"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.