Dammit, Tiger Woods. Forget about your wife for a second (I’m guessing that won’t be hard) —
How could you do this to us, your fans? Just last week, every person in America was a fan of Tiger Woods. You were an American icon. You broke barriers in the stuffy white world of professional golf. You had the perfect life, with your beautiful family and bazillion dollars. Compared to other “role models” like Kobe the infidel or Michael the dog slayer, we thought you were the model athlete. We wore Nike sweater vests and bought Buicks because of you. We never expected that you would commit “transgressions” that are typically made by our country’s fine politicians, Hollywood celebrities, and prominent businessmen. You were better than that. We trusted you. And you Madoff’ed us.
Three mistresses? Seriously? We never thought that you were such a fiend behind that surly glare. Even Kobe could only claim to have one (public) mistress. You had three, plus a wife. Apparently you really can drive it long consistently. Seems like you live up to your name, Tiger.
But honestly, if you were going to cheat, couldn’t you have picked some classier ladies to cheat with? You’d think that Tiger Woods would prefer discreet politicians’ wives to waitresses and Vegas club promoters. Then again, I guess that was Old Tiger, with his quiet, “boring” life. New Tiger? Well, he’ll look chlamydia in the eye and buy it dinner.
In this world of New Tiger, I just don’t know who to trust anymore. Does the Pope sit around the Vatican and stuff dollar bills into the bustieres of skanky nuns? Does Barack Obama do lines of coke off Sasha and Malia’s dollhouse toilet? Does Big Bird try and lure kids back to his nest for private ABC lessons?
What’s good and what’s evil?
I really don’t know. Because on the same day that Tiger Woods announces that he’s a sleazy d-bag, Michael Vick lectures to kids about the cruelty of dog fighting.
And… I love Sarah Palin.
Tiger Woods One Liners (forwarded from a co-worker)
What’s the difference between a car and a golf ball? Tiger can drive a ball 400 yards.
What was Elin doing out at 2:30 in the morning? Clubbing.
Why did Tiger crash into a tree AND a fire hydrant? He couldn’t decide between a wood and an iron.
Tiger drives very well on the fairway but doesn’t fare very well on the driveway. Rock me.
If the only person that can beat Tiger is a blonde with big breasts, it’s time for Phil Mickelson to bleach his hair.
What is the penalty for getting it in the wrong hole? Ask Tiger, he knows.
Nike wants to drop their endorsement due to accuracy problems. Apparently, Tiger’s spraying his balls everywhere.
What will the headline be if they prove it is domestic violence? TIGER’S WIFE MAKES THE CUT.
Given Tiger’s racial heritage, can we call this a Black Thai affair?
Tiger just changed his nickname but still kept it in the cat family: Cheetah.
Elin Woods has a twin sister named Josephine. Know how to tell them apart? Elin is the one holding the bent 5 iron.
Tiger Woods’ shirt is all red — Problem is, there’s no tournament, and his veins are a pint low.
What does Tiger have in common with a baby seal? They’ve both been clubbed by a Norwegian.
//
Hey, Tiger, I was just wondering if you and your wife ever go out on dates? I mean, I never see you out in People magazine, and I know the paparazzi are everywhere!
— Katie from Newark, N.J.
Katie, I think Elin and I have avoided a lot of media attention because we’re kind of boring.


In the aftermath,
Most Harvard people, though, do come out pretty well-adjusted after college. Unlike popular perception, we don’t always wear our elitist blazers with cashmere sweaters tied around our necks. We don’t drink alcohol out of lab beakers and carry TI-83s to calculate our BACs (we do that in our heads). We still get shwastey-faced and make bad decisions at shady bars with unattractive strangers.

The PTC, of course, assumes that TV can compel teens to have grossly irresponsible, drunken threesomes with former Disney stars. (This is the same group that blames violence on cop shows, and homosexuality on the purple Teletubby). But, if TV can force savvy teenagers into triple sex with Triple Sec, then just imagine what it can do to soft-brained children! The entire fate of our kids’ future could be determined by remote control roulette: if the channel lands on 

I thought I would need a few weeks to determine whether I’d find my calling in finance. But after just a few days, I already hated it. I hated the dress code, the formality, the hierarchy, and the Big Brother-ness of it all. I hated the work, which teetered between mundane and soul-sucking. Most days, I just felt like a highly-paid supermarket cashier, plugging in numbers and being rude. I quickly learned that there were three tenets of business: 1) Jerkiness is a coveted personality trait… 2) “Fuck” can be used as a noun, verb, adjective, adverb, insult, directive, and occasionally, term of endearment… 3) Lastly, in order to fit in, you have to be strongly opinionated about HR, women leaders, and taxes. (The opinion must also be negative, although you can “support them in concept.”)
Nearing the end of my two-month stint, I had to meet with HR (ugh) to discuss full-time opportunities. The bank was well-known for only hiring first-years from its summer intern class. Even though I knew, deep down, that I didn’t want to do this for two full years, I still wanted to get an offer. I still wanted to have a job lined up, even though I swore I wouldn’t take it. I wouldn’t. Even though it was a prestigious firm. I wouldn’t. Even though I’d built up a strong network. I wouldn’t. Even though I’d get to live comfortably in New York City. I wouldn’t. Or would I?
My co-worker shrugs. “Maybe they won’t let people outside because they’re afraid they’ll jump.” The building is owned by a financial company, of course.
The friends’ mailing list is sacred: within its archives, you will find serious discussions, biting arguments, soliloquies, confessions, rambles, insults, and of course, gossip. On my mailing list, some recent topics of conversation included: Halloween costumes, celebrity baby names, spelling, becoming fat because your friends are fat, thoughts on academic freedom/torture, and Miley Cyrus. Naturally.