An Explanation for the Intercourse
by TIGER WOODS
Hey you guys. I'm Tiger, like a mountain cat, rrrrrawl. Just kidding, although my name is one of the major things about me and always comes in handy as a talking point with the ladies. There's nothing like showing a woman a picture of yourself as a kitten. Do you know what I am saying?
You're probably wondering why I went to such lengths when I had some icy Nordic slopes to ski at home, although with a vagload of prescription medication. Great question, and I owe you an explanation, if for no other reason than that I wish to educate you in roughly the same fashion as I was educated at Stanford University. I can boil down the reason for my behavior in two words: Deleuze and Guattari. You see, my two years at Stanford were not entirely without c-c-changes.
I was taking a class I had been guaranteed was an easy credit. A small birdlike woman walked in the class, wrote the word tree on the board, drew a tree next to it, and explained that Saussure was famous for distinguishing the two. I was flabbergasted - earlier that morning I had prepared endlessly for a college match to achieve my notoriety, and this guy just made an extremely vague observation and was set for life.
Levi-Strauss was a little depressing, his feminist critics were even more tiresome. They made us watch Independence Day and explain what it said about Jews. I recall writing, "that some of them are tall."
Foucault was just another sadomasochistic genius for me to admire; we argued endlessly over whether or not The Matrix was "gay." Ever since my entire career has just been a human experiment to find out how much ass I can bang without violating the strictures of our reality as we know it. I also did some brief voice work on Richard Linklater's Waking Life.
I ordered a lot of barbecue chicken pizzas during this period, and I also had sexual intercourse with almost everyone. When my spirits flagged, I found the simple joy of laughing in Judith Butler's face. (I once castrated a donkey in her office as I made Fredric Jameson watch. He later gave a lecture about the incident titled 'The Postmodern Testes and Its Discontents.') I also did our babysitter. Oopsies on that one.
Whether it was anal or double anal or double penetranal, or sundaes, I was the one giving all the orders. Over there! See my colon? Scramble those eggs! Yahtzee! This breakfast is delicious! Which Harry Potter was that? I already ate dessert! Jason Heyward was my sleeper! And so on.
My dad was a legendary horndog, as you probably already know. He used to keep a list of his hot bangs in his office desk next to a picture of me holding a chihuahua over my head like it was the Ryder Cup. Some days you just feel like Sarah Palin looks.
In conclusion, it was totally fine for Magic Johnson to cheat on his wife and contract the HIV virus, but it's not cool for me to be the change I want to see in the world? That feels like a deeper violation than I'm used to, at least in one area. If you're not licking your fingers after sex, did the sex ever occur or was it more like dry humping on Cinemax? Just saying.
If my wife can't accept my apology, so what? I'll still be rich and famous. And if she gets hard to deal with, I'll just Freaky Friday her and her equally fetching twin. I hate it when my daily life recycles plot points from particularly cogent episodes of Babylon 5.
Where angels dare to tread demons can follow behind closely, marking every step. We can act like the next shot is meaningful, and that we're touched by what's occurred. The faces of friends and family can falsely illuminate the veneer of normalcy, radiating calm support. On the inside the evasion runs much deeper, throwing caution to the wind. Now I am free of the man I was expected to become, and I greet the new world suspiciously, like a ghoul.
Tiger Woods is a contributor to This Recording. This is his first appearance in these pages. He is a writer living in Orlando.
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