: Why y'all trying to pin all the blame on me for being unfaithful? You think I was the only one doing wrong here? What about the hoes who got butt-booty nekid when I was just trying to mind my business? I didn't ask 'em to sit on my face: They just did it. Was I supposed to say: "I'm sorry, my dear, but my marriage relation compels me to ask you to remove your vagina from my lips"? What about my cold-hearted wife who treated me like shit at home? Sometimes she don't wanna fuck for months on end, then she asks me to do motherfucking chores around the house. Fuck that.

I'm just a man. You put me in some tight situations and I'm gonna do some freaky things. That's just how we roll. So basically what I'm saying is this: I'm not the only one to blame here. I'm just a man.

So back the fuck off and leave me alone. I don't need no help. I don't need no "sex addiction therapy." Player, what? Sex addiction? Sex ain't no addiction; that shit be natural. Just because I bagged some nice-looking ass don't mean I got a "problem." Shit, most brothers would say I did good. What the fuck is with all a y'all? As soon as you get good at fucking that means you gotta check into the hospital for "sex addiction? " Say what?

This is what I've been saying all along: Y'all just can't cut a successful brother a break. Y'all wish you could be doing what I've been doing, but because you can't, you say: "Tiger gotta get help."

I'm going to say this one time and one time only: "I don't need no motherfucking help." I'm fine. I'm doin' exactly what a man is supposed to do when he's rich, famous and good-looking. I'm supposed to get a reward for all my success, right? I'm supposed to enjoy my life, aren't I? Apparently not, you fuckers. Nope, y'all want me to sit at home, take Elin's shit and watch TV on Saturday night. Well let me tell you something: That's not what players do. And I'm a player. I'ma play.

Not only that, how is "therapy" supposed to stop me from fucking? What are we supposed to talk about up in there? Talk about finger-painting? Crayons? What I brought for lunch? What am I, nine fucking years old? Therapy, what? Pleeeeze. Y'all just can't stand the idea that a black man be getting everything in life you wish you had, so you say he's "sick" and throw him in the hospital.

I got something to say to my business partners. I know y'all are important, so I'm gonna say something to you right about now. Don't cut me loose. I got nothing but love for ya, baby. And people who buy shit I endorse are still gonna buy it. Hey, people love a player. People love a mack. Don't you know that? Look at P. Diddy: He sells every last thing he touches. Let's face it: Quiet guys who wear golf sweaters aren't usually very exciting. But when they see me wearing a golf sweater, they'll say: "Oh, shit, is that Tiger in that three-button cardigan? I got to get me one of them. Then I'll get me all the hoes!"

Think about it. I'm marketing gold. Most people think golf is fuckin boring as hell. But with me, I spice it up and turn it into a crunk party.

So that's about it. I ain't sorry for anything I've done. I didn't do anything wrong. I'm still the best motherfucking golfer alive; believe that. Y'all can try to lynch me all you want. Ain't gonna stop this player. I'm gonna keep sinking putts on and off the course. Watch me.

And in the meantime, stay the fuck away from me and my wife. This ain't none a y'all god damn business.

Thank you. And kiss my black Thai ass, you racist player-hating bastards.

I'M HAVING A HARD WEEK : PLEASE BEAR WITH ME

It's unusual for me to go several days without writing a post. Since September last year, I have weathered many changes. I even moved from Chicago to New York. But I always managed to keep my mornings free to craft out the myriad ideas I had assembled for so long before I started writing this blog. This week, however, some real household problems sprang up that have denied me the chance to concentrate and write in the morning. Worse, they have made it hard for me to sleep, and I can't write anything when I'm exhausted.

I've never really written an "explanatory" post like this. But today I think it's appropriate because I really don't know when these hard times will end. My life partner is going through hell with medications; his troubles spill directly into my life. For the moment, I do not have any untroubled hours to spend writing. I have faith that things will improve soon, but I can't say how fast all this will pass. In the meantime, I must attend to some genuine stresses.

It is actually surprising that I have written for so long without a substantial interruption. But life rarely cooperates for long. I can't foresee how life will turn. I can't really even explain why things happen. I just need to step up and deal with them when life deals me funny cards.

Please feel free to browse me archives. And I promise to start posting again as soon as my circumstances permit.

I am so tired. I haven't slept a real night's sleep in about two weeks now. Please forgive me for suspending my writing until I get things under control here.

Oesterhoudt

EXPLANATIONS

AN ESSAY

Explanations reflect power relationships. Every day, people are called upon to explain their actions to others, usually under an assumption that the person has done wrong. Explanations involve two parties: (1) The party demanding an explanation; and (2) the party offering the explanation. Generally, the party demanding the explanation occupies a superior position over the party offering the explanation. For example, parents demand explanations from their children, teachers demand explanations from their students, officers demand explanations from their soldiers, employers demand explanations from their employees, judges demands explanations from lawyers and prosecutors demand explanations from accused criminals. In every case, the party offering the explanation stands under the scrutiny and authority of the party demanding the explanation. The superior party demands the explanation in order to better understand what the inferior party did at some past time. But the superior party usually also has a preconception about the inferior party’s behavior beforehand and frames his questions in a way to corroborate that preconceived version of events. In many cases, the inferior party’s explanation merely provides more details to flesh out an already poor impression in the superior party’s mind about the event. And explanations reflect a perceived right among superior parties to know about what their subordinates do. Conversely, inferior parties have no right to know how their superiors behave in certain situations. Thus, the dynamic behind explanations betrays classic inequality: A strong person exercises a right over the weak person that the weak person does not possess. Worse, exercising that right forces the weak person to expose himself to even more derision that he did before giving the explanation.

Still, explanations do not always arise to serve a cruel purpose. At times, people offer explanations to one another in honest attempts to provide information about their behavior. This occurs between relative equals (friends and lovers come to mind), not in inferior-superior relationships. For example, when a person genuinely cares about how another person thinks about him or her, he will go to great lengths to explain his actual intent when a questionable event threatens to undermine his reputation. If the person does not care about how the other thinks about him or her—and the other occupies no power advantage over him—he would never offer an explanation for a questionable act. After all, no matter the context, offering an explanation involves a quantum of humility and surrender. If there is nothing to be gained from suffering the discomfort inherent in any explanation, why bother? No one willingly assumes discomfort.

In either case, explanations reflect disparities in power. Whenever anyone offers an explanation, he acknowledges himself to be inferior to the person demanding it. Whether or not the party demanding the explanation has a technical right to it—or even can compel it—the party offering it has done something that calls him into question. By explaining himself, he impliedly yields to the other’s judgment and attempts to mitigate it. Few things imply disparities in power more than judgment. And explanations are little more than confessions designed to deflect the pain that flows from others’ judgments.