Monday, December 14, 2009
I have only one question for you, Mr. Woods
Lo. Something funny and relevant for you! I found this on Jennifer Lancaster's blog yesterday. The topic has been beaten to death (no pun intended), but for some reason it still fascinates most of us. (If it doesn't fascinate you, get back to your "real" news and skip this post.)
What one woman would do with the $300 million that Tiger will part with...
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There’s been so much speculation in the last few weeks about Tiger Woods: “What really happened the night of his accident?” “Did the pressure of being in the spotlight cause him to crack?” “Will his personal peccadilloes affect his ability to hit the long ball?”
Sportscasters and pundits alike ponder the moral and ethical ramifications of Tiger stepping outside the bounds of his marriage. Tabloids explore the seamier side of the issue, gleefully speculating on whens, wheres, and which cocktail waitresses. Fans want to understand what made him stray, while sponsors scramble to determine if he can still sell sneakers and sports drinks.
Me? I only have one question for you, Mr. Woods: Were you really that anxious to part with $300 million dollars?
Now I’m not telling you how to run your business or your life, Tiger. But when a man signs and then violates a $300 million dollar prenuptial agreement, I have to wonder. Were you tired of seeing so many zeroes on your bank statements? Or do you hate financial institutions and you simply ran out of mattresses to stuff? Was it hard to keep your pants up when your pockets were so filled with gold?
The only logical explanation is that your money’s a burden and you’re desperate to unload it. But if so, perhaps you could have considered these fine alternatives?
According to Sen. Mary Landrieu, $300 million large is exactly what it’ll take to remedy the shortfalls in Louisiana’s budget. If you weren’t on the hook for the prenup, you could totally write the Great State a check. You’d thrill not only the residents, but taxpayers all over the country! I bet we’d all run out and buy Buicks, Nikes, and Gatorade with the money you saved us. Plus, the folks in NOLA would treat you like a conquering hero at Mardi Gras, bestowing all the beads you could carry. You’d be so beloved, every girl on Bourbon Street would flash you. Since that sounds like the kind of thing you’d be into, everyone wins!
For $300 million bucks, you could have funded HUD’s Recovery Act, which is aimed at both re-housing homeless families and preventing them from facing the kind of crises that lead to homelessness. Home-wrecker? Pfft, more like a home-saver!
Maybe you could bail out the Philip Morris Corporation and pay emphysema-stricken Cindy Naugle her $300 million dollar judgment? Granted, most aren’t particularly sympathetic to the plight of Big Tobacco…and yet we’re not so keen on philandering fathers, either. (This one might be a wash for all involved.)
Don’t want to drop all that cash in one place? No problem! If I were you, I’d have invested $100 million in Twitter’s latest round of financing with the stipulation that no pajama-clad blogger tweet anything about me but my winning smile and Masters jacket collection.
A while back the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation gave $100 million dollars to help eradicate polio. Now Tiger, are you going to let some browser-crashing-nerd steal all your glory? Or are you going to fork over so many bills those future generations of blindfolded swimmers will think that “polio” is what comes after “Marco”?
The cliché-loving part of me would take the last $100 million to buy the world a Coke. However, according to recent estimates, it would cost around $6.5 billion to purchase one twenty-ounce bottle for every single person in the world. I suppose folks could share, but that would entail multiple people placing their lips on the same thing, which is exactly how you got yourself in trouble in the first place. Maybe we should scratch that suggestion.
So, I guess I’d take that $100 million dollars and buy Elin something pretty… like an island. I suspect she deserves one.
- Jennifer Lancaster