Tiger Woods: Can’t A Man Cheat In Peace?

Can’t a man cheat in peace anymore?

There’s some breaking news in the Tiger Woods “scandal,” as it appears one of his side action chicklets has saved some incriminating voice mails, and is now releasing them to the public. As far as I’m concerned, I couldn’t care less. Of course, I couldn’t care less about most anything that passes for news nowadays. Still, I find this whole Woods deal particularly un-news worthy.

It seems Tiger’s wife got a tad hot under the collar over his shenanigans and went a bit medieval on his ass, attacking his Buick with a nine iron. Such behaviour! But what did she expect anyway? It’s always amazing to me when the spouses of incredibly successful people act so surprised when infidelities are revealed. For crying eye, he’s Tiger Woods, the most successful golfer of all time! Plus, he’s a jock, and a colossal frat douche. I mean, that combination does not add up to the faithful type. I will say this though, if I was as rich and powerful as golfer-boy, the down-low action I’d be banging would be much higher quality. Seriously, Jaimmee Grubbs some 24 year old – 48 year old looking cocktail waitress, and a duck faced douche called Rachel Uchimama, or Uchihuahua… whatever!

24 or 48?

Coochimama doin’ da’ DUCKFACE!

I hope Mr. Buick sprayed his shlong with Lysol after every dive into those swamp waters, ’cause those broads are walking petri dishes.

It seems a lot of celebrities enjoy the skank. They revel in the musk of dirty muff, like a cat shnuffling up a pair of funky sneakers. I would think with all the money they have, they could find the Madonna and the whore in one package somewhere.

Why are all celebrities such Freudian clichés?

As for the wife, I can’t muster up much sympathy. She married him after all, and something tells me it wasn’t for his sparkling personality, or astounding good looks. Besides, she’s Swedish, blond, and soon enough she’ll be the recipient of half a billion in the divorce settlement. Sorry for her? Hardly.

Bottom line though, this isn’t news – this is bullshit. Why am I writing about it then? Because I’m being forced to by an evil demon. You see, the editor of the Faster Times has me locked in his basement and will only feed me when I write one of these totally meaningless celebrity schlock pieces. When I’m done, he throws down the rotting carcasses of a couple of dead rats and an old rusty tin can filled with Red Bull. So, I really hope you get a kick out of this shit, because I’M the one paying the price.

Shhhh… I think I hear him coming now….he beats me.

(Editor’s note: Branwyn’s Fame Editor, Dipayan Gupta, is playing “good cop” this month and is grateful to have escaped Lancourt’s rapier wit. But come Jan, all bets are off!)