To quote that little-known lyrical genius, singer/songwriter John Prine, "Actually, all them dogs is about the same."
And, while I'm on the subject, I'll quote one more unrivaled lyricist, Neal Young, who once sang, "When the losers in the best bars meet the winners in the dives."
Yessir. We all know by now that Eldrick Tiger Woods - that global idol heretofore as pure as the driven snow and unsullied as Snow White - is about the same as all them other dogs. And, as an obvious loser in the best bars, Tiger is no better than the winner in the dives. Alas, they are one in the same. We all know that now.
Tiger Woods. Billionaire Tiger Woods. Spokesperson for the finest of products. Along with Muhammad Ali, the most popular professional athlete of all time. Idolized by millions of all races and creeds. The best thing to ever happen to the game of golf since Mulligans and the 19th hole.
Molded by his doting, dedicated father and loving, nurturing mother, throughout his life Tiger Woods has been compared to Ghandi, Nelson Mandela, and the second coming of the Baby Jesus. Had he remained in his spotless, Shangri-La world, there were untold riches, forever record-breaking golf achievements, and a predicted political career clear to the White House, if only he sought it.
As any great athlete, Tiger Woods has the eyesight of a bird of prey. He can see the lines of the fairways and read those putts like no other.
And, worst of all for him, those wandering eyes also can pick out the most gorgeous babes in the galleries, clubs, casinos, and hotel and airport lounges.
Today, Woods is under immense media fire for allegedly having at least three stunning mistresses - one on the East Coast, one on the West Coast, and one in Las Vegas. Don't rule out State Center, Iowa. Tiger Woods is a perfectionist, and geographic perfection demands a middle-of-the-country mistress, for no other reason than to bring closure to this paragraph.
Just like Louisville men's basketball coach Rick Pitino, who was caught in his own marriage-wrecking tryst a few months ago, Tiger apologized for his "transgressions," rather than identify them and tell it like it really is - "Actually, all them dogs is about the same."
There are three reasons a married man cheats. One is because of a controlling, my way- or- the- highway woman who uses intimacy as a bargaining tool, with inhibitions and demands that would bring U.S. Army Special Forces to its knees. The second is booze and opportunity clouding the judgment of a weaker mind. And the third is - "Actually all them dogs is about the same."
Tiger Woods is a dog. He's a helluva golfer, but he's a dog, and I don't mean any disrespect to man's best friend.
Tiger Woods cheated because he could. He's Tiger freakin' Woods after all, the sense of entitlement permeating his very being like a bath in Brut Cologne. Money? No problem. He's been told he's this special Messiah since he was old enough to leer at Barbie Dolls and Younkers' bra ads.
Pity the fools expecting Camelot and all sweetness and light between Tiger and his broken-hearted wife, Elin. Global icons are invincible, after all. They can do what they wish because they're above reproach. Hands off. Who are you to question me?
And if they ever get caught, they think they have the ways and means to disarm the detractors, and use their fiefdom of cards to make it all go away.
But, gender be damned, they forget the most base and basic rule of the land regarding the human race - Actually, all them dogs is about the same.