You think a hole in one is tough, try nine, dude!
By the time dinner hour rolled around last night, it was quite evident from the news reports flooding in, that Tiger Woods was either a super stud or relying on the mystical power of exotic drugs to sustain what was obviously an insatiable quest for sexual conquests.
At last count, nine lusty women jumped on the Tiger (gotcha by the tail) merry-go-round, to snatch up a bit of the spotlight in the unfolding scandal.
On the heels of the revelations about the startling body (of the hot & fleshy variety) allegations also began filtering out of the revolving-door boudoir in respect to drug-induced high-jinks.
For instance, experts speculated that Tiger must have scarfed down what is commonly-known as a date-rape prescription drug, to enlarge upon the width-and-breath of his clandestine prowess.
That theory came home to roost – and ended up a reality check for Tiger – when evidence regarding this allegation was surreptiously gleened on a different front.
With law enforcement evidence in hand - innovative gossip mongers delved further and managed to uncover testimony from eyewitnesses secured from public records (and elsewhere) that underscored that on the night of the accident - Tiger was either bombed by virtue of a lethal combination of alcohol and drugs or under the influence of some kind of mind and/or mood-altering substance in the alternative.
In retrospect, looking back, it is obvious why the golf pro sequestered himself in the inner sanctum of his home (at the advice of criminal lawyers specializing in damage control) and away from the prying eyes of neighbors and the ubiquitous media parked outside his pricey Florida enclave.
Some argue that the issues are private matters, though.
Matt Damon (who admitted being friends with Tiger) took an off-limits approach.
Meanwhile, the hypocritical Invictus star (with an upcoming feature film release begging for promotion on the horizon) got his mug on camera, didn’t he?
Ever the publicist looking out for your own behind, plotting career moves and novel ways to drum up publicity along the way, eh Matt?
Unlike others, I disagree with the smug position of a handful of party-poopers, who assert that the probe should not go any farther based on Tiger's right to privacy.
After all, there is one stickling fact to keep uppermost in the mind, folks!
Tiger’s little indiscretion that fateful night caused physical damage - not only to his neighbor’s property - but to city-owned fixtures (a fire hydrant) paid for by the public coffers.
Subsequently, enquiring minds want to know one niggling thing.
Will there be any more wild incidents arising out of Tiger’s uncontrollable urge to prowl hungrily at the witching hour to satisfy deep sexual cravings - no matter how wobbly his dick - or drug-soaked his mental faculties may be?
If so, at what cost?
If so, at what cost?
The scuttlebutt here in Vegas - Sin City capital of the world - is running rampant.
Even local reporters have been inclined to divulge point blank - that they were aware of Tiger's late-night carousing and carefree nights of high-roller gambling at the Casinos (where management encouraged the prettier gals to hang out and egg the likes of Woods and his cast of desperados on to ensure the cold hard cash kept flowing).
Not a peep leaked out - because as they say - what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.
Until the Florida incident, that is.
Meanwhile, numero uno nosey parker – Oprah Winfrey - stepped into the fray (so what else is new from the hefty bag's corner) and offered up a forum for Tiger and the missus to air the dirty laundry and get to the crux of the problem.
Don't suppose ratings has anything to do with this generous offer?
In view of all the shocking breaking news of late, it is evident at this point in time, that Tiger needs more than someone to hold his co**.
Unlike other dudes, he can’t turn to best his friend to confide in, either.
After all, the childhood friend introduced him to his first mistress.
On the sidelines, the curious are wondering if Tiger will even show at his buddy’s wedding celebrations this week, in spite of the fact he’s supposed to assume the role of best man at the altar.
Even still, best man for best pimp sounds highly appropriate, don't 'ya think?
In addition to a therapist,Tiger is in dire need of a mediator –and high-profile negotiator whiz – to wangle a deal with a bevy of bodacious beauties circling the edges of the high stakes melodrama like a school of blood-thirsty sharks out for a piece of the action.
Although Tiger's approval rating is higher than that of the president,the court of public opinion has spoken.
Zip it, Woods!
Zip it, Woods!
Meanwhile, his missus should snap up the prenuptial moolah and give the a**hole the big kiss off.
Once a wayward prick, always a wayward prick, after all.
Smile if 'ya got some trophy pussy last night!
http://www.julianayrs.com
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