Saturday, February 20, 2010


“Good afternoon. I’d like to thank my friends, PGA leeches, hopeless suck ups, and the seven journalists who promised to write favorable things about me for coming today. I’d like to take this opportunity to apologize to my fans and sponsors for my behavior, but most of all, I want to apologize to my family. I feel terrible that I got caught. Seriously, from the bottom of my heart I am so, so sorry that I got caught. I mean, I had a really good thing going, and I blew it. Everybody must have known what was going on. I’m the richest, most famous athlete in the world, so you had to know I was going to screw around. Those are the spoils of being rich and famous. Whether they admit it or not, every man in this room would have done the exact same thing if they were in my shoes. I do want to apologize for the caliber of some of the women I’ve been sleeping with. Did you see that reality show reject I hooked up with in L.A.? I don’t know what I was thinking. She looked so good in the Marriott lounge. They must have special lighting in there, or maybe I just had one too many John Dalys. That’s an Arnold Palmer with a ton of Jack Daniel’s added to it for those of you who’ve never had one. I’d also like to apologize to my top mistress Rachel Uchitel for cheating on her with all the other skanks. I betrayed her trust that I would only cheat on my wife with her, and for that I feel deep remorse. Plus, she hired Gloria Allred. That chick is like the Tiger Woods of lawyers! At least I don’t have to pay any blackmail money to hide my affairs. The cat’s kinda out of the bag on that one….
I’ve entered a sex rehab center to deal with my addiction, but that’s just a big joke anyway. You know once I get out I’m going to go right back to the groupie driving range, if you know what I mean. Rehab has helped me grow a lot though. I’m learning all kinds of great tricks from other patients for hiding my affairs. I’ll tell you one thing, cell phones are not your friend! No more texting and voicemails! I regret those the most of all. That was really dumb on my part. Talk about being truly sorry! Always use your buddy’s phone when calling for a hook up. What are entourages for, if not for that? I’m going to start using top class escort services too. They tend to be very discreet for obvious reasons. Thanks to my rehab buddy Elliot S. for that advice. At least something good came out of that stupid place. My PR guys insisted I go there to try and save some endorsements, but we all know I just have to win a tournament or two and it will be business as usual. It’s not like I need the money. My bar tab at the Four Seasons is more than most of you people will make in a lifetime.
My PR team also wanted me to make sure I apologized repeatedly to my wife Elin, and stress that we are trying to work things out, but screw that. She’s nuts, man! That bitch hit me with a golf club. That shit hurt like hell! I’m tellin’ ya, those Swedish nannies are psycho. Stay away! Maybe if she blew me every once and awhile, I wouldn’t be out trolling for cocktail waitresses. Yeah, that’s right, I said it. And another thing: the PGA can blow me too. I’m sick of hearing all these rich old white dudes crying about how much money I’m costing the tour. Oh, boo-hoo, attendance is down. Boo-hoo, ratings are down. That’s right bitches, because I’m the whole show. Numero uno star. The Big Meal Ticket, and don’t you forget it! Do you think I’ve forgotten about that “lynching” comment by a PGA analyst, or the Fuzzy Zoeller “fried chicken” remark? Well I haven’t. I played ball back then and said the right things to brush that shit under the carpet, but as soon as old Tiger gets caught putting his Willie Jefferson Clinton somewhere other than my wife, you’re all over me! Well, things are going to be a little different from now on. I run the show the way I want to! You can all suck it!
Now, I’m going to go win a golf tournament, bang a hooker, and then light a cigar with a thousand dollar bill. And for that I make no apologies!”

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